Saturday, April 24, 2010

77.) Glitter

A break from the tension, in honor of his birthday, as well as tonight's win and advancement to the second round. Bonne Fête, Kristopher.

Soundtrack Song - Beastie Boys, She's Crafty

“I just... I still can’t believe you’re wearing that,” I sighed, rolling my eyes as we got out of the car. I had laughed at her when she put on that ridiculous outfit this morning, especially that tacky shirt, and every time I looked at her since then, I just had to repeat my disbelief that she’d actually go out in public while wearing it. I was almost ashamed to be seen with her.

“Well, believe it, mister! Because I am wearing it, and I look pretty damn good, if I do say so myself,” she quipped, flipping her hair over her shoulder with just enough attitude to tell me that she was playing around but still a tiny bit serious.

“But it’s so... patriotic,” I told her, shaking my head as we made our way up to Staalsy’s front door.

“You say that like love for my country is a bad thing. You play in the good ole U S of A, so don’t disrespect it, ya fool!”

I knocked on the front door but turned the knob to let us in without waiting for someone to greet us. We were expected, and it looked like a lot of the other guests were already here and inside. Holding the door open for her, I motioned for Jo to walk in ahead of me. She did so smugly, her nose high in the air as she carried in the cheese and meat tray she insisted on bringing.

I couldn’t resist the urge to tease her some more. “Yeah, but... you know you’re going to lose, right? I mean, I’m all for supporting your country, being proud of where you come from... but I just don’t want to see your hopes and dreams get squashed when the Canadian team steam-rolls the Americans. Really, you guys don’t have a chance against us, and I don’t want you to drown me in your tears when you’re a sore loser.”

Jo scoffed, squinting her eyes at me with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Might I remind you, Mr. Letang, that the U.S. team is currently undefeated? And, might I also remind you that your precious Canadian team is not? And while I’m at it, might I add that the one team that beat the Canadians during the round robin was the Americans. So if I were you, I wouldn’t be so damn cocky.”

“You tell ’im, Jo!” Goligoski called from the other room, walking in to join us in the foyer. “God, I’m so sick of all these Canadian braggarts. I can’t wait for the U.S. to win so I can laugh in their faces. Man, I love a good underdog story.”

Heather and Jordan walked in; the former took the tray from Jo, and the latter loudly disagreed. “The Americans are not underdogs. Your team consists of professional NHLers, just like the Canadian team does. You’re not underdogs.”

“Um, sorry to break it to you, Jord-o, but yes we are,” Jo countered. “We’re underdogs because everyone has been saying since the summer Olympic camps about how the gold medal game was going to be played between the Canadians and the Russians. Never was there mention about the U.S., except that maybe we’d get bronze. But the Canadians and Russians both blew it, and the Americans have taken this tournament by storm!”

That comment earned a scowl from everyone in the room, except for Goose, who high-fived Jo. I shook my head and took off my jacket.

“Exactly,” Gogo said, throwing in his two cents. “We weren’t supposed to make it this far, but we did. We beat the Canadians once already, and we’re gonna do it again!”

Jo slipped out of her puffy black ski jacket, and I shook my head again. It almost hurt to look at her. She’d stayed up late the night before, making that damn shirt. She had put so much work into it, and that’s why I had such pleasure in ragging her about it. It had started out as one of my plain white tee shirts, but now it was utterly ruined. She’d decorated it with Sharpie markers, writing Orpik’s name and number across the back like a jersey. Her left sleeve was decorated with blue stars, and the right with red stripes. Worst of all was the front, though. USA was spelled out across her chest in obnoxious glitter: the U was red, the S was silver, and the A was blue.

Add that shirt to navy blue sweatpants and red, white, and blue striped knee socks, and it was seriously the most horrendous outfit I’d ever seen anyone wear. Perhaps that was my own patriotic bias talking, but it almost hurt to look at her.

Staalsy groaned and held his hand up in front of his eyes, like he was blinded by her horribly tacky shirt. “Jesus Christ, it’s painful to behold. Tanger, how could you let your woman wear that?”

