Snowed In

 

 “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Outside the bus window is a white out, the entire world erased by snow. We got into town three days ago to play the Rangers and barely made it to NJ yesterday morning. After tonight’s game against the Devils we were scheduled to fly right home. But we haven’t even tried to go into the private airport and if we wait much longer, we’ll have to shovel out the bus.

“Sorry guys, everything’s closed. JFK, Newark, everything. Back to the hotel.”

What’s another night in a hotel, really? No bother to those of us who don’t have anyone waiting at home.


____

I have been on a plane all day. First a delay in Minneapolis, then Philly. All I want to do it get into a hotel room and lay flat for a week. I’m supposed to be visiting a friend for New Years but at the rate I’m going, I’ll be lucky to get anywhere by Easter.

If my flights had been on time, I’d have made the Devils game tonight vs. Chicago. When I realized I’d miss it, I called a hotel from wherever I was stranded and booked a room. They swore their shuttles would run in the snow so no one would have to pick me up at the terminal. One night in a hotel is better than someone risking their life to fetch me from the airport.

The hotel lobby is a mess. I say a silent prayer that they’ve held my reservation. When I see a bus roll in as I am one person back in line, I know there’s a good chance I’ll get bumped if I don’t get checked in soon. If that happens I won’t be the only one going without tonight.

“Yes, Miss Abbington, we have your room.” Best words I ever heard.
____

The hotel lobby is crowded and I know we’re not the only stranded travelers tonight. But we are the Chicago Blackhawks, big time VIP group at all the Hilton hotels in our road trip cities. Some of these people probably won’t get rooms because we will. One of our staff is calling names and handing out keys, another still talking to a front desk clerk. All but three names get called – Sharpie, Kaner and I just stand there, waiting.

“Tazer!” he finally says, waving me up to registration. “Guys, come here.”

The problem is they are one room short. We weren’t booked in for tonight, but lots of people cancelled because the airport closure kept them away. The numbers almost match up, save for a single hotel room.

“All your rooms have two beds,” the desk clerk was saying. “Unfortunately, all our roll away beds are also booked. And as you can see,” he lowered his voice, gesturing over our shoulders to the twenty or so people waiting hopefully behind us, “we are going to be over capacity at any rate. I’m sorry.”

The other receptionist, looking just as tired and resigned, hands over a set of keys to a girl in a green parka with a white wool cap pulled over her ears. I’m watching her as the hotel debates what to do with us – it’ll work out, it always does. The girl waits to sign something, pen held in a hand that wears one of those fingerless gloves. Brown hair sticks out the bottom of her cap, twisting in the tassels. Her legs looks strong under dark jeans, svelte and shapely, and they disappear under her coat before I can confirm that her ass is as perfect as I expect.

“I’m sorry, but there’s just no way to get another room. Every single one is already claimed and checked in.”

She turns toward us, obviously listening. Her fair skin blooms into rosy cheeks from the cold. The desk agent is punching buttons and mumbling at his printer.

“Does my room have two beds?” I hear her ask because I’m eavesdropping too. The clerk says yes, finally presenting the credit card form. She flourishes the pen and wheels her suitcase in our direction. Without invitation, she stops just behind my shoulder.

“You guys are shy a bed?”

We open our little circle and look at her, even our receptionist who is clearly at his wit’s end. She’s got wide hazel eyes and a perfect pair of Cupid’s bow lips. Freckles splash across the bridge of her slightly upturned nose. With her ski hat on, she looks like a Tommy Hilfiger advertisement. Her voice has a slight accent, Minnesota maybe. I hear Kaner draw in a breath like he’s just uncovered something shiny.

“Yes, we are overbooked and unfortunately one room short of their room block.” The desk agent is desperate to make us go away however he can. She regards me, Kane and Sharpie in turn. We’re wearing long coats and suits with toques pulled low – it’s about as reputable as we ever look. Especially Kaner. A tiny little shrug lifts her shoulders.

“Who doesn’t snore?” she asks, straight white teeth flashing as her soft lips part.

I don’t know where it comes from. It’s like a lightning round on a game show and I really want to win, though I haven’t even seen the prize. “I don’t,” I volunteer. It’s true. I don’t think Sharpie does either, but he’s married and Kaner… well, Kaner never met a girl he couldn’t get drunk and take advantage of. So if this girl is going where I think, no hope, she’s going…

“You can stay with me. I have two beds.”

