Skid Marks and the Selby Slammers

by April Ryder

  "Men are a weakness of all straight girls. Learn to ignore distractions of the manly flesh or you will be a liability to the team—if selected," she told me before throwing her glorious curls over her shoulder and sailing away across the rink.

  I sighed. She was right. But damn her for having an advantage. She was cute, assertive, born to skate and not attracted to that manly flesh she had mentioned. I stole another glance at Jake and smiled when he winked at me. Damn his flesh for being so manly and attractive. Rick, who stood next to Jake, glared back at me. Now him I could ignore, although as I remembered his shirtless body in the wrong changing room, I amended that to include: as long as he was fully clothed.

  * * *

  I lingered behind after the cool down and when the girls were all in the changing room, I hunted down something to remove the marks I had left on the floor. There were no guys to distract me or anyone for me to be embarrassed in front of. Their coach had said something about a sauna before they had disappeared. My mind of course wandered to a room full of hot, sweaty and very sexy hockey players as they lounged in—or out of—towels. Oh, to be a fly on that wall!

  The last of the girls left the changing room as I stepped into the disabled stall. Now I know I'm not disabled, but everyone—who takes showering seriously that is—knows these are the best showers. I looked the oversized stall over to ensure everything was accounted for. Detachable shower head? Check. Pull down shower seat? Check. Enough room for my towel and clothes? Hmm, no dry surfaces. Looks like the last user had gotten overexcited and wet everything, including the toilet in the corner. No biggie. I left my clothes outside on one of the benches. I wasn't giving up this uber-shower. Not when it was the closest one to the water tank and therefore had the greatest amount of water pressure. Don't look at me like that. I know a lot about showers. Remember my intimate knowledge of Shawn the shower?

  I turned the lever and pulled it all the way out for full pressure. It took mere seconds to heat up and I was under that forceful spray in moments.

  "I think I'll call you…" I paused, considering my options. Shawn had been named after an actor I'd crushed on for ages. So it seemed fitting to name this shower after another crush. "You can be Jake. Jake the shower. Pleasure to meet you. I'll be Hayley, your showeree and I enjoy getting wet and soapy."

  Yes, I'm weird. Get over it.

  Speaking of Jake—the real one not the shower—now that I had touched him, my crush felt like something more than a crush. He had flirted with me and he had checked me out. Did that mean he was interested? I think so, but then hot looking guys didn't tend to give me a second glance. Paul was somewhat good looking, but he wasn't Jake hot. No the only one that came close to Jake hot was Rick's abs. Rick's abs and his pecs. Maybe his arms. Okay, he was nicely muscled. Jake on the other hand, was lean but nowhere near scrawny and he had such a gorgeous face and perfect butt. Jake was every girl's wet dream.

  Speaking of wet dreams…

  I detached the shower head and addressed it. "Jake, let's get to know each other a little better. C'mon, don't be shy."

  I was alone in the changing room and had access to a well-pressured shower. I was going to take advantage of it. A much needed pick-me-up after the embarrassing evening I'd had. A way to offset all the bruises I would no doubt wake up with tomorrow. Poor Jake, I felt sorry for him. He was never designed to be used this way—or was he?

  In an enclosed, warm, wet space it's very easy to forget the outside world. Let it all melt away. It's over there somewhere out of sight. It doesn't matter. It took only a second to slip into fantasy land—complete with my own fantasy Jake…

  I was in the middle of getting dressed when I heard the door open behind me. I turned around and gasped. There, framed in the doorway, stood Jake. Absolutely positively naked.

  "What are you doing in here?" I demanded.

  "I've been watching you," he said as he stepped further into the changing room. The door closed behind him. We were alone. "The way you skate, the way you smile and laugh. The way you flirt."

  I gave up my attempts to be modest and lowered my towel. "Oh?" I said, trying to be cool and slightly disinterested at the same time. I probably failed but he didn't seem to care. I also took the opportunity to ogle his gorgeous body.

  "And then we touched," he said and smiled. "I felt a spark or something and I just knew that I had to touch you again. Touch more of you."

