*****
After they had finished making love, they lay in bed, sweaty, panting, legs and arms intertwined.
Colby turned to Ivanka, brushed a long tangle of blonde hair out of her face, and stared into her golden green eyes.
“You're so beautiful,” he said. “More beautiful than any woman I've ever seen.”
Ivanka ran a finger down his cheek and smiled sadly.
“What's wrong baby?” Colby asked.
Ivanka turned away, covered her mouth, and hid her eyes.
“What's wrong?” Colby asked again.
She completely turned away from him and threw her head down on the bed. She was shaking convulsively, sobbing.
Colby didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Had he said something to offend her?
“Please, tell me what it is,” Colby said.
He felt bad. He still wasn't quite used to this dating arrangement. Dating a woman, who wasn't quite a woman? It was still so strange to him.
For the next ten minutes or so, Colby held Ivanka as she cried, sobbed, cleansed herself. He didn’t badger her with questions. He was doing all that he could do. He was doing exactly what she needed him to do, just being there, being her rock, her emotional ballast, the man to hold her in his strong, powerful alpha arms.
After a while, she’d finally calmed down. She wiped the tears clean from her face, sniffled, laughed and smiled as if she were embarrassed by her inability to control herself.
“I'm sorry,” she said. “It's stupid. But I get like this sometimes. I can't help it.”
“That's okay,” Colby said. “It really is. If you don’t want to talk about it, then we don't have to. That's perfectly fine with me.”
Ivanka sniffled, looked away, looked back at Colby, and then looked away again. Colby had never seen her like this. He was worried. What could possibly be eating at her, gnawing at her soul, keeping her from enjoying this wonderful moment that they’d been experiencing together?
“It's just… this isn’t the first time that I've been with a macho, alpha guy,” Ivanka said. “And it's never worked out before.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Colby said. “I'm not any of those other guys.”
“Well, how long do I have to wait before you introduce me to your friends? To your family?” She asked.
“I don't know,” Colby said, defensively. “We’ve only been seeing each other for a couple months now.”
Ivanka crossed her arms over her chest. She didn't seem convinced by that answer.
Colby had been thrown off guard by the question. He loved spending time with her. He really did. And it went beyond the physical. He was sure that. There was a real connection between them. But introduce her to his friends and family? He definitely wasn’t ready for that. He still had so much to lose if this affair were revealed, if the tabloids got wind of the fact that Colby Matthews, NHL star, leading candidate for the MVP award, was gay. That wouldn't go over well at all.
“I hadn't really thought about that,” Colby said.
“Bullshit,” Ivanka said, throwing off the covers off and getting out of the bed.
As she walked towards Colby’s closet, she crossed her arms over her chest.
Colby couldn't help but admire the bounce of her tits, the jiggle of her ass.
She went to one of Colby's closets and pulled out a robe and slipped into it. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed, lowered her head into her hands.
Oh no, Colby thought. Is she going to start crying again? I don't know if I can handle any more of this emotional shit.
He would’ve never said that out loud, would never have wanted to hurt her, to show that maybe he was getting a bit annoyed, a bit tired of her clinginess. They'd only been together for two months. Why did he have to introduce her to his friends and family?
But he knew that he wasn't quite honest. He did feel somewhat ashamed, worried what family and friends would say about him. He was also worried how quickly the rumors would spread if anyone outside of his close personal circle was to find out.
“How about this?” Colby said. “I'll throw a big party for my friends and family, and you'll be my date.”
“Really?” Ivanka said, her eyes lighting up with excitement and optimism. “When?”
“The day after I win the MVP award,” Colby said.
“The MVP?” Ivanka said. “What does that have to do with us?”
“It's just that I wanted it to be a really big celebration,” Colby said. “Everyone there will be people that have known me for a long time. I'd love to introduce you to them as my new girlfriend.”
Most of what he’d just said was true. But there was one part that he wasn't telling Ivanka, one part that he’d left out of his explanation, and that had to do with the MVP trophy itself. He’d been the front runner all year long. Lately, things that tightened up a bit. But he was still thought to be the favorite because he played in the massive New York market.
He had to win that award. It was something he’d dreamed about all his life. Of course, he’d dreamed about winning the Stanley Cup as well. But individually, he’d always wanted to prove himself as a great scorer. He'd always wanted to win the MVP trophy.
This was the best chance he had yet in his career. It may be years before he had a chance this good before he got this close to the trophy. He didn’t want to take any risks, didn't want to compromise himself in the voting. There was no way he could let this cat out of the bag before the results were made official.
The next day, Colby woke up bright and early, stretched his arms and yawned. His body ached. It would be another long hard day. No, it wouldn't. He smiled. This was the day. He would be crowned MVP. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table, checked his messages. Nothing from the league. Nothing from his agent.
What was going on? They were supposed to call. Wasn't that what happened when you won the MVP? He went into the living room, flicked on the television, turned to Sports Center.
Breaking News: George Simmons Named NHL MVP.
Colby gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath. Then he slammed the remote on the floor. How the fuck did this happen?