Kaner’s hand comes down hard on the back of my shoulder, right at the soft spot inside the blade. Son of a bitch. But he can’t argue because he knows I’m right.

“Come on, I’m on six.” We all follow her, as if she’s invited us all back. Sharpie gives me the People’s Eyebrow – one really high arch as if to say, are you serious? Of course, I’m Captain Serious. And right now, I’m looking down at my new roommate in her snow boots.

“We’re on eight… if you need anything,” Kaner offers. Then he adds, “Jon,” hastily, because we all know he obviously isn’t talking to me at all. I follow her into the hallway and just before the elevator door closes them in, give Kaner and Sharpie the finger.
____

I am being really brash and I know it; it surprises people. One of my favorite things to do. We stop at the door and he’s nervous, I can tell. But grateful.

“I’m Jon,” he says. “Thanks so much for this, it’s awesome. Normally I’d say no but….”

I allow myself to really take in his face for the first time. Jonathan Toews. I’ve seen him a hundred thousand times on TV but in real life that face, somewhere between a man and a boy, is almost heartbreaking in its innocence. His shy smile doesn’t match the large, wide size of his body. I think this might be a bad idea, that I’ll sleep walk right into his bed the second the lights are down. Especially if he sleeps with his shirt off. I could fit twice inside the width of his shoulders.

“But you don’t want to sleep in the lobby? It’s no problem. I’m Renee.”

Jon reaches over me to hold the door open. I wheel my suitcase down the short hallway and stop at the foot of the bed. As in singular.

“Uh, that’s not two beds,” he says. Captain Obvious they should call this one.

“Hmm. It’s not.”

Jon moves back toward the door. “I’ll just go down and see if there’s anything….”

I set my bag against the dresser. The bed is a king size, maybe California king. It looks like a continent capable of its own tectonic plate action and weather patterns. Acres of soft down comforter call to my aching body after a long day of travel. I feel Jon’s presence behind me. The hell he’s leaving now.

“Wait,” I say. “It’s fine, it’s bigger than two beds!”

He hesitates – I know he really doesn’t want to sleep on someone’s floor but this might be too much, too weird.

“Let’s try it.” I make him lie down on one side, comfortably away from the edge, and stretch his inside arm out toward the middle. I lie near the other edge and do the same – our fingertips barely graze where they meet in the center. A little tremor zings through my stomach at the touch of his hand, right down between my hips.

“See, no problem,” I say.
____

No problem if you don’t mind waking up underneath me, I think. She’s shed her coat and wears just a clingy black sweater and jeans. Her body curves and hollows like a racetrack. Dark hair slays out behind her. Even a square mile of mattress between us doesn’t change the fact that this is a bed. And she’s in it, with me.

I shouldn’t. I can’t. What would my mother say? But I’m sore from back-to-back games and the idea of sleeping on a cold hard floor or a cramped couch is a strong deterrent. Her breathing is soft and I know that if I could wrap around it, I’d sleep like a baby.

“If you’re sure,” I say, asking her to make the decision for me.

She does. “You’re staying.”

We lay there, four feet apart on our backs, staring at the ceiling. “We’ll pay for this, of course,” I offer.

She sits up. “Better than that, you can buy me a drink.”
____

The hotel bar is crowded – there’s nowhere else for anyone to go. Jon leans over the bar, his imposing size pressing against me, and orders two beers. Someone shouts his name and I see some teammates have commandeered a table in the back.

“Guys, this is Renee,” he says, tipping Corey Crawford off a chair and giving it to me.

“Ah, the roommate. You know Jon usually has his own room on the road,” Duncan Keith informs me. I look at Jon, trying to keep the smile off my lips. He just shrugs noncommittally like I’m free to dig my own grave.

“Doesn’t even have his own bed this time. Hotel was wrong, my room’s just one big king size bed.”

“You’re fucking kidding me!” Kaner immediately shouts, banging his beer down on the table. Everyone howls with laughter.

I can’t help myself, it’s too easy to pass up. “With any luck the heat will go out and we’ll have to cuddle.”

Someone buys me a drink, then another. Strangely no one has mentioned that they’re the Chicago Blackhawks, or even a hockey team. I hear their conversations about plays and players, but no talks to me about it. Instead we discuss everything else – movies and the holidays and who knows what. Every time my beer gets half-empty a fresh one appears. Either they know that I know, or they assume that I wouldn’t know even if they told me.

“What brings you to Jersey, Renee?” Patrick Sharp asks. He’s a fucking hottie, that’s for sure and I wonder if I made the right roommate choice. Then I see his wedding ring.