“Oh please,” Jo huffed. “Like Kris has any say in what I wear.”

“He should,” Staalsy laughed. “I shouldn’t even let you in my house wearing that. God, it looks like something Talbo would wear.”

Mon Dieu, even I would not wear something like that,” Max commented, meeting us in the foyer. Everyone was starting to congregate here, and it was getting crowded and loud.

“Oh, Jesus. You guys are just taking your nervousness about the game out on my shirt,” Jo cracked. “I know you’re really all secretly jealous and you all want one.”

“Ugh, please,” TK groaned, he and Kelsey appearing behind Talbot. “Tanger, dude, you shouldn’t have let her leave your place looking like that.”

Jo crossed her arms over her chest, some of the glitter falling off onto her skin. That glitter was all over our apartment, all over my car, and now it was going to be all over Staal’s house. She was leaving a trail of it wherever she went. “And was Kelsey’s outfit ‘approved’ before you ‘let’ her leave your place today?” Jo bit out at him.

They spoke at the same time; Kelsey said, “No,” while TK replied, “Yes.” Then Kelsey punched him, sending us all into fits of laughter.

We all dispersed, since the game wasn’t supposed to start for another half an hour or so. Jo teamed up with Goligoski, since they were the only two Americans here watching the game, and bantered back and forth with Max, Jordan, and TK. All the family guys had gotten together at the Guerins’, and all the young guys and their girlfriends (if applicable) gathered here at Staalsy’s. It’s a good thing, too, because their conversation would not have been appropriate for the young kids to overhear. Geno wasn’t coming, even though he and Gonch were back in town. After Russia’s disappointing performance in the Olympics, he was no doubt sulking alone in his house.

While they argued over the depth of Team Canada versus Team USA, I followed Kelsey and Heather into the kitchen to grab something to drink. I grabbed a bottle of water for myself, and then a can of Mountain Dew for Jo.

“We have beer, too,” Heather told me. “You know, in case Jo wants one,” she clarified, knowing that I never drank and never would.

“She doesn’t drink anymore,” I told them, thinking that they should have known that. They were there that morning after the incident out at the club. Heather especially should have known; she was the one I had that whole conversation with.

They looked at each other, like they could psychically communicate with each other. Either they were good enough friends that they already knew what the other was thinking, or it was some kind of girly mental thing. “That’s a little... extreme, dontcha think?”

“Yeah, Kris,” Kelsey added. “I mean, not getting trashed out in public is one thing, but not drinking at all? It’s a little much.”

I shook my head. They didn’t understand; but it’s okay. They didn’t need to understand it. It wasn’t just about what happened at the club. “It’s more than that. She’s got class now, and other stuff to worry about. She’s not that party girl anymore.”

They shrugged and let it slide, so I headed back into the living room where everyone had taken their seats for the game. Jo was sitting on the one couch next to Gronk, and I slid in between her and the arm of the couch. It was crowded seating, so I pulled her into my lap, to make more room for myself, and then handed her the can of soda. “Thanks, babe,” she said, pecking my cheek and popping the top.

“Ugh, you’re so whipped,” Staal told me. TK nodded silently from the other couch, while Goose and Talbot muttered that that’s why they were single, because women were too demanding.

“How is being considerate being ‘whipped’?” Jo countered. “He brought me a fucking can of pop from the kitchen. Not like I made him drive out to the store to buy me one because I didn’t like what you guys had. God, you guys are so macho.”

“Yeah!” Kelsey said, rallying behind Jo as she handed him a bottle of beer. “Geez, Tyler, you should try being more like Kris. Wouldn’t hurt you to bring me a beer every once in a while.”

Tyler’s face turned sour at the comparison, and he glared at me. Jo just giggled and leaned against my chest. I put my hand at her hip, where her leg bent in her sitting position, and held onto my water bottle with the other hand. “I’ve got such a wonderful boyfriend that all the girls are jealous of. I’m so lucky, especially when I’m surrounded by such a group of chumps to see how great you are.” She kissed my cheek again as the guys all groaned and rolled their eyes. She quietly added, “Love ya, babe.”

