Encounter
I stood by the rink, unsure of how I felt. I came to see the Washington Capitals, yet here I was staring at him. Tristan Jarry, Pittsburgh Penguins goaltender, in all his rival glory. Beautiful were his eyes, sharp were his moves... I watched his body language closely. The way he circled around the net, the way he watched for his opponents, them blue eyes a staggering blue. I watched as Ovechkin went to score, and he blocked it.. I accidentally let out a sigh of relief even shocking my own self. My husband was beside me, his team was always the Pens, He bled the black and yellow through and through, and so naturally he let out a shout with the save.. "YES" , undoubtedly missing my unfortunate reaction to it as well. Thankfully. That shot was the last one of the night for the Capitals, and the final was 5-2, leaving the Pens with the victory. The arena was clearing, and I was dying to pee. I entered the lobby, crowded as it was and was shocked to see him there, signing autographs, sweat still pouring off him. "What?" I mumbled under my breath. "This can't be". My husband would die if he saw me approach Tristan, I'd never live it down for sure... but he'd also love an autograph. So I scanned the area carefully. Good, he must still be in the bathroom himself. I strided up to him, slinking like a cat in heat... ignoring my bladder and waited in line for my turn. When it was , I made close eye contact with him. An undeniable spark coursed through my body and my veins, and ended up being a throb in my clit as his stare bore into mine. "Ummm hi. I'd like an autograph for my husband please" I spit out. He smiled, and I thought I'd crumble right there and die on the spot. "Sure, what's his name? I'll sign it on this hat for him" he replied, grabbing towards the stack of hats on the autograph table. "Uh, Jason". I muttered, scanning the room... making sure he was still not in view. Not only would he not let up on the teasing, but I also wanted this to be a surprise for him. "Jason Chessem" I said.
He leaned down with the marker, "Jason Chessem.... okay here you go" he handed me the hat. And I thanked him and left, before my burning cheeks were a dead giveaway that I had it bad for him.
I fumbled with the hat and then felt a piece of paper beneath it. I took it out. A note? There, in fine ink, was numbers. “Text me when you get more free time away from the husband". I nearly fell backward. I blinked, twice. No way, no fucking way was Tristan fucking Jarry offering a hookup. I smiled down, greeted the husband back from the bathroom, and shoved the note in my pocket, knowing damn well I'd be texting him later.
