Red Rocket: A Hockey Love Story

by Miller, Raine

  I do as asked, but thoughts of my night with Scarlett come back to me. I think about texting her but realize I left my phone in my hotel room. I will just imagine this young woman is my Red Rocket. I will keep drinking and allow the haze of alcohol to make me imagine her curves, her long neck, her creamy skin. I will imagine the taste of her warm, wet cunt on my tongue and the way her pussy clenched around my cock as we fucked.

  “There we go,” Trixie says, smiling as she swishes her ass along my lap, finding my cock semi-hard. “I like to see a little guy wake up.”

  “Is not little,” I grumble.

  “Oh, I’ll bet it’s not,” she says, leaning in, speaking quietly. “Maybe you’ll show it to me later? Special price and I’ll suck you dry.”

  Perhaps before the night is over, I may take her up on her offer.

  As the evening goes on, Trixie shows up several times. The more I drink, the more money I shove into her black G-string. Once, my fingers graze her bare pussy and I find her wet. It makes me hard, even though I am still only imagining Scarlett. Even so, this would be easy. I could fuck her and pay her and there would be no question about suitcases and betting. I could close my eyes and think of Scarlett, ramming my cock into this woman with no worry that she could expect a thing from me the following day.

  I drink and drink some more. My teammates, save for the bachelor, drink as well. The party becomes louder. Raunchier. Tyler disappears for a while to the dark corner.

  When he returns, finding Trixie wiggling on my lap, he laughs. “Vik likes anal, kiddo. You into having a big, Russian cock up your door number two?”

  I cringe at this, so crass. Trixie just laughs and says, “Everything for a price.”

  “Oh wait,” Tyler says, eyes bleary with drink, a wide grin on his young face, “I forgot. He likes to lick assholes. Bend over and let him lick your asshole.”

  The other guys hoot and holler, and Trixie, spurred by the attention, turns and says, “I’ll do you one better.”

  “Get out your cameras, gentlemen,” Tyler announces, pulling his phone from his pocket.

  Trixie goes to the bar and grabs a cherry. She pulls down her thong, exposing her ass to everyone in the room. For a sick, short moment, I consider throwing her onto the card table for a hard fuck. I have been thinking about Scarlett incessantly since I arrived. I feel wired with sexual energy and need to release some of it—badly.

  My attention turns back to the stripper, who has now put the stem of the cherry in the crack of her arm bent at the elbow to look like it is up her asshole. The little red fruit hangs out as she invites me to get it out with my mouth.

  “What the hell,” I mumble to myself.

  “Not the weirdest thing I’ve seen in a strip joint,” Georg comments.

  I lean in as Trixie says, “Give it a good lick, stud.”

  I feel very buzzed. In the back of my mind, I feel this is a bad idea, but I push it down, and shove my tongue into the crack of Trixie’s arm, who yelps as I swirl my tongue around before grabbing the cherry with my teeth.

  The guys all erupt in cheers as I chew up the sweet cherry. Trixie pulls her G-string back up and turns, red-cheeked. She leans in and says, “I’d give anything to see what you can do to the real thing. Holy hell, you have a sexy tongue!”

  “That’s going on Snapchat, yo!” Tyler hoots.

  “Wait. What is this snap chat?”

  “Oh, I forgot you don’t do social media.” He pulls up something on his phone and shows me. “I post it, but it goes away after a certain amount of time. No evidence later.”

  “I do not like this,” I say, feeling my face scrunch into some mixture of confusion and concern.

  “Don’t worry,” he says, slapping me on the back. “It’ll be gone by morning, but it’s just too good to keep from the world.”

  I hear Evan say, “Holly will have a fucking stroke if she sees it.”

  “We’re off-season. She should be off-season, too,” Tyler says, pouting.

  “She never takes a break,” he says. “It’s never off-season to Holly Laurent-Kazmeirowicz.”

  Georg snorts at this. “Well, I think I might try that cherry trick on Pam later.”

  Tyler comes up with an idea for a game. He gets several straight-back chairs brought in, and rope. He has me, Georg, and Mikhail each sit in one, and he takes the fourth. We have our hands and feet tied to the chair and the women are supposed to straddle and ride us as hard as they can. The first to get a chair to tip over is the winner and gets a big tip.