“Love you, too,” I replied just as softly, pinching her hip gently and reveling in this simple moment.

I had expected things to change between Jo and me over the past couple of days, and it had surprised me when they hadn’t. If anything, we had just gotten closer. It was like we had peeled away our skin and showed each other our insides; there was full acceptance. It was a contented feeling between us, knowing that I could be myself and she wouldn’t judge me or think I was less of a man.

Things weren’t the same yet; we hadn’t had intercourse since I’d found that test. I was a little hurt initially from having to find out that way, but after I had talked to her about my family and my issues with secrets and dishonesty, I knew she wouldn’t keep something like that from me again. But even though Jo had said she was ready to move on, she was still hesitant. I can’t say I blamed her, I guess. After some time passed, we’d be able to be intimate again.

Once or twice, I had caught her crying when she thought she was alone. I would rush over to her, to make sure she was okay, and she would throw her arms around me and bury her face into my shoulder or chest or neck. She’d say something relatively simple like, “I just love you so much that it feels like my chest will explode,” or “I realized I never said ‘thank you’ for telling me everything you did. So thank you.” I wasn’t sure how I felt, knowing that I was the reason for how emotional she was when I had chalked it up to her own emotions about what happened, but at least it wasn’t a bad kind of upset. I think.

When the game began, all the good-natured and lighthearted banter ended. It was intense, and we all were silent for the most part. Almost the entire room erupted in cheers when Toews netted the first goal of the game. Goligoski and Jo both pouted and rolled their eyes. Then, when Perry got the next goal to bring the score up to two-nothing, the jeering started.

“See? It doesn’t matter how the prelim round went,” Staal said to the entire room, but directing his words to the Americans. “The Canadians always come up big when it matters.”

“That’s what she said,” Talbot quipped, making all the Canadians laugh. “They just let the Americans win a game that didn’t matter. Lulled them into a false sense of security. Where’s that great U.S. team now, eh?”

Jo and Gogo both pouted. “Game’s not over yet, boys,” she said. And she was right. When Kesler potted one five minutes later, she pumped her fist so hard that she bounced on top of me uncomfortably. “That’s it! Come on, boys. Let’s make this a real game.”

As the time clock ticked closer to the end of the third we all tensed. Miller was pulled for the empty net and the Americans started laying it all on the line, with nothing left to lose. When Parise scored the tying goal with twenty-some seconds left in the period, Jo shot off my lap and threw her hands in the air, screaming her head off and getting glitter all over the place. “Yes yes yes, motherfucking yes!” she hollered, striding across the room to high-five Gogo again. The rest of us slumped down in our seats, grumbling and cursing Luongo. Overtime in the gold medal game. When one bad bounce, one mistake can define a game and determine the outcome. It’s one thing when the opposing team wins because of a sharp, well-executed play on their part; it’s another thing altogether when you lose because of a misplay. And in sudden death overtime, that’s usually how the goal happens.

While we waited for the OT to start, the make-up of the room began to rearrange. Kelsey and Heather left for the kitchen, declaring that it was too intense for them and they were going to sit in the other room. Jo and Goose moved to the other couch, and the other guys moved over to our side of the room. We were clearly divided with our loyalties.

Jo and I looked at each other from across the room as the guys took the ice for the faceoff of the overtime period. She smiled briefly, letting me know that even though she was desperately pulling for her country to win, she wouldn’t let this come between us. Sure, it was an important game, but it was just a game. After all, it’s not like I was playing for my country; and although she never said it, I knew that Jo was rooting so committedly for the Americans because of James. So I was okay with it.

“I’m so glad my girlfriend’s Canadian,” TK said, out of the blue, from beside me. “I can’t imagine having to go home with that—” he pointed his thumb at Jo and gestured toward her “—once Sid wins this for us.”

