Complications on Ice - S.R. Grey

by Grey, S. R.

  “Things are in motion,” I sang out to Clownie. “I’m meeting Clarisse in an hour. Wish me luck. Let’s hope she doesn’t think I’m completely crazy once I tell her my plan. And let’s pray she’s a good sport about it.”

  “Glug, glug, glug,” Clownie replied, blowing bubbles.

  Chuckling at my fish friend, I scampered upstairs and placed the puck bunny directory back where I’d found it.

  An hour later, I was at the mall and ready to meet Clarisse. I was thrilled to see she’d not backed out. She was at the food court, as planned. I spotted her right away at a corner table, sucking down a bright pink frappuccino.

  She really was the perfect temptation for Benny. Her sexed-up look was just what was needed. Her blown-out, platinum hair and massive boobs, all on full display in a barely-there silky halter dress, were perfect.

  I was nearly at her table when I looked down at my own chest and sighed. Benny was definitely a boob man. I had pretty big breasts, but Fake Boobs had me beat by a mile, or at least by a cup size.

  When I reached the table, I introduced myself.

  Clarisse kicked things off by apologizing for her behavior at the club, which I viewed as a good start.

  “I was kind of drunk,” she explained. “I didn’t mean to be so bitchy to you.”

  “It’s all right,” I replied.

  When I sat down across from her, she asked, “So why exactly am I here? What’s this plan of yours that involves Benny? And, like I said on the phone, how do I fit into it?”

  I was surprised she hadn’t yet asked how I’d obtained her phone number. I guess she didn’t care. And she sure seemed intrigued when I detailed my plan to her. I was certain to provide lots of details, so there’d be no miscommunications.

  When I finished, I said, “So are you in?”

  “Maybe…” She lifted her hand and peered down at her long, talon-like nails. “Depends on what’s in it for me.”

  “Um, what do you mean?”

  “Well, I’m not going along with a plan like that for nothing.”

  “Okay. What do you want?” I queried.

  She tapped a bloodred nail to her chin and said, “If you promise to introduce me to a different Wolves player, I’m in. I’ll do whatever you want then.”

  Oh, boy.

  Her and the hockey players, she was worse than me.

  But I needed her cooperation.

  So I pondered, and the first player I came up with was Benny’s good friend.

  “Dylan Culderway,” I exclaimed. “He’s available from what I hear.”

  She liked the idea of Dylan, but then I panicked. I wasn’t so sure he’d go for someone like her. I didn’t know Dylan that well, but he seemed like a serious kind of guy. And Clarisse was anything but serious.

  “Maybe Dylan’s not such a good choice,” I said, backtracking. “Let me think of someone else.”

  Too late, Clarisse was dead set on Dylan.

  “I don’t want anyone else,” she whined. “Dylan Culderway is super hot. Plus…” She leaned across the table and whispered, “Defensemen, for some reason, are usually just so big.”

  She winked, and I had to ask, “You mean big, as in the overall build department?”

  “Among other things,” she murmured, sitting back.

  Huh, interesting.

  I was intrigued, but I was only into Benny. So I dropped the subject and got back to why we were meeting.

  “We’re good?” I said. “With the plan, that is.”

  “Sure. I’m good with it all. You want me to meet you in the mall parking lot this Tuesday, right?”

  “Yes, this Tuesday. That’s the day Benny returns.”

  With the details finalized for my test for Benny, I wrapped things up with Clarisse. She got up and left shortly thereafter, slurping on her pink frap.

  I sat there alone in the food court, hoping like hell Benny would pass the upcoming test.

  I was hoping even more that he wouldn’t end up hating me for coming up with a test of his loyalty in the first place.

  Surprise!

  Tuesday was the craziest day. We got back to Las Vegas and Dylan’s car wouldn’t start. It was a brand-new Ferrari, so go figure.

  I stayed with him in the team parking lot at the airport till the service guy arrived, along with a flatbed tow truck. That didn’t bode well for the fate of the car. Sure enough, the Ferrari needed more than what could be done by the service person on-site.

