Page 7 of Step Puck

“What are you doing here? How do you know where I work anyway?” Her hands are on her sweetly full hips, that trail up to a tiny waist. Fuck, just looking at her gives me a chub. She’s grown into a gorgeous, captivating woman. One I want to get my hands and my mouth on and my dick in. Now I’m getting uncomfortable here. She’s a whirlwind of energy, excitement and womanly desire. I want her. I need her and I’m going to have her. She’s mine. She always has been I only had to wait for her to grow up into what she has become. A woman any red-blooded man with a working cock will crave.

“I called your house, and your mom told me where you were. Very accommodating. Trust me, I was surprised. And wary. But I had to take advantage of her change of attitude. I don’t trust it. Believe me.” I raise one hand to stroke my chin, watching the lightening virtually shoot out the top of her head as it explodes. She was always easy to exasperate. But she always kept going. She never had a stop button, when she wanted something, she went after it no matter what it took. She has a tenacity I admire. I have it to some degree. That’s how I got to where I am in the game and never been traded like some of the other guys have. I always give the team manager and owner what they want. Blocks for the opposing teams' pucks.

“Momma, did? I don’t believe it.” Her eyes narrow more into slits, her fingers tighten onto the tray she carries so hard, I’m afraid the edge is going to break.

I shrug one shoulder, “I don’t care whether you do or not. I’m a paying customer. I’ll have an order of cheese jalapenos too. Sounds good.”

“So, why are you. You have one more game. Shouldn’t you be training or flying off to somewhere?”

Her annoyance has made her forget we have a home game again. She blows out a huff and flounces away, her hips swaying in a way to make me salivate like a wolf waiting for a juicy steak after days of starvation. God, I can watch the swing of those hips and bounce of her tits all day and still want more.

She passes through the swinging doors to the kitchen, not waiting for my answer and by the tilt of her chin proud of having had the last word. I’ll give it to her. She can yack all day and I’ll be happy to stare like a lovelorn fool from a romance novel.

Lorelei marches back out as if she’s ready to do battle. She passes me without a look, her tray filled with the food Bud ordered. She thumps the tray down waiting for him to protest about anything. He’s not a stupid man it seems, his mouth is shut tight. He tries to smile with his mouth closed, he raises his hand and zips his lips with his fingers. She gives him a sharp nod, does an about face and heads back to the kitchen without a glance my way.

Okay if she wants to play a game, I like games, especially this kind. She runs and I’ll be sure to catch. Like the wolf I’m envisioning. I wait, resting my ass against the edge of a bar stool, too hyped to sit.

She comes sashaying out, plopping a plate down in front of me with a clatter, a raised eyebrow and tight lips, “do you want ranch or anything?”

I sit fully into my seat and try not laugh at her self-satisfied expression and body language, one hip out, her order pad in hand. “Got any hot salsa or anything else hot?”

She bites her bottom lip, pulling it into her mouth. She lets it out, “we have a really hot ranch dressing.”

“I’ll have that.”

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s really hot.”

“I definitely do. Hotter the better.”

“Warned you. I’ll make sure to let the cook know to add a little more hot sauce for you. Special.” She smirks as if she’ll have the best of me.

She leaves again and comes back five minutes later. She sets the little bowl of white sauce in front of me. She doesn’t leave only waits and watches for me to take my first bite. I love habanero so I’m sure this won’t affect me. I reach down and pick up a popper, slathering it into the sauce, putting it into my mouth and taking a huge bite. The savory heat from the popper builds and builds to a heat that kindles slowly, reaching a level in incinerating fieriness that burns my tastebuds and blazes down my throat to ignite in my stomach with a mouthwatering conflagration.

I’ve never had anything hotter even than wasabi. It’s so good I can’t eat them fast enough. It doesn’t take me long to finish the twelve bites. I’m definitely coming here again for more which I don’t dare have more of right now. I have the most important game of the season, after all. I’m going to have to spend a few hours working this off and the ones I had last night in my home gym tonight.

Lorelei stands still watching my face, her eyes wide, expression incredulous. “You ate all of that.”

“I’m surprised to say that was good. Very good in fact. Tell the cook I’ll definitely tell my friends and come back for this myself.” I pat my flat stomach, turning my stool slightly to the side and talk facing her.

I lean one elbow against the bar, the other I rest against my thigh, getting into our conversations.

“I’ve got to get back to work.” She snaps, ducking her head, a little smile turning up the corners of her lips, a blush working down from her cheeks to her chest, a deep beautiful red. I watch as she turns and hurries, making the rounds, asking each table about their order. She works the tables with a sassiness I’ve never seen in her before. She has certainly changed from the shy tomboy. The confidence is a good look on her.

I’m just about ready to leave, payment and tips on the bar and I’m moving my stool away when the door opens with a whoosh of windy night air and Dena stumbles in, her shrill voice resounds throughout the room. “Mommy’s here, baby girl.”

Lorelei stops, her face a perfect picture of horror and anxiety. I can understand the anxiety, her mother here, drunk already, at her workplace. That has to be demoralizing for her. Everybody in the bar is staring at them, Dena’s voice isn’t slurred yet, if she stays it will be soon.

“A scotch over here if anyone’s working.” An unknown voice from the back, in the shadows where the lighting is dimmer.

“Be there in a minute with your drink.”

She says to Dena, “I think you should go, Momma. I’m working now.”

“I…I’m here to have some fun. You can’t be the only one. I won’t let you deny me this.” Dena grumbles, her eyes search over the tables and the bar until she finds me. Her face fills with a big grin of avarice. Covetous of me. She wants a taste. Of me.

7

LORELEI

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