“Visiting friends for New Years. If I can get there,” I tell him.

Jon is next to me, chair pulled in close. His shoulder is warm where it touches mine, so I know he’s one of those guys that radiates heat. Like a testosterone furnace. Under that soft comforter… stop. Beneath his overcoat he wore a suit, the jacket to which hangs nearby. Jon’s tie is undone, hanging around his neck with the top buttons of his shirt undone. He looks like a fashion ad. I want to grab both ends of the tie, pull him in and kiss him. Someone should really stop sending me drinks.

Duncan tells and joke and I laugh, leaning back in my chair. Jon’s hand catches my arm on the far side and I realize his arm is around the top of my seat. Just waiting. His fingers gently squeeze against my skin, inviting me to stay there. So I do.

At midnight, the bar has cleared out considerably. We’ve all had quite a few drinks and I’m feeling good – just tipsy, since I never made it all the way through any of my bottles. At least it’s warm, this feeling. What’s left of our group gets up to leave and the teasing begins anew.

“You guys go have fun at your slumber party!” Kane says. “While I smell Sharpie’s feet.”

“There’s always the couch in the lobby, Kaner. Feel free,” Sharp counters. We crowd into the elevator and on six they practically throw us out.

“He likes to be the little spoon!” Duncan yells before the doors close. Jon hangs his head, laughing. I shrug to cover the shudder that passes through me at the thought.

“Everyone likes to be the little spoon,” I say.
____

I should have stopped two drinks ago. Before I put my arm over her chair and waited for her to lean into me. But it was so warm, which made me want to touch her. The fabric of her sweater was soft and quick against my skin – one graze and I was done. I held her arm so she wouldn’t move.

Now she’s giggling and opening the hotel room door. I hope she’s thinking what I’m thinking.

Renee opens her suitcase on the far side of the room and comes up with a little silver bag. I move slowly, hanging my coat, as she steps into the bathroom and closes the door. Five minutes later we switch.

I pull on sweatpants and a Reebok t-shirt. Nothing with a Hawks logo on it, that’s too cheesy. I don’t know if she knows who I am and right now I don’t care. I brush my teeth so well my dentist would weep with joy and I even floss quickly.

She’s standing by the window, hands held open over the heating vent and looking out the window. Her black pants are stretchy and I can’t help but admire the rise and shape of her ass. That dark hair is pulled forward over the shoulder of a little red t-shirt, exposing one side of her neck.

I feel like a train that’s moving full speed right off the end of the track. I step up behind her, completely invading her space, and hold my hands out on either side of hers. The heat from the wall is nothing compared to the heat of having her inside my arms and almost touching her. She doesn’t move away, doesn’t move at all. I slowly lower my mouth to the bare skin behind her left ear and put my lips gently against her neck.

I feel her breathe out. It makes her back round until it touches my chest and that’s all the green light I need. My arms fold around her, holding her still and tight, as I work my kiss down into over the curve of her neck and stop just at the collar of her shirt. Her hair smells almost as good as her skin.

She’s looking at me in our reflection. I put my chin on top of her head, keeping her there, and unfold my arms from across her chest. There on the front of her shirt, so big I don’t know how I missed it, is a New Jersey Devils logo.

“What the hell is that?” I don’t let her go, just point to it in the window.

“The Devils are a hockey team. I thought all guys liked sports?” she asked.
____

I have him for a brief second, and it’s glorious. That face like a billboard, every emotion visible from miles away. Jon goes from surprised to stunned to backtracking in two heartbeats. But I can’t keep it up. He’s about to brush off his comment when I burst out laughing.

“Jon! I’m kidding!” I turn around without stepping away, keeping my chest close to his. His eyes cloud over for a minute like he’s not sure which joke I’m making. “Okay, Captain Serious.”

He takes a step back, then his face cracks into a smile. Blush rises hard and fast in his cheeks. He looks like a little boy but that doesn’t reconcile with the electricity I just felt flowing between us as he took the liberty of kissing me. I match his step and help myself to his lips. Instantly his stops fidgeting and his mouth comes alive. Lips part, tongues meet and we lose all pretense as we wrap around each other tightly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he mumbles against my cheek. I’ve got a handful of his short hair and another of his black t-shirt.

“You really thought I’d let a complete stranger share my hotel room?” I lean back slightly, probably a mistake as those bottomless brown eyes meet mine, full of lust.