  "Okay," I said.

  "Okay?"

  "Okay, you can touch me," I told him. "Touch me, thrill me, kiss me. Any or all of the above, including fuck me."

  I don't know where any of that came from. I'm not normally so forward, but damn was he hot. Hot and he wanted me. ME. As far as I was concerned he could have me. My fingers itched to touch him, while the rest of me warmed from the inside. From my core, out. One touch and I would burst into flame and leave nothing behind except for a large burnt mark on the changing room floor.

  Again he smiled. His perfect white teeth glinted in the energy-efficient light as he closed the distance between us. I hoped that once I had invited him in, he would return often—like a vampire.

  Our first kiss was gentle, innocent. Not at all what I had expected. I was on fire and he was the fuel. I thought we would explode like fireworks over the Harbour bridge. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down, hard against me. This was more like it. I wanted it rough. Needed him to ravish me. Fuck away the last grief I felt at being dumped in such a callous way. Pound new happy memories into me. Ones I could fondly remember and reenact at home with/in Shawn.

  "You can't break me," I told him. "I'm not one of those sticks you usually fuck. I'm a real woman."

  "You're right," he said. "You are so right. I don't know what I was thinking. Let me try again."

  With that he ripped my panties, leaving marks on my hips where they had dug in before tearing at the seams. I nodded my approval. Paul had never been so aggressive, nor had he ever tried to ravish me. I found I quite liked it.

  Jake pushed me back into the disabled stall and onto the pull down seat. He knelt reverently before me and lifted my legs, placing my feet on his shoulders.

  "Holy shit."

  That was him, not me as he peeled back my pink glistening folds. And it was an impressed holy shit in case you were wondering. He disappeared between my legs and tickled my clit with his tongue. He visited other areas and teased each in turn—labia, pussy, below my pussy—and lapped up the wetness that dripped from my slit.

  I moaned when his fingers circled my lower lips. He dipped the tip of one inside and I moaned again.

  "More," I begged.

  Unlike Paul, he listened and did what I asked. Another finger joined the first. He plunged them deeper. My pussy tightened around the intrusion but didn't deny him access for long. When I unclenched, he shoved in a third finger and pressed his thumb against my clit. The preorgasmic sensation jerked my hips from the seat and he accepted the extra weight on his shoulders without complaint.

  As much as I enjoyed being finger-fucked, it was his cock that I wanted to feel inside me. I pushed him away and invited him to join me. He grinned and sucked my juices from his fingers before he pulled me to my feet.

  I yanked on the lever to the shower and hot water rained down on us. I couldn't have dreamed of a better first time with him.

  "Oh Jake," I moaned. "Take me."

  He turned me so my back faced him. I pushed out my backside and presented myself as best I could. Sometimes sex in this position was difficult, I had a large arse that got in the way but he navigated his cock easily past my flab and slammed home. I jumped forward, surprised at his size and the force of his thrust.

  "Use the shower head, Hayley," he told me.

  I was already one step ahead of him and adjusted the water flow setting to pound.

  He pulled back agonisingly slowly, but I enjoyed every moment. "Oh Hayley, I'm gonna fuck you so good you'll be ruined for other men."

  A promise I was lookin
g forward to and I wasn't disappointed. Jake moved like a piston on a train, with unrelenting precision. Jake—the shower head—worked hard as well. Usually I avoided using pound directly on my clit, it was too much all at once. Tonight I was able to take it. With both Jakes pounding into me it didn't take long for me to reach climax—also something else Paul had failed at.

  "Jake! Oh Jake," I yelled through the euphoria as it built. It finally culminated in an explosion of light and sound—oddly similar to what I experienced with my migraines—as my body convulsed violently.

  I fell and landed on my hands and knees. The shower head, now free, whipped around wildly like a snake until I fumbled it off. I blinked the last of the brightly coloured shadows away and panted on the wet floor. I looked around, at first confused that I was alone in the stall. Then reality hit and I giggled. That had to be the best fantasy I'd ever had! And to top it all off, it had been set in a shower.