  Since Dylan had no car to drive home, I offered him a ride.

  “Thanks, man,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem,” I assured him.

  We got in my Porsche—for which, as so eloquently stated in that cinematic classic Risky Business, there is no substitute.

  Dylan, like he’d read my mind, remarked, “I should’ve bought one of these.”

  “You should’ve,” I agreed.

  My teammate lived on the opposite side of town, so I headed in that direction. I also soon learned he lived in the sugar-laden section of Las Vegas. Jesus. I swear we must’ve passed five donut shops before reaching his neighborhood.

  I could’ve killed for a donut by then. I’d been successfully abstaining, but this level of temptation was just too much. I was about to cave.

  I knew what I needed—my crutch, the baby pacifier. I could then stay strong in the face of what felt like a concerted effort by the donut gods to tempt me.

  Should I take out my little blue helper?

  I glanced over at Dylan. He seemed lost in thought, tapping along to a song that had just come on the radio. I doubted he’d notice, or even care, if I popped the pacifier into my mouth.

  During our road game stint, I’d been extremely careful about keeping my hunger helper out of sight. But Dylan wasn’t like a lot of the other guys. He stayed out of people’s business—unless, of course, as I had done in Calgary, you asked him for his opinion.

  So, feeling at ease, I went ahead and retrieved the pacifier from the console and popped it in my mouth.

  Ahh, that’s so much better.

  I immediately relaxed. These things really were soothing as fuck. No wonder babies liked them so much.

  I was wrong about Dylan, though. He started staring over at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “What the fuck is that thing in your mouth?” he asked. “Is that a fucking baby pacifier?”

  “Yeth,” I garbled from around the rubbery nub.

  He shook his head. “You, my man, have lost it.”

  I popped the pacifier out of my mouth. “Aw, fuck.”

  Tossing the damn thing back into the console, I tried to explain. “Look, I know this sounds weird, but it’s an integral part of this new behavioral modification plan I’m trying, some new baby food diet craze.”

  “Baby food diet craze?” He appeared mystified, what with his crinkled brow and all.

  “Yes,” I stated confidently, “the pacifier works with this new baby food diet.”

  “Hmm, I’ve never heard of any baby food diet. And I’ve definitely never heard of a baby pacifier being part of any sort of behavioral modification regimen.”

  “I’m assuming that’s because it’s new,” I declared. “I don’t know, maybe you just missed this one.”

  I felt pretty smug. I was on the cutting edge of diet and fitness, thanks to Eliza.

  But then I wasn’t so sure when Dylan, sounding warier than ever, said, “Exactly what kinds of baby food are you supposed to eat on this so-called diet?”

  Feeling less and less confident that Eliza’s plan was legit, I softly replied, “I’m not doing that part of the plan, but I know for sure that pureed sweet potatoes are part of it.”

  “I don’t know, Perry. Sounds sketchy, if you ask me.”

  Dylan was not only super fit, but he stayed up-to-date on just about every new diet trend and fitness craze out there. I had to admit it was odd he’d not heard of this one.

  Quietly, he asked, “Who told you about
this diet?”

  What the hell, he already knew who I was secretly seeing.

  “Eliza,” I said.

  He shot me a funny look. “You sure she’s not just yanking your chain? You said she was mad that you couldn’t remember that puck bunny you fucked. Maybe this is her idea of payback.”

  I thought about it, but concluded, “No, I don’t think so. She told me about the diet before we ran into that chick at the club.”

  “Maybe she has a weird sense of humor, then?”

  Again, I had to disagree. “No. She’s a quirky girl, but not in that way. She’s, like, super honest, man.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He took out his phone and started googling.

  “You that suspicious?”

  “Yep.”

  Sighing, I conceded, “I probably should’ve done that right after she told me about the diet.”

  “No worries. I’m checking on it now.”