  This seems like a stupid game to me, but Evan agrees to film it and referee. I go along, lost in the haze of drink. We are all fully-clothed, so there is no real humping, but the action does feel good. Trixie is too small to make me fall over, though, and it is the dark-haired girl who wins, knocking Georg to his back after some wild and raucous movements.

  He hits the ground and yelps, “Ouch!” before cracking up. I have to admit this is a pretty amusing scene.

  “Funny,” I hear myself say, my lips curling into something of a smirk.

  “Hey—that’s almost an emotion out of Demoskev!” Mikhail yells.

  “Fuck yeah!” Tyler yelps. “Let’s do it again!”

  We play this stupid game for a while longer before finally stumbling out into the night, left to figure out our ways back to the hotel.

  Seventeen

  Scarlett

  DIRTY DOG!!!

  I wake up with a start. I swear I heard…

  Where am I, exactly?

  I look around and see a pair of feet. I’ve fallen asleep on the couch in Pam’s suite. Devon’s freshly pedicured feet are in my face as I sit up, and I see Daisy asleep in a chair. There are empty wine bottles and glasses strewn around amongst snack bags, empty plates, and a half-eaten pizza.

  We had a pretty good night, I guess.

  The sounds that woke me up start again and I look around, realizing Holly and Evan are out on the balcony, seemingly having an argument.

  The sliding door is slightly open, letting their voices in.

  “What the hell were you thinking, Evan?” Holly wails. “Screwing around with nasty strippers?”

  “We were just having a bit of fun, baby. Nothing happened.”

  “There is shit all over social media,” she snaps. “All over. Tyler must have posted fifteen videos to Snap. And there are still images all over every other platform because people screen-shotted stuff. Oh my God, I can’t believe this.”

  “It was funny,” Evan yells, but not in a mean way. In fact, he seems very calm, almost amused by her level of wrath this early in the morning.

  “Did you screw someone else last night?” She breaks into tears.

  Evan lets out a chuckle and pulls her into a hug. He kisses her head, but she pushes him away. “Don’t just laugh at me. Tell me the truth!”

  Pam comes out of the bedroom, tying the belt of a silk robe around her waist before sliding the door farther open and stepping out into the bright, morning sun.

  “Hey, you’re waking up the whole suite,” she says calmly. “What’s going on?”

  “Did you see everything on social media this morning?” Holly asks.

  “No. It’s, like, seven in the morning. I haven’t even looked at my phone yet.”

  Holly shoves her phone in Pam’s face. “Look. Those guys were all up in these strippers’ business last night.”

  “Babe, you’re overreacting,” Evan says calmly.

  “Don’t tell me I’m overreacting,” Holly explodes. “I have to manage these messes. This stuff affects my work. Plus, you’re married to me! You’re only supposed to want me!”

  She starts crying again; her face red and wet with tears. Evan pulls her to him again, wrapping her up into his big body. “Holly, babe, I love you. I don’t want anyone else. I would never sleep with someone else. We were just having a bit of fun.”

  “Holly,” Pam says as she flips through the images on Holly’s phone, “I have to agree with Evan. It
all looks like good fun to me. It was Georg’s bachelor party. They all got wasted and had some tits flashed in their faces. No big deal.”

  “What about that video of Viktor? He had his tongue up some stripper’s ass,” Holly yells back.

  “That’s Viktor.” Pam calmly explains, “Viktor is single. Not married. He can stick his tongue wherever he wants. The worst I see here is some dumb game where Georg got knocked on his head.”

  “Plus,” Evan explains, “that video of Viktor isn’t what you’re thinking it is…”

  “I saw it. He ate a cherry from a stripper’s ass.”

  “Not her arse. It was the fold of her arm making a crease above her elbow. It just looked like her arse. One of Tyler’s absurd pranks. Viktor was pissing drunk, yes, but even he knew where that cherry was…and it definitely wasn’t in her arsehole!” I’ve never seen Evan so defensive before, his slight British accent coming through loud and clear.