  "God I hope his dick is that big," I muttered out loud then laughed. Tears would be next. It always happened after I'd given myself a really good orgasm. After the initial giddiness wore off, I'd burst into tears, for no apparent reason. Hormones or something. My body was swimming in them.

  I wiped tears from my eyes and got back to my feet. I opened the door, grabbed my towel and was in the process of wrapping it around me when I realised I wasn't alone. Unfortunately, this was reality and not another fantasy. Nor was it Jake who stood guiltily by my clothes with my panties clenched tightly in hand.

  "You're not Jake."

  "No," he said. The guilty look on his face disappeared, quickly replaced with the angry one I was used to. "Sorry to disappoint you."

  We glared at each other. He was better at it though, seeing as he was clothed and seemed to have more practice.

  "Wh-what are you doing?" I asked, hoping for some sane, logical response as to why the man who liked to yell at me had my panties. "This is the women's changing room."

  "I know."

  I blinked. After the swear-filled tirade he had given me earlier, that's all he had to say? I snapped. I know, completely out of character for me, but he deserved it.

  I marched up to him, placed my fisted hands on my hips and got all up in his face, just like he had with me in the rink. "That giant tent in your hand? That's mine."

  I couldn't believe what he did next. He dropped them. On the floor. Right in a puddle of water.

  "Oh my god," I breathed as we both stared at my sodden plus-sized panties.

  "Sorry," he said and bent to retrieve them.

  "Well, so you should be," I admonished.

  When he didn't get back up, I knew something was wrong. I looked down at the top of his head and frowned. This had gone beyond the Outer Limits.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "You should put a towel on," he murmured, speaking to the ground and not up at me.

  "A towel?" I asked, confused. That's when I remembered I was naked under my towel—except my towel was missing. I slapped one hand over my still tingling lady bits and an arm across my breasts, smacking him in the side of the head in the process.

  He grunted and tilted slightly before righting himself while still crouched on the floor.

  For a man who just had his hands on my panties, he sure was going to great extremes to avert his eyes. Why would a man do that? Why would he only be interested in panties and not the woman who wore them?

  "God you don't wear them, do you?" I asked without thinking.

  "No!"

  That answer was too quick.

  "I was just—never mind."

  On the one hand, I was curious about what he actually wanted them for but on the other, I was still naked and he wasn't. Not that I wanted him to join me in being naked!

  "Oh god," I groaned again.

  I spied my towel on the floor behind me and retrieved it. I made sure it was wrapped around me extra tight before I made him leave.

  He of course, tried to apologise again before shutting the door. "I'm sorry. It's not what you—"

  "Just get out. We're even okay. We're so totally even that you might owe me!" I froze, suddenly aware that I had possibly suggested that I wanted to see the other half of him—the half I hadn't yet seen—naked. "Get out!"

  * * *

  I struggled into my clothes, still angry with that man, when the door opened yet again.

  "I told you to get out," I growled without looking. I didn't care if he was standing there, with a rose between his teeth and begging me for forgiveness. I wasn't going to look.

  "Are you talking about Rick?"

  "You're not Rick," I said, surprised to find Hello Kilty behind me with a curious look on her face.

  "No. Why would I—never mind," she said and took a seat on the bench across from me. "If he's giving you trouble, just ignore him. He's all bark. Won't bite, even if you ask."

  My eyes widened at what she might have just implied.

  "He's not like the other guys, he takes hockey seriously," she explained. "He used to be in the national ice hockey team until he injured his knee."

  "So he's what, bitter?"

  She pulled a face as she considered her words. "More like angry. Maybe a little depressed. He hasn't finished grieving."

  "Over his knee?"

  "No, not his knee. I think he's accepted that. He lost his brother at the same time. Car crash. It's sad really. Tony was a good guy."

  "That's sad," I agreed.

  "Yeah."

  Silence.

  "Anyway," she said as she got back to her feet. "I wanted to let you in on a little secret. Don't tell anyone, but you're definitely on the team. Congrats!"

  "Thanks!"

  "And you don't have to worry about picking out a derby name. We've already got one for you"

  I frowned and waited while she paused for dramatic effect. Whatever it was I knew I would hate it. Call me crazy, but…

  "Skid Marks."

  I groaned and covered my face. "I'm never going to live that down now."

  "Never!" she said with a cheeky grin. "Practice next Wednesday and your first derby will be on the Friday. And congrats again, Skid Marks."

  I couldn't wait to tell Adam that I was now a proud member of the Selby Slammers. Where the hell was he, anyway?

  =^.^=

  Two Skid Marks

  =^.^=

  "Adam you're a dead man," I muttered under my breath.

  My bestie Adam had promised he would swing by tryouts after he finished work. Provide moral support, then take me home. But of course, there was no sign of Adam. Not when I needed him most. Not when I'm standing outside the sports centre, sans knickers because Rick the Dick has an underwear fetish and had to drop mine in a puddle in the women's changing room. No way am I wearing soggy knickers. That's just gross. My lady bits deserved better than that. No squelching for them!

  Speaking of my lady bits. They had a craving for Jake, lucky number 7. I sighed at the memory of my recent shower fantasy of the hunky hockey player and almost squeaked when the object of my lust appeared beside me.

  "Heya Princess," he said with an easy smile.

  "Uh, hi." Why yes, I had majored in English before quitting university, can you tell?

  Jake, however, seemed impressed with my vast vocabulary and smiled down at me. His teeth were straight and brilliantly white. Something I'm sure my mother would approve of. No, nononononono, there was no way I was going to tell my mother about him. She still grieved the loss of Paul. At least that's how I chose to interpret her bombardment of helpful texts over the past few days. No mum, I will not put fruit crumble in places fruit crumble does not belong. That's so not sexy.

  "We're going out for a drink," he said.

  "Beersies!" one of his teammates yelled from nearby. A handful of men grinned at me when I gave them my attention.

  "Go Jake!"

  Jake touched my elbow, below where my T-shirt ended. Heat blossomed from where our skin met and raced across my body, straight to my clit. I was so ho
t right then that I wouldn't be surprised if steam whistled out of my ears. I suddenly panicked, afraid I had incinerated my knickers, but when Rick walked past and briefly locked eyes with me, I remembered what had happened to them. Jerk face.

  "Wanna join us?" Jake asked.

  "What?" I said as my gaze followed Rick. Glare. Glare. Glare. The despicable man didn't join his friends. Instead, he headed to a formidable-looking motorbike. I don't know why, but he took his time getting his gear on. What was his problem anyway? Other than being a total pervert, that is.

  "Drinks," Jake repeated and I forced my attention back to him.

  I withheld the squee that threatened to escape. He wasn't asking me out, not exactly. He was being friendly and inviting me to join the guys for a drink. Oh, no. Had I just been friendzoned?

  Fortunately the taxi I had rung for arrived, saving me from making a fool of myself once more.

  "This is for me," I told him.

  He frowned but opened the back door, holding it while I climbed inside and lugged my gear in after me. How gentlemanly, I thought with a smile.

  "Maybe another time," he offered.

  "Yeah," I said, already regretting getting into the taxi. "I'm sorry, but I've got work tomorrow and I need to kill a guy."

  He nodded as if he understood. "As long as it's not me," he said.

  "What?"

  "That you're going to kill. Assassins are hot, by the way."

  With that he closed the door, leaving me openmouthed in the taxi. Did he think I was an assassin and I was hot? No way was I Angelina Jolie-hot—she played a badass assassin in that one movie—but did he just imply I was hot? You heard it too, right?

  "Where to ma'am?" the driver asked. I gave him my address and with practiced ease he pulled us out of the carpark. A motorcyclist rode alongside us for a while before turning down a side street. Rick the dick.

  Oh boy, what a night. And Adam? He was still a dead man.

  * * *

  "Urggghhh."

  Morning had broken and I wished I was dead. To think I'd been worried about bruises. What I should have been worried about were my muscles. Turns out I had more muscles than I had given my body credit for. So now, of course, they were making themselves known in the most punishing way.