  After some clicking and scrolling, Dylan concluded, “Well, my friend, I have some bad news. There’s not a single mention of a diet or fitness regimen, new or otherwise, where baby food or pacifiers are part of the program.”

  “Not one?”

  “None.”

  “Shit.”

  This wasn’t good. It meant one thing and one thing only—Eliza had lied.

  Why would she do that?

  I was so tied up about the prospect of Eliza playing me for a fool that I almost drove past Dylan’s house.

  “Whoa, man, I’m right there,” he said, pointing to his home.

  I dropped him off and turned around, ready to head to my own home.

  By the time I pulled in my driveway, I was muttering to myself, “Google doesn’t know everything.”

  Fuck, I hated this. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t imagine a single reason why Eliza would lie about the diet. On top of that, I was freaking exhausted from the trip. I clearly needed a nap.

  “Yeah, after you get some sleep, you can figure it out,” I assured myself.

  Tired as I was, I ended up lingering downstairs for a few minutes. Only because I had a snack to eat.

  Yeah, you guessed it—I’d gone ahead and picked up a donut on the way home from Dylan’s. Those shops had been calling to me, man.

  I spent the next several minutes savoring bites of chocolate-frosted goodness. After I was done, I sat there on the sofa, watching my fish dart around in the aquarium.

  It appeared Eliza had taken good care of them the past few days. No casualties on her watch. Maybe she wasn’t so mad at me, after all.

  Then I remembered my conversation with Dylan and concluded I was a little pissed at her.

  “I can’t believe she lied about the diet,” I murmured.

  I couldn’t deal with it now, though. I really needed some sleep.

  I was so exhausted that I started discarding my clothes as I trudged up the stairs to my bedroom. By the time I reached my bedroom door, I was down to boxer briefs and nothing else.

  I flipped on the light and… “What the fuck?”

  There was a freaking puck bunny in my bed, naked as a jaybird from what I could see.

  Wait, I knew this one—she was the girl from the club.

  “Surprise, big boy!” she squealed.

  Her tits jiggled as she tossed back the covers to reveal she was indeed completely nude.

  “Come on to bed, Benny,” she purred seductively. “Let Clarisse give you a proper welcome home.”

  Testing, 1-2-3, Testing, 1-2-3

  The original test I’d come up with involved me hiding in Benny’s bedroom closet so I could watch the action go down with my own two eyes.

  Clarisse nixed that idea, claiming it’d be too weird.

  As if entrapping Benny wasn’t bizarre enough?

  I was just happy she was actually going along with the plan so I agreed to wait out in the car.

  After driving Clarisse to Benny’s, I parked about a block away. It was a good spot, an empty lot where someone was building a house. There were a couple of parked construction trucks offering good cover, so I felt confident no one would notice me sitting there. Not that there were a lot of people milling around Benny’s barely built-up neighborhood.

  As I watched Clarisse disappear from view, I finally relaxed.

  But minutes later when Benny’s Porsche came barreling down the road, I tensed back up.

  He was home.

  Clarisse was in the house.

  Game on.

  “Please, God, let him pass this test,” I murmured.

  It had come down to this. Everything regarding where we’d go from here would be decided soon.

  Clarisse was to make her move on Benny, as we planned, and text me his response.

  This is crazy.

  I had left the details of how to accomplish the seduction up to her. But I was having second thoughts. Was that such a good idea? Maybe I should’ve been more specific.

  Oh, well. I could only hope Clarisse didn’t take things too far. Benny was a man, after all, so I prayed she wouldn’t make him an offer he absolutely could not refuse.

  What began as a tiny ping of worry grew to outright panic when fifteen minutes passed and I’d still not received a text.

  What if Benny failed the test?

  Did I trust Clarisse to stop?

  I wasn’t so sure, and awful visions of Benny banging the hell out of her infiltrated my every thought.

  I was up and out of that car in two minutes flat.

  Racing down to the house, I was relieved to find the front door unlocked. Going in, I knew I might find Benny in a compromising position. What killed me was, if I did, I only had myself to blame.

