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Me: Do you like burlesque shows?

Jamie tapped out an erratic rhythm as he waited for Elle to respond. He was in the video room by himself, trying to find a quiet moment after a particularly grueling practice.

Elle: I’ve never been but it could be fun.

Me: Russ said it was actually pretty fun. Like a strip club, only classy.

It was a total shot in the dark to suggest burlesque. But, Russ had sworn up and down it was actually a lot of fun. Low-key. That was one evening’s activities down that would get them out of the house, at least.

Elle: Is it that place over on Gravier? I think I’ve been to that one and you’re right. It’s fun. They tried to hire me, though.

Jamie stifled a groan, mindful of his surroundings. He’d never seen a burlesque show but the thought of Elle doing anything that required her removing her clothes to music was pleasant. Yeah. Pleasant.

Me: Maybe, I’ll have to check.

Me: Anything else we should plan?

Elle: I’ve got some thoughts. Also, what’s the address of the house we’re staying at? Taxis are okay for somethings, but not in the Quarter. I want to make sure you actually get to see something.

He typed in the house address, which he’d somehow managed to memorize in the four days since he’d made the reservation. Jesus. His flight left in nine days. In nine days he’d get himself another hug. And a whole lot more. He felt his skin heat. Not at work, he thought firmly. No more hard-ons at work.

Elle: Well, you know. See something other than me.

He took a deep breath. Only ten days.

Me: That’s the plan

-------

“Hey, Elle, is this Tyler THE Tyler?” Elle looked up from her knitting. Nicole was next to her on her couch, stretching her phone out to be read. It was Facebook. Tyler used his first and middle name on the site and the picture wasn’t particularly clear. If you weren’t friends with him it’d be hard to tell it was THE Tyler Seguin.

“Yeah. That’s him. Why?” She wasn’t overly concerned about Nicole. Tyler guarded his Facebook extremely well. He never read messages from people who weren’t friends.

“Oh, just curious. He’s supposed to be funny. Like, really funny. Strange that you also have a best friend who is the funny one. Just like Jamie Benn.”

Elle rolled her eyes so hard her head physically moved. Nicole had been on a week long campaign to convince Elle that her concerns about falling for a guy half a continent away were unfounded and that Elle should just go for it. She’d made up a flowchart, at work with company materials no less, to show Elle that she and Jamie were compatible in almost every way.

Elle was only 30% creeped out that Nicole’s online sleuthing had uncovered such private information about Jamie. She would almost be surprised if Nicole had told her she’d employed her law firm’s private detective. Almost.

The flow chart had been a work of beauty though. She and Jamie had laughed for a long time over that one. He’d even written a few notes down, his pen scratching in the background of their phone call that night. He was mum when she’d demanded to know what he was recording for posterity.

“I wonder if he puts up celebratory posts on Facebook for hat tricks. I mean, last week’s was the third on the season or something, right?”

Elle snapped out of her reverie. “What? Who are we talking about?”

Nicole drew her name out, sounding just at petulant as she looked. “Elle, come on. We’re talking about Tyler. I’m really just gleeful he’s a perfect counterpart to me for Jamie Benn.” Nicole tilted her head and contemplated her phone for a minute. “Maybe I should have sex with Tyler. That way it’d be easier to get Jamie Benn here. Sort of a buddy trip.” She said it so nonchalantly that Elle didn’t even comprehend the statement for a few seconds.

When it sank in she whacked Nicole with a pillow. “For Christ’s sake Nicole. What the fuck.”

“I’m just saying.” Nicole held an arm up to block the onslaught. “It’d be like a comedy movie. Awesome.”

Elle stood in exasperation, carefully setting her knitting on the coffee table. “You and Tyler would be perfect for each other. Fucking insane, both of you.” She headed to the bathroom and then the kitchen, emptying her bladder then refilling her wine glass. She should start looking at other stuff to do in NOLA. The burlesque had been a great plan. She didn’t really expect to leave the house, at all, but they should have some back-up stuff in case the sex wasn’t an all-the-time thing. Elle sincerely hoped the sex was an all-the-time thing.

She brought the bottle of wine back in the living room, realizing Nicole probably needed a top-off as well. She stopped in the walkway, frowning. “Get the fuck off my phone, Nicole. Jesus. Stop.”

Nicole didn’t even try to look guilty. She grinned and put Elle’s IPhone back on the coffee table. “I left you a present on your background.” She accompanied her statement by standing and making an almost comical mad dash for the door. She must have been bored. Or left something truly awful on her phone.

Elle drained her wine then took another swig straight from the bottle as she picked up her phone. She needed to change her password to something Nicole would never guess. Ever. Unlocking her phone, she was immensely glad that she had just swallowed.

Her lock screen was a picture of Nicole holding her phone up to her face. Nicole’s phone had a picture of Jamie, topless. Nicole had scribbled little hearts all over the picture too. Elle shook her head. Nicole was exasperating at the best of times but she always seemed to have the best of intentions.

-------

Me: I think I can only get away with beignets once. My nutritionist will kill me if I eat more than one.

Elle: Beignets are life.

Elle: You can eat one.

Elle: I’m going to eat like a dozen a day.

Jamie laughed as he read Elle’s chain of texts. She must have an amazing workout regimen to eat like that and still stay in great shape.

Me: Maybe I’ll just watch you then.

A glove hit his head right as he pressed send. Jamie glared up at the usual suspects, finding Segs laughing uproariously with Jordie. They were both already dressed for pre-game skate. “You coming, Chubs, or should we take you off the starting roster?”

He stood, stashing his phone and grabbing his gloves. They were on their last road trip before the break, a fast jaunt to Chicago. One game tonight, the Bruins in Dallas in two days and then freedom. For a whole weekend. A magical weekend. He smiled secretively as he finished pulling his elbow pads on. His jersey followed. His hands smoothed down the star, lingered on the ‘C’ and adjusted the hem. It was game time.

Happy texts were waiting for him from Elle at the end of their win.

Elle: OMFG EAKIN GOT A HATTRICK THAT’S INSANE. AND YOU GOT FIVE POINTS. AHHHHH!!! #ArtRoss

He was grinning like a fool, his team rowdy around him. It felt like everything was aligning perfectly. “Benny! Media!” Coach hollered and Jamie responded immediately, his phone going away again and that goofy smile still on his face through all of the reporter’s questions.

It was hours later when he finally got around to texting Elle back.

Me: I hope it was impressive. I think Segs is jealous of the hatty. He said he was going to get one next game.

He smirked as he thought of the next text.

Me: Or maybe it’ll be me.

-------

Elle checked her bag one more time. She grabbed it from its resting place by the front door and opened it on her couch. She packed light; the weather wouldn’t require warm clothes and she didn’t want to have too much luggage to haul around the city. She had cute dresses, comfy walking shoes, and even a sun hat. She was so ready for a change in locale.

Tucked into her make up bag was also a full box’s worth of condoms. She had some really high hopes.

She glanced at the clock and sighed. It was 8:30 and the puck should have just dropped on the Stars game. It wasn’t showing on TV so she was consoling herself with the end of the Canucks game. They were in Tampa, down three to one, with five minutes left to go in the game. As she repacked her suitcase, she heard the goal horn go off and snapped her head up. Damn. They’d pulled Miller and the Lightning had scored an empty netter. They weren’t going to be happy when they flew back that night.

Her eyes followed the final moments of the game and then she turned the TV off entirely. She wasn’t interested in listening to the post-game. It’d be the same bullshit talking around the failures of the Canucks, just like always. And it would largely be conjecture about player attitudes and a failing staff, just like always. Elle knew these guys. She knew their families. Their joys and their failures. Rarely did they ever deserve the vitriol directed at them by the press.

A part of her was grossly pleased that she didn’t live and work in Toronto. She was quite fond of most of the Maple Leafs; listening to the Toronto press corps tear them apart every time she watched her hometown team would be almost more than she could handle.

Hockey in Canada. Fanatic and opinionated.

Her phone buzzed. The Bruins had just scored.

She set aside her luggage and her phone and went to take a long bath before she had to go to work.

-------

Jamie had a mid-morning flight, planned to land him in NOLA right around lunch time. If everything went according to plan he’d head into the city, scope out the house, pick up some supplies, and be back at Louis Armstrong Airport just in time to greet Elle at the luggage claim. He’d packed light, knowing the weather and his activities planned would demand comfortable walking shoes and shorts more than fancy outfits to dazzle a woman with.

He remembered Elle’s flustered expression when they’d Skyped last week. Their face-to-face interactions over the course of the last four years had always been pre and post-game. He had excellent game days suits but that’s all Elle had seen.

He paused on his way to his garage to look himself up and down in the hallway mirror. He’d picked out a soft white v-neck shirt that hugged his chest but was loose through the stomach. His shorts were the generic stripped chinos that had replaced cargos, much to his consternation. Jamie really liked pockets. The shorts hugged his ass, though, so it was a good trade-off, he thought. He couldn’t wait to see Elle’s face when she sized him up in his everyday clothes.

He couldn’t wait to see Elle in everyday clothes. And get another hug. And other . . . things.

She’d sent him a sizzling selfie early that morning when she’d gotten off work, her blouse half undone and the black satin of her bra peeking out. She’d sent along a short message: wait until you see the bra I have picked out for the flight.

Jamie would be lying if he said he hadn’t kept that message in mind when he’d showered upon waking. He’d jerked off once. As he adjusted the fabric at his crotch he wondered if he shouldn’t do it once more before taking off.

Although he knew it wouldn’t take long; in twelve hours he hoped to have extra hands helping, but he needed to be at the airport in an hour. It would take at least 45 to drive over and park. He spent a quick moment to fix his hair again and headed out.

-------

At 10:45 AM, Elle was so bored and nervous that she was cursing every airline in Vancouver. She’d gotten the earliest flight to New Orleans and she still had almost two hours before it would take off. She’d been up way too early after a way too late night getting the Canucks back stateside but she hadn’t been able to stay asleep.

Her stomach had started doing flips as soon as her eyes had cracked. The feeling had only worsened as she’d drank half a pot of coffee with her breakfast sandwich she’d fetched from Timmy’s. She should have caught a flight to a connecting city after she’d finished last night. She could have red-eyed it to Louisiana and met Jamie when he landed. That brought a smile to his face, imagining his surprise if she’d been there to meet him.

Her phone buzzed, a message from Jamie. He was leaving his house.

She didn’t know whether she wanted to squeal in delight or throw up. She was not supposed to be this jittery woman, so excited about just seeing a man that she wasn’t able to keep her feet still. Jamie just brought it