“Your almighty captain has been silent these past few games. I wouldn’t put so much faith in him,” she replied, her eyebrow raised in a challenging manner.

The guys looked over at me, obviously wondering if I was going to let her get away with talking like that. I cleared my throat. “Hey, the guy can carry a team on his back when he needs to. I wouldn’t discount him yet.”

“And why should he have to carry such a ‘deep’ Canadian team, eh?” she quipped back. “The U.S. is like a bulldog. They’re fighters. They’ve got just as good of a shot at winning gold as the Canadians do, eh?” I shook my head at her and chuckled, not wanting to get suckered into this. She was baiting me. “If you’re so sure, what do you say we make this interesting?”

I bit her line. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about a little bet?”

“Fine,” I replied, leaning forward in my seat and smiling at her. I could feel all the guys watching us, waiting to see how this would pan out. “Canadians win and that shirt comes off. I get to burn it.”

“Fine. Americans win and you have to wear this shirt to practice tomorrow,” she quickly responded, tugging gently on her shirt and more glitter falling off it. Those were some pretty high stakes, because I knew that glitter would rub off on me and not come off. I couldn’t imagine having to wear that—the teasing by the guys would be relentless. But I couldn’t back down. I nodded, and she smiled as she nestled back into the couch; both of us so confident in our respective team to win the bet for us.

Scoring chances were exchanged, but when Sid shot the puck at 7:40 of the overtime period, we were all on our feet. Beer and popcorn were spilled on the floor as we jumped up and shouted. We were all excited for Canada to win gold in Vancouver, but it meant a little something more to see our captain be the one to win it. For the first few moments, I forgot all about Jo and her loss. That is, until the guys pointed at her and started chanting, “Take! It! Off! Take! It! Off!”

The two Americans looked so incredibly dejected as they slumped on the couch. Goli’s arms were crossed in front of him as he frowned, and Jo was glaring at the guys that were all smirking back at her. “Y’all are assholes,” she muttered, shaking her head at them and continuing to pout.

“What a sore loser,” Talbot taunted her.

“What was that said about a Cinderella story? Looks like good ole Cinderelly got clubbed upside the head with her own glass shoe,” Staal laughed, holding his sides as he killed himself over his own lame joke.

“Such assholes,” she repeated.

“Yeah, but at least you only live with one,” Goligoski grunted. “I’m gonna have to listen to this at practice all fuckin’ week if not the rest of the season.”

“Take! It! Off!” they shouted again, ganging up on Jo.

She sighed but stood up and reached for the hem of the tee shirt, giving the appearance that she was willing to oblige them. That’s when I stepped in and walked over to her, placing my hands on her arms to get her to stop. I knew she wouldn’t really do it, that she was just waiting for me to intervene. “Uh uh. Not here. Not now.” The guys all groaned, saying how it wasn’t fair; but no way in hell would I let her fulfill her end of the bet in the middle of Staalsy’s living room in front of most of my friends on the team. “I’m the one who made the bet. Get over it,” I told them.

“Assholes,” she said. “If the Americans would have won, I would’ve celebrated, but I wouldn’t have rubbed it in your faces like that. And then you wanted to see my tits on top of that? Wow.”

I could see she was bummed, so I tucked away my sense of pride and put my arm around her shoulders. “All right, the fun is over,” I announced to my teammates. Then I said to Jo, “Let’s go home.”

The guys put up a fuss about going out and celebrating, but I knew that that wasn’t on my agenda. Jo wouldn’t want to go out now, and I didn’t feel like being the designated driver while they let loose and rejoiced in our country’s victory.

Jo was quiet as I drove back to our apartment. “You okay?” I asked her, pulling the car onto our street. “Or are you taking this kinda hard?”

“No, I’m fine. I know one of us had to lose. I just didn’t want it to be me,” she sighed playfully, casting a smile in my direction. “I get really proud of American players, because we’re not expected to be as good as Canadians, you know? Hockey is so overlooked, even in Pittsburgh, where we have a great professional team. Like, did you know that I went to school with people who didn’t even know we had a varsity team? It was still all about the football team. I’m proud of my countrymen and their performance today, even if they only won silver.”