*****
Four games into the series with the Bruins and none of the tapes had been released. Everybody could tell that Colby's game was off. The media kept asking him whether or not he was injured. No. He wasn't injured. And even if he were, he wouldn't have used that as an excuse.
The Rangers were down three games to one in the series. They were on the brink of being eliminated from the playoffs. This would be the end of their season.
Colby was tired of worrying about when the videotape would be released, or if any of the videotape footage would be released. He couldn't keep worrying about that anymore. It was destroying his self-confidence, completely eroding any ability that he had to concentrate. If the Rangers lost to the Bruins, he would be at fault. He would never forgive himself.
The night before game five, the decisive game, he made one of the most important decisions of his life.
Just before they fell asleep, Colby turned to Ivanka, took her hand in his and squeeze, staring into her eyes lovingly.
“I want you to come to the game tomorrow,” Colby said. “I want you to sit right behind our bench.”
Ivanka’s eyes opened wide with surprise. “You're serious?” She said. “Wouldn’t I just be a distraction?”
“This whole series I've been distracted,” Colby said. “And it’s because I haven't been true to you. Haven't been true to myself. I don't want to do this any longer. Even if I win, I’d feel like a coward if I didn't have you there at the games with me.
“If you're good enough to lie in my bed then your good enough to come watch me do the thing that I do best.”
“Well, you do a bunch of other things pretty well also,” Ivanka said reaching under the covers and letting her hand slither and slide down Colby's hard chest, resting it on top of his semi-hard cock, giving it a light squeeze.
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They were down three goals to one with 10 minutes to go in the third period.
Colby hadn't been able to focus all game. He kept looking back behind the bench, seeing that empty seat. Where was she? Where the hell was she? The one time he invited her to a game, the one time he really wanted to see her there, to feel her love and support and she hadn't shown up. He had no idea what had gone wrong.
Everything seemed lost.
Bang! Bang! As he sat on the bench, he heard a fist hanging into the glass behind him. He hated when people did that. He turned around, ready to give the fan a telling off, to release all his frustration on the disgruntled customer. What he saw completely changed his mood. It was Ivanka, dressed up in her fur coat, look looking sexy as ever, waving and smiling and trying to tell him that she had some sort of hang up at the club.
Colby felt a surge of adrenaline pass through his body. It had been weeks, maybe months since he’d felt this good with all his equipment on.
“Let's go boys!” He bellowed.
A few of guys looked at each other in surprise. It had been a long time since they heard Colby take the role of the vocal leader, the alpha dog willing to get out in front of the pack.
For the next ten minutes, the Rangers skated as hard as they had all season, fighting for every loose puck, desperate to get back into the game.
Goal! Goal!
Their hard work finally paid off. They scored two quick goals and sent the game into overtime. Sudden Death. First goal wins.
Goal! The Rangers Win! The Rangers Win!
The crowd went crazy. The Rangers won the next two games defeating Boston and moving on to the Stanley Cup finals. They made quick work of the Los Angeles Kings. Four straight wins and they were champions.
Colby had a great series. He felt like he could be MVP. But unfortunately, yet again he didn't win the trophy. This time, it didn't matter.
After the final game of the series, he brought Ivanka back into the team locker room with him. Then he brought her on the championship parade through Manhattan.
It wasn't long before the tabloid seized on the story. The Ranger captain was dating a transsexual? Could that be possible? There was plenty of laughing and giggling and whispering. But in New York the only thing that really mattered, the only thing that counted at the end of the day, was winning. Colby had won. He could date, love, or fuck whomever he damn well pleased.
THE END
Another bonus story is on the next page.
Bonus Story 19 of 24
Sharing Seals
"I can't believe your room looks exactly the same," Kevin said, walking into the small bedroom at the top of the old house and reaching up to tap the bunkbed wall with one palm.
He turned around and tossed his canvas duffel bag to the floor. The clothing inside made a dull thump when it hit the worn, aged wooden boards and the canvas sagged as if it was as tired after their long trip as he was. Patrick stepped in and looked around the space with a nostalgic sparkle in his eye. He sighed, one hand clasped around the woven strap of the identical canvas duffel bag looped over his shoulder and Kevin saw a soft smile touch his best friend's lips.
There were so many memories in that space and they were all reflected in Patrick's gaze as he looked at each piece of furniture, each poster, and each reminder of his younger years throughout the bedroom. It was as if he had never walked out of it six years before when they left together to join the Navy. Now with the years of SEAL training and their first tour behind them, they were finally back in their hometown. Even though they felt completely different, much of what they had seen had proven that nothing had really changed in the little town where they had both grown up.
"It hasn't," Patrick said.
"It's like your parents kept it as a shrine to you."
Patrick laughed and stepped into the room, seemingly broken out of the sentimental spell that had been cast over him by the sight of his childhood bedroom by his best friend's sarcasm. He dropped his bag to the floor beside Kevin's and immediately clambered up the ladder onto the top bunk of his old bunkbeds.