“Maybe you thought I was hot,” he smiles, but it’s half-wincing.

I kiss him again, hard. “Oh, I do. But I also know that you’re most likely not a serial killer.”

His arms join around my lower back, one hand grazing my backside. “Most likely. I guess I should have worried that you’d let just anyone in here.”

I bump my shoulder against his chest – the most leverage I can get while he’s holding me so tightly. “Not just anyone. Not Kaner.”

Our laughter is quickly swallowed by more kissing. His hands move to my sides and chest up and down, running over my shirt until he finally grips my hips, then slides his palms flat over my ass. I slide one knee between his and now our whole bodies are getting acquainted.

“There’s more – want to hear it now or later?” I whisper into his ear, tracing the delicate shape of the lobe with one fingertip.

“Good or bad?” He pulled the collar of my shirt open and nipped at my shoulder.

“Depends.”

He meets my eyes. “Okay, now.”

“I’m visiting Zach Parise. We went to school together.”

Jon contemplates me for a minute, the wheels in his head turning. “I like Zach. He’s a good guy.”

“He said the same thing about you,” I tell him. Jon steps back, confused. “I texted him before. He might call you to find out why on Earth I’m asking if you’re a good guy. But he said yes.”

Whatever Jon’s thinking passes from his face. His hands run up my arms to my shoulders then lift my hair from my neck. “So I have the seal of approval?” Those lips meet my skin without waiting for an answer.
____


Guess I’m gonna owe Parise a favor, I think as I kiss her again. Her hands slide under my shirt and she spreads them wide, dragging thumbs over my stomach and making my muscles flutter. Okay, I owe him big time.

Now that we’re going for it, I might as well go for it. I pick Renee up and she obediently wraps her legs around my waist. I let go of her ass only to set it on the edge of the dresser, leaving most of her weight angled into my lap. We grind against each other, both bodies and mouths, and I let her feel what I’ve been thinking all night. She takes her hands from my body only long enough for me to pull the offending t-shirt over her head. The raised texture of her bra across her smooth back raises goosebumps along my arms.

We’re drunk, or at least I am, and I’m feeling reckless. I take off my own shirt, flexing needlessly and enjoying the hiss of breath that she sucks in at the sight of me. Then she’s back in my lap, making a happily surprised noise against my tongue as both it and my erection spear into her.

“Jon,” she whispers. Her fingers press into the soft, exposed parts of my back – she knows all the pressure points and I forgot I was sore from the games. I scoop her up again and drop her onto the huge bed. Our bed.

I leave her lying there and hook my thumbs into the waistband of her stretchy pants. They offer no resistance as I tug them down. She arches her back beautifully and lifts her ass into the air, letting me bare her legs completely. I take one foot in hand and kiss her instep, then along her ankle and up onto her calf. She’s tossed out before me in purple lace panties and a matching bra. Her hands reach out for me.
____

If I don’t get him up here and all over me I’m going to lose my mind. He comes when I beckon, pressing his face to mine as his chest, lap and legs cover me completely. He’s hard as a rock beneath those sweatpants. I reach for them, pushing at the fabric, until I feel Jon laugh.

“Something I can help you with?” he mumbles.

I could be funny, I could pretend to whine or beg. But I’m way past that. “Get naked with me, Jon,” I say softly. It works – his shoulders melt a little before he can struggle up to standing. My eyes drink in his tall, perfect shape as he drops the pants from his waist and stands before me in black boxer briefs.

“Come here,” I say, and he does. He’s right back over me and my hands can’t resist running over the impressive length barely contained by his underwear. His breath catches in satisfaction as I run a palm flat down his front, making it count. Then next one goes under the fabric.

Jon has my panties off in a flash. His shorts follow quickly and before I know it we’re in the same position, those intense brown eyes staring into mine, without so much as a breath of fabric between us. A single, slightly rough fingertip drags across my inner thigh then back down the way it came. I whimper. I’m wet – I’ve been wet all night. He dabs into it and wipes a single smear across the top of my thigh. Then he slowly lowers himself until his velvety tongue extends and licks it from my skin.

“Jon.” I hear myself say it but I don’t remember speaking. A second later, he’s pressing himself inside me.
____

Every ounce of control I’ve ever learned as a hockey player is needed to keep from plowing into her all at once. I’m a pretty big guy, if you know what I mean, and I don’t want to hurt her. I want her to enjoy this as much as I know I will. She’s tight and soaked, the swollen softness of her arousal sliding around me like a glove. I breathe out as she breathes in, sharing the pleasure of pressure between us. When I’m tucked in as far as we both go, she opens her eyes.