I kept my mouth shut about how a team wins bronze or gold; a team loses the gold medal to “earn” silver. That was my experience as a player in international competition, though, that taught me that rationale. So I nodded as I parked the car, not wanting to ruin her mood.

When we got inside, I hung up my jacket and rubbed my hands together, trying to appear devious. “I can’t wait to start the fire to burn that shirt. I’m going to have nightmares about glitter tonight.”

Jo giggled at my antics and exaggeration, sitting on the couch and flipping open the cover of her laptop. She began to fiddle around on it as I stared at her. “What are you doing?” I asked her. “Take that tacky thing off. A deal’s a deal, and I won our bet.”

“Ugh, patience,” she scolded, setting her computer down on the coffee table with her iTunes open. “Have a seat, Mr. Letang. The show’s about to begin.”

“What are you talking about?” Even though I didn’t know what was going on, I sat on the couch like she had commanded, watching as she stood in front of me but out of reach. Beastie Boys began to blare from her tiny computer speakers. “What are you doing?”

“How do you expect me to get naked for you without music? But you should know there’s one rule here at Candy’s House of Fun, Mr. Letang,” she teased, pointing a warning finger at me before she leaned down and caressed my cheek with that same finger. “No touching the dancers.”

I watched as she backed away from me, swaying her hips in time to the music and preparing myself for the show she was going to put on for me. For a moment, I thought about telling her that our bet only involved taking off her shirt... but if she was going to strip for me, well, then I was going to let her.

Welllll this girl came up to me, she says she’s new in town....

It didn’t take her long to shed the shirt, glitter flying everywhere. She was wearing her white, lacy bra. I know a lot of guys think black or red is sexiest, but there was something about the complexion of her skin against the angelic white that set my body on fire. Not to mention that it was skimpy and see through, and I knew there was a matching white thong to the set. I was anxious to see if she was wearing it, too.

Her body sparkled with flecks of red, blue, and silver as she ran her hands up and down her body, leaning over and giving me a great view of her cleavage. I licked my lips as she moved between my legs and wriggled her body for me as a part of her striptease. I reached out for her, but she nudged my shoulder. “Uh uh, no touching. Candy’s rules.”

“Where is this ‘Candy’?” I asked, playing along with her little game. “I may have to complain.”

“Don’t argue with me. I’m just a dancer doing my job, trying to please the client.”

I grabbed the drawstring hanging from her sweatpants and yanked, loosening the waist. I almost didn’t recognize my own voice as I ordered her around, “Then please me, Miss Glitter.”

Jo smiled at me as backed up again and completely untied the knot below her navel. Then she turned her back to me and looked over her right shoulder as she pushed the waistband slowly over her hips and revealed that yes, she was, in fact, wearing that lacy, barely-there thong. I felt the blood in my body rush to my groin, my dick throbbing and hardening as she bent over at the waist until her pants were at her ankles. Then she stood up straight, stepped out of the sweats, and kicked them to the side.

My eyes raked over her body, following the lines of her legs from her striped knee socks up to where her thighs swelled into her ass, and then observing how her shape cinched inwardly from her hips to form her waist. She looked over her left shoulder next as she reached behind her back and unclasped her white bra. Slowly, she pushed one strap over her shoulder before she repeated that action with the other. It was nothing short of torture as she completely removed the thin, flimsy material but kept her back turned to me. Jo swiveled her hips and mouthed along to the words of the song as she tossed her bra over her head like a bridal bouquet. It would have smacked me in the face if I hadn’t’ve caught it.

Now I like nothing better than a pretty girl smile, and I haven't seen a smile that pretty in a while.