  Whatever,” Holly says, fuming. “I’m going home. To our baby. This is embarrassing.”

  Storming back into the suite, Holly grabs her bags before stomping out and letting the door slam behind her. I’m still a little bleary from the bottle-and-a-half of wine I put down on my own last night. The sound of the slamming door hurts my head.

  Pam puts a hand on Evan to hold him back from running after her. They talk quietly, but I can still hear them.

  “I think she’s hormonal,” Pam says.

  “Maybe.” Evan sighs and runs his hands through his hair.

  “Dude, when is the last time she had her period?”

  Evan thinks on this for a second, then his eyes go wide. “Oh my God. You don’t think?”

  Pam shrugs and makes a face. “Well, is it possible?”

  “I mean, yeah…it’s bloody possible…”

  Evan gives Pam a quick hug and runs for the door. I mean runs. He sprints out, yelling Holly’s name, hoping to catch her before she leaves.

  I try not to let Pam see that I’ve witnessed this whole exchange, forcing my eyes shut as a million thoughts run through my head. First, I guess I’ve been unfair to Holly. Things are never perfect for anyone, and she and Evan are obviously having a hard time. This weekend has given me my first glimpse of female friendship in a very long time and I’m sympathetic to Holly, who takes her job so seriously that she lets it seep into her personal life.

  I grab my phone from the coffee table and open up Snapchat, trying to figure out what the big deal is. Some of the videos make me giggle. They are truly stupid, and while there’s definitely some stripper action happening, there’s nothing more than just a bunch of drunk dummies having a good time. Well, except for the aforementioned video of Viktor. It really does look like he licks a stripper’s ass crack. And eats a cherry out of it. There’s no way to tell it’s really her arm like Evan said. It could be her ass.

  It makes me wonder if he gets it on more than I thought. Who knows what else he did off-screen? Maybe he took that red-haired stripper back to his room. Maybe he did the same things to her that he did to me. Maybe he did more? The doubt returns. He never texted me back last night and after seeing this video of him, I certainly know why. He’s probably moved on. I was too crazy, asked too many questions. I let my baggage get in the way of what could have been a good, healthy, Netflix-and-chill relationship.

  And he’s probably not trustworthy for more than that anyway.

  I end up heading up to my own suite to shower. I take a long nap and call in sick for my shift at Tangiers. I never hear from Viktor, which solidifies my assumption. He went home with the stripper. I curse myself. I like him too much and yet I barely know him. I let myself care too much about what he’s doing. I shouldn’t have yelled at him. Shouldn’t have asked so many questions.

  I never should have slept with him in the first place.

  My head is all over the place. I don’t eat all day and by the time I need to get ready for the rehearsal dinner, I’m in a really crappy mood.

  I pull on my little black dress, the one I felt was too immature for this crowd and pull my hair back into its messy bun. I keep my makeup light with a little eyeliner and mascara and light pink lip gloss, and then pull on a pair of sky-high red, patent-leather heels.

  At dinner, I sit far away from Viktor, purposely not looking at him. I flirt openly with Tyler, who is only too happy to flirt right back. It’s all harmless, but I can see Viktor’s lips are set in a deep frown. Deeper than usual, and I think, “Good, serves you right, dickhead.”

  I get a text during dessert.

  Viktor: I got texts. Left phone in room. Did not get until this morning.

  Scarlett: No worries. Those were a mistake.

  I look up and see him staring at me, his gaze intense. He looks back down quickly and types something else on his phone. Immediately, Tyler’s phone buzzes and he looks down at it, letting out a hearty laugh in response.

  “Big guy’s got his panties in a twist. Told me he’d crush my balls if I didn’t stay away from you,” he says, still laughing. “Fucking weirdo.”

  “You love him,” I say. “You two have some sort of bromance or something. It’s like Evan and Georg two-point-oh.”

  He snorts at this. “It’s hard to be friends with a rock.”

  We both giggle and clink our glasses together. He’s right. It is hard to be friends with a rock. Hard to have a relationship with a rock, too.

  Except…that rock seems jealous. Which is kind of good, maybe…right? But why? He did who knows what with a stripper last night. Move. On. Woods.

