In the fast pace of the game I barely grasped that the Swedish player #15 came from behind the goal to the corner, trying to fool the puck past the netminder from there. But the goalie was good as always, getting down fast and stopping the puck, and at that same moment I was there to do my part. The Swede tried to slash around with her stick, but of course the puck would not go anywhere from there. Irritated, the Swedish forward hit the goaltender with her stick, an action which in turn irritated the goalie who rose up to face the attacker. Now the Swede decided to do what she always, in every match, aspired to, and hit our goaltender straight to the face with her fist. The goalie did not hesitate to hit back, and I tried to jab the Swede to make her lose her balance and fall to the ice. The referee skated to us to separate the two fighters from each other. It took a while to bring the mad Swede back to a more stable state of mind, and the referee called for a penalty for both the Swede and the goalie for roughing. After the little scene, our goalie was just laughing, and I was a little confused as to how to feel. For a long time already I had been head over heels in love with the goaltender, so I really did not like watching someone throwing punches at her. On the other hand, the fact that she wasn't afraid to hit back was incredibly sexy to me. You don't often see female ice hockey players fighting like that.
***
The emotion-filled match was over; we had beaten the Swedish team 3-2. I was safe and warm in the dark under a blanket, but not yet asleep, as I heard the door quietly open. I opened my eyes just a tiny bit, and from between my eyelashes I saw a tall, blonde woman stand on the doorway. My heart started to beat more rapidly as the broad-shouldered figure hesitated on the doorway for a good deal of time, but I still remained as though I was asleep. Finally the woman decided that at least it wasn't a good idea to keep loitering there, halfway in my room but still in the corridor, and she stepped in and silently closed the door behind her. For a few minutes that felt like an eternity, she stood there collecting her courage, but when she finally took a step in, she came to my bed in a determined manner.
I was on my back, my hair a mess and lots of it over my eyes, and the first thing she did was to brush a strand of hair away from my face. I couldn't stop a small smile from creeping to my lips, and I opened my eyes to finally see her properly. Those beautiful blue eyes that I had stared at so many times watching replays of our games -- and in those replays, close-ups of her -- were now looking at me as intensely as they eyed the puck in the games. Only the expression was now softer, gentler. She smiled back at me, and without a word she reached down to kiss me. A warm feeling overwhelmed me as I returned the kiss that was gentle, more sweet than passionate. For a while I got lost floating in a different reality altogether.
I returned to Earth as this guest that had crept into my room without an invitation suddenly lifted me up in her arms. I regained my composure and held on to her, hands around her neck, enjoying the absolute power that she was practically oozing as she was so easily lifting me. But she let me down, on my feet beside the bed, and without a blink of an eye drew my t-shirt over my head. Grinning at how I was taken by surprise, she kissed me again, this time demanding and passionate, wrapping her muscular arms around my body. My own hands found her neck underneath her loose ponytail. I did however break the kiss to rid her of her shirt, which she earnestly let me do, but then she took command again and swung me around like a dance partner, pinned me to the wall, kissing me all the more passionately. She didn't even need grave breaks from the kissing to get rid of her bra and sweatpants, thus reducing her state of clothing to an equal level with mine. Her hands were wandering on my body, and at last after long moments of teasing and wandering about she undressed me of the last garment I had, my underpants. She grabbed my wrists and pinned my hands against the wall over my head, and there was a danger that I start to purr in the hands of this strong young woman. She bent down bringing her face only inches away from my ear, and I could feel her breath on my skin as she whispered,
"Occasionally I had a hard time concentrating on the game, because I thought I'd rather be here, fucking you 'til your brain stops functioning."
I took a sharp breath, because I felt her words quite physically somewhere on my lower stomach. Even if I could have been able to come up with something to reply, I was sure I was utterly unable to say a word. And yet, before I even realised I was talking, I said,
"Do it now."