“I hope it snows all day tomorrow,” I say. It earns a laugh and I start to move.

Her body gives itself up without protest. Her neck is soft beneath my mouth, I feel her pulse pounding against my lips. Small, breathy noises encourage me. When I roll my hips deeply, she gives a soft cry.

“Mmmm, that feels good,” she purrs, so I do it again. Our eyes hold together and we actually talk a little while we feel each other out. That’s very rare for me – usually I’m running for the finish line and crashing into sleep. Instead I find myself smiling, telling her what I like and trying to find out the same from her.

Each breast is full in my hand, the round of it defying physics in its perfection. I flick her nipple with my thumb, bringing it to full attention. Then I follow with my mouth. Her hands press into my neck and I know she’s enjoying this. Her skin feels like butter and tastes like heaven.
____

I can’t move. I can’t think or even breathe. Jon has stripped me to the core and his slow, deliberate attentions are scrambling my brain. He pays attention to the noises I make, the shudders of my body in a way no one ever has the first time. It makes me want to be sure there are many more times after this.

My leg hooks over his hip, urging him to move harder. He needs no more encouragement. Every part of my body sings as his fantastic cock bottoms out inside me, riding me deep into the mattress. I bite his earlobe as I whisper, “Yes, Jon.”

I twist my hips against his strokes, adding friction. We don’t need blankets – we’re generating heat to spare. My fingers struggle to get enough comforter to push against his mighty swings. I don’t think Jon has any idea how strong he really is. I give up and cling to his shoulders, his thrusts driving me down hard until I’m begging.

“Oh God Jon, don’t stop.” The words are barely away before I come, my eyes squeezing closed as tight as my body locks onto his. He’s so deep, so hard that it takes just a few tiny movements to stroke the orgasm right out of me. I moan, pressing my mouth to his skin, as my body bursts like a peach and spills juice everywhere.

“Renee,” he says quietly, over and over, as he rides me out. My body grips and slips, pulsing hard as my back arches off the bed beneath him. When I’m finally spent, falling flat with a deep exhale, he picks up his pace.
____


Finally, yes finally. The only thing I want to do more than come is to make her come. When her body breaks, flooding warmth onto my raging flesh, it’s like a red flag to a bull. I bite down on her shoulder as her body pumps against mine, inviting me to fill the space inside. When she finally rocks still I am about to pass out.

“Baby,” I say as I pound into her, doubling my energy . “Baby.” My head is swimming and my heart racing, I’m so, so close to the edge. But it’s not just about me. I open my eyes to find her watching me, still moving with me and enjoying the feel of being so close together.

“I want it, Jon,” she smiles wickedly. And so she gets it. I bury myself into her twice, three times before the world explodes into stars. My back bows, my lips on hers as I spurt hard and drain myself inside her. It seems to last ages, popping and rolling from my thighs to my neck, her body absorbing every ounce of me. When I finally come to my senses, my face is pressed to her neck and I’m panting. Renee’s hand is in my hair, holding me close. I fall against her, still nestled inside.

“Wow,” I whisper.

“Yeah,” she says. Then she giggles. And I giggle. And we’re laughing hysterically, joined in every way, without any kind of embarrassment. That’s new too.

I reluctantly disentangle myself but stay close, hand spread wide in the center of her bare stomach. She offers me a kiss, which I accept greedily. My buzz is gone but I still feel giddy.

“I should have known you’d figure out a way to sleep naked,” she smiled.
____

Jon leans his bare ass against the bathroom counter, completely naked. I’m watching him while he’s watching me, also naked, brushing my teeth. When I finish I let him use my toothbrush and help myself to the very impressive view. Only I can’t keep my hands off him. I stand behind and trace every indent and rise of his perfect musculature. He has development where I don’t even have body parts. Each of them is hard or soft in turn, like paint-by-numbers, only far more precise. When I finish at the base of his spine, he’s watching me in the mirror. He’s been done for a long time.

I let him lead me to the bed and we slide beneath the covers. Everything is white and soft, so welcoming. I throw off all but two pillows, pile them up and offer him half. Then I slide in against him and feel his heavy arm close over my side.

“Everyone likes to be the little spoon,” he says, kissing the spot just behind my ear. Before we fall asleep, I hope out loud that it’s still snowing outside.
____