When she finally spun around, her arm was draped across her front, cradling and hiding her breasts from me. I groaned, wanting to see her body. See all of it. Jo stepped closer to me again, moving between my legs to give me a lap dance. Jo started by grinding her butt in my lap, but then she turned and straddled one of my legs. I could feel the heat emanating off her body, and it drove me nuts. Grabbing a hold of the backs of her thighs, I pulled her toward me suddenly, which knocked her off balance. She immediately reached for my shoulders with both hands to steady herself, giggling and inadvertently making her pert, round breasts bounce close to my face.

“Mr. Letang!” She feigned disgust. “How many times do I have to remind you not to touch me? I am not a piece of meat!”

“But I’m a paying customer,” I growled ferally, continuing with her little charade but unable to hold back any longer. We hadn’t made love in over a week—not since that night at the hotel in Shippagan. Sure, we’d done other stuff, but that never quite extinguished the fire of desire in me like having full-on intercourse. She was teasing me, and I couldn’t resist anymore. I wanted her. Badly.

“I believe that lap dance was on the house,” she quipped, sucking her breath between her teeth as my mouth latched onto her right nipple and worked on it.

I hugged her tightly in my arms and held her against me as I stood, so once I was off the couch she could wrap her legs around my hips. Her hands were in my hair at the base of my skull, and I cupped her ass as I carried her into the bedroom. “What will it take to get a private dance in a back room, hmm?” Dropping her on the bed, I watched as she bounced on the mattress. I hurriedly pulled my shirt over my head and made quick work of dropping my pants and boxers.

“I guess I could make an exception for you,” she said huskily, spreading her legs and stretching her arms above her head, looking every bit like my own personal Aphrodite. She was hot for me, too; I could tell by the wetness visibly seeping through the lace of her thong.

I fell on the portion of the bed between her legs and reached over her body for the stash of condoms on the nightstand, impatient to get inside of her, to feel her surround me, to be one with her again after a long span of eleven days. Once my hand grabbed a foil wrapper, I rocked back onto my knees and began to tear it open with fumbling, impatient hands.

Looking up from what I was doing, I glanced down at Jo. As much as I needed this, I had to make sure that she was okay with it. We’d tip-toed around this issue since I found about the almost-pregnancy, and I always assumed that she’d let me know when she was ready again. I sure as hell was feeling ready. By the hooded look she gave me, I thought she was now, too. But still, I waited for her to nod and give me the go-ahead before I rolled the condom down onto my aching dick.

With one more swift movement, I yanked down the white lace from the juncture of her legs. Eagerness got the best of me, though, and her underwear didn’t get past her knees before I leaned back over her and sunk into her warm, awaiting body.


  1. Whew, I was worried that Mariah Carey was going to come on the scene. I personally have a soft spot for glitter and bedazzlers, but they're not for everyone.

    Anytime that Jo and Kris get together is always fantastic and pleasure is always a very nice (birthday) present.

  2. What a sweet way to remind me of this historical game! And I adored her outfit, she's got nerve and personality, I just love Jo so much.

    "She sighed but stood up and reached for the hem of the tee shirt, giving the appearance that she was willing to oblige them. That’s when I stepped in and walked over to her, placing my hands on her arms to get her to stop. I knew she wouldn’t really do it, that she was just waiting for me to intervene."
    *Wow, that shows how much complicity they share...

    And the end... So nicely described, you are as creative as Jo I must say!

  3. Love love love it. After the recent emotion of the last two days this reaffirmed their relationship. Perfection.

  4. jxshjfhjakjfvhja LOVE

    This was pretty spectacular. I adored the little banter between all of them regarding the gold medal game. It still stings that America lost, but I loved the cute little spin you put on all of it, keeping it nice and light(:

    And the end? HOT HOT HOT ;P

  5. Too cute! I loved all the banter about the game and how she and Alex ended up sitting together. I would have loved to see Kris in the glitter shirt at practice.

    I like how Jo stands up for herself.
    **“And was Kelsey’s outfit ‘approved’ before you ‘let’ her leave your place today?” Jo bit out at him.**
    It seems a good time was had by all at Candy's House of Fun!