  Viktor: You look beautiful tonight.

  Viktor: You are glowing. I want to kiss your neck. Badly.

  Doh!

  Nope. He doesn’t just get to melt me with sexy words. No, sir.

  Scarlett: Not working.

  Viktor: The flush on your chest says otherwise.

  Scarlett: It’s just the lighting. Not flushing.

  Viktor: I would bet your sweet cunt is dripping right now.

  Viktor: I want to lap it up. Suck on your clit.

  Scarlett: What is up with you tonight? Dirty Dog!!!

  Viktor: Red Rocket

  Viktor: I think of you always. I thought of you with my cock in my hand last night.

  Scarlett: You mean with your cock buried in a redhead’s ass?

  Scarlett: Yeah, I saw that video.

  Viktor: We should talk.

  I look up and I can feel that my cheeks are heated. My whole body is overheating. I’m so upset with him. Confused by him. I don’t even know what I want from him. But I know his words are turning me on. But I’m also hurt. One rebuttal from me and he slept with someone else. Surely three strikes and he’s out, Scarlett?

  Just as I start to type that, Evan taps his glass with his fork and stands. Everyone’s attention turns to him, where he reaches out and pulls Holly to her feet. She’s cute tonight, wearing a light pink dress, her hair in a long, side ponytail that falls down past her chest. She looks like the goddess she is, and Evan looks at her that way. There is such love on his face that it nearly steals the breath from my lungs. Whatever was bothering them earlier has been worked out, and then some.

  “I know this whole week is all about my good friend Georg, and Holly’s best friend, Pam. And I couldn’t be happier that these two crazy kids found each other. They are a perfect fit. But I also want to tell you all first…Holly is pregnant.”

  There are a lot of surprised noises around the table. Their baby, Danya, isn’t even yet a year old. I have to guess that this second baby wasn’t planned. Wasn’t expected.

  Still, he seems so happy. He’s beaming, nearly in joyful tears as he pulls her to him, kissing her deeply.

  “Geesh, get a room, Kazmeirowicz,” someone yells.

  “Well, shit, at least he can’t get her pregnant,” someone else responds, to resulting laughter around the table.

  Pam and Georg get up and give them both hugs. I hear Pam say, “I friggin’ knew it.”

  “Knew w
hat?” Holly asks.

  “Knew you had a bun in the oven,” Pam answers. “You’re so controlled most of the time, but you’ve been a total roller coaster lately.”

  Holly just grunts in response, rolling her eyes. She looks at Evan, who winks and kisses her again. I see her nipples harden beneath the sheer fabric of her dress and I can’t help but think that if a person could get pregnant twice at the same time, tonight might be the night.

  Viktor stares at me through this whole, crazy scene. I feel his eyes on me, more than see them. And it makes my nipples pearl, as well. I want him. I can’t lie about that. It’s the only thing I’m sure of right now.

  We don’t talk, though. We go through the rehearsal and one more painful flash-mob practice, and then I leave.

  I go up to my room and shut off my phone.

  I go to sleep.

  And I dream.

  In Russian.

  * * *

  The wedding is in just a few hours. Georg and Pam are heading to their destination honeymoon on a private island off the Carolina coast this evening. Georg’s whole family will be joining them in a week or so all the way from Russia since they couldn’t get here in time for the Vegas nuptials. They will have a second beachside ceremony for their families to witness on the island, which is wonderful. I’m very happy for my friends.

  I get up and shower, then cruise the shops to find something appropriate to wear. I find a cute maxi dress that is almost the same color as my hair. It’s probably too casual, with its deep V neckline and empire waist, but it’s pretty and I think I can dress it up with accessories.

  I dress quickly, adding chunky, gold jewelry and gold sandals. I do dramatic, gold eye makeup that really highlights my green eyes. I leave my hair long and loose and a little wild.

  The effect works. Viktor practically salivates when he sees me, his eyes slowly working the length of me as I stand, watching the short, sweet, and funny marriage of Pam and Georg. I try to focus on the couple. They are so perfect for each other, matching each other’s witty comments, both light and happy and clearly deeply in love. When they kiss, it heats up the room.