He had never had a sibling that occupied the bottom bunk, but he had asked for the beds when he was six, and, like always, his parents had obliged. When he met Kevin just a few weeks later, it was like he was being given the brother that was supposed to go into that second bed and his instant best friend ended up spending what seemed like just as much time, if not more, in that bottom bunkbed throughout their childhood than he did in his own bed at his home.
"That's fine with me. Maybe that's what made them keep the house rather than selling it when they retired to Florida. They didn't want to interrupt a historical landmark."
Now it was Kevin's turn to laugh and flop onto his back on the lower bunk so that his position mimicked that of his lifelong best friend on the bed above him. He reached up and ran his fingers along the faded marks of the words and drawings that they had made there over the years. It was like looking at a collage of their lives, the handwriting and themes of the sentiments changing and becoming sharper and edgier as the boys grew older and the lines layered on top of the softer, more playful inscriptions of their younger years.
"That's a plausible idea," he said. "But I think it has a whole lot more to do with them wanting you to finally settle down and find some girl to marry and have a horde of little babies with. They figured that if you had a house to live in, you would just have to fill it up with a family or it wouldn't make sense."
"Yeah," Patrick said. "That will definitely be happening some time soon." Kevin heard him give a derisive laugh. "After six years in the Navy, I have no interest in getting tied down. They are just going to have to be happy with me living here with an equally not tied-down roommate for the time being."
"Speaking of which," Kevin said, swinging his legs off of the side of the bed so that he could stand up and grab his bag. "I'm going to go peruse the bedrooms and decide which one is mine."
"Peruse?" Patrick asked with another laugh. "You sure did pick up some fancy words during the tour."
"They sound good to the girls," Kevin told him. "Something about a man in uniform who sounds smart. They love it."
"Yeah, well, that might work for the girls out there, but I wouldn't recommend wandering into the bar tonight wearing your uniform. I think the girls around here are all too used to you to get fooled by that bull."
Kevin shot a glare over his shoulder at Patrick and walked out of the room. He was familiar enough with the rest of the house that he knew where all of the bedrooms were. Now that he was going to be living there with Patrick as adults, though, the space seemed different. He no longer had to think of the big room at the head of the hallway as Patrick's parents' room, or the smaller room between that room and Patrick's as his mother's sewing room. The room that had been Patrick's father's den was now empty except for rows of heavy bookshelves along one wall and a faded globe on the floor. The final bedroom at the opposite end of the hall had acted as the guest room, but as far as Kevin knew, had never had an actual guest. It had been preserved like Patrick's, exactly as it had been when they were children, complete with frilly white comforter set and pillows covered in a spray of miniature purple flowers and delicate green leaves.
*****
Patrick and Kevin spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking the truck that contained Kevin's belongings that they had gotten out of the storage unit where his parents had put them before they moved to another town. The family had never been particularly close, but that had been a difficult blow for Kevin to deal with when he got the letter from his mother informing him that they had sold the house that they had always lived in and were moving three towns over so that his father could be closer to his new job.
It had all sounded so positive and optimistic, but Patrick knew that that wasn't the case and that for the most part, the letter had been a lie. Kevin's family had never owned any of the houses that he lived in when he was growing up. Rather, they bounced around from rental pro
perty to rental property burning bridges with landlords and making more enemies out of their neighbors with their arguments and late night drunken screaming fits than they did friends.
As for leaving so that his father could be closer to his job, Patrick knew that Kevin's father had never been one to be able to maintain a job for more than a year or so and that at last count he had been without a job for more than a year and a half. More likely than him moving to be close to his job was, they had run out of people who were willing to rent to them and were now moving on in hopes of finding somebody who would hire such an undesirable candidate and rent to a couple without checking their rental history or credit.
Patrick had always felt bad for Kevin and the experiences that he had back home with his family, but he also knew that it was those experiences that made his friendship with him even more important. They were the closest of friends that either of them had ever had, and in a way he felt like having Kevin as his best friend gave his parents the second child that they had always desperately wanted, but had never been able to have, and had given Kevin the type of loving, supportive family that he had never been able to experience either. Almost as soon as they met, Kevin became a fixture at the dinner table, on weekend outings, in the yard playing, and even on family vacations. It was only logical that the two of them would decide to join the Navy and go for SEAL status together.
Once they had everything in the house, Patrick and Kevin took showers, got dressed, and headed out to the neighborhood bar where nearly all of the adults in town gathered on weekends. When they were just out of high school, the pair had spent evenings in the bar playing pool and eating the overly greasy food that filled the menu as they tried to stay beyond the 9 PM cut-off for anyone under the age of 21. Eventually they became such fixtures that in the last weeks before they deployed, they spent nearly all of their time at the bar collecting the good will and advice from the friends, family, and neighbors who gathered there to support them.
Alien Romance: Interview with an Alien (Football Paranormal Invasion Abduction Alpha Sci-fi Romance) (Fantasy First New Adult Contact Science Fiction Mystery Sports Alien Short Stories) Page 60