  “What the hell was I thinking?” I lamented to Clownie as I jogged past him.

  He, of course, had no answer. Still, I totally imagined him yelling out, “Told you not to open a can of worms.”

  Worms, fish—oh, he was a funny little guy.

  But what did he know?

  I started upstairs, but soon faltered. “What the hell?”

  There was a trail of discarded clothes—Benny’s clothes—scattered the whole way up.

  Ugh!

  I couldn’t stop now. I had to face whatever nightmare I’d made possible.

  Blowing out a breath, I ascended to whatever hell lay before me. I was sure it was a horrific hell indeed when I reached the top of the stairs and heard voices down the hall. It was Benny and Clarisse.

  I stopped to listen.

  At least there was no grunting and groaning, just the murmur of normal talking. Still, I didn’t like that this talking was occurring behind a closed door.

  The voices continued as I approached. I didn’t bother knocking when I got there, I just barged in.

  Benny was standing off to the side, looking from me to Clarisse, who was in his freaking bed!

  Focusing just on me, he exclaimed, “Eliza, what the ever-loving-fuck are you doing here?”

  I opened my mouth to explain, feeling instantly bad for setting this up. That was when I noticed he had on nothing but boxers.

  That explains the trail of clothes.

  Fuming, I snapped, “Never mind why I’m here. What I’d like to know is why you’re standing there in nothing but boxer briefs.”

  Before he could reply, I turned to Clarisse.

  She was still lounging in his bed. And whoa, wait, where were her clothes? “Why are you naked, too?” I yelled at her.

  “Oh, calm down,” she admonished. “I had to go all in for this to work.”

  “And all in meant taking off all your clothes?” I screamed.

  “Yes, it did. You said it was up to me to figure out how to get the job done. And I did what I had to do. Benny didn’t take the bait, though.” She looked disappointed—bitch! “So nothing happened.”

  I breathed the hugest sigh of relief, but reiterated, “Getting naked should not have been part of the test, Clarisse.”

  “You wanted it to be a test worth tak
ing, right? You said you did.”

  “I did,” I conceded.

  Benny jumped in then. “Hey, what kind of test are we talking about here?”

  Neither Clarisse nor I replied, and after a few seconds it was like it finally hit him that she and I were in on this together.

  “How are you two friends, anyway?” he asked.

  “We’re not friends,” Clarisse replied. “And this test thing was all her idea. She called me and asked for my help. I only agreed to be nice.”

  I coughed and sputtered. “Yeah, right, you agreed because I promised to introduce you to Dylan Culderway.”

  Benny, side-eyeing me, said, “What does he have to do with any of this?”

  “Nothing, nothing at all,” I assured him.

  “Okay, but I still want to know what this test is all about, Eliza.”

  “It’s a long story, Benny.”

  “One I’d like to hear.”

  Helpful—not—Clarisse jumped in then. “Your girlfriend was only trying to find out if you’re a faithful guy, Benny. And good news—you are! For the record, Eliza”—she pinned me with an I-did-what-I-had-to look—“you didn’t mention any specific rules on how to test him.”

  Oh, we were back to that.

  Bristling, I snapped, “I was hoping you’d figure out a way to do it without having to take off all your damn clothes.”

  Benny threw up his hands. “Is anyone going to answer my question? What’s this test you two keep referring to? I want the details.”

  I replied, “Okay, okay. I’ll answer all your questions, I promise.”

  He crossed his arms over his wide, tatted chest, and when I faltered, he said, “I’m waiting.”

  Sighing, I confessed everything, at least, regarding the test.

  “I needed to know if you still had a puck bunny problem, Benny. After that night at the club, I was just so torn. You didn’t even remember you’d fucked Clarisse.” She huffed in the background, and we both ignored her. “You have to realize, as a woman, I needed to know before I moved forward with a guy who’s a player.”

  “Reformed player,” he corrected.

  “Okay, but still. I needed to know.”

  Softening, he said, “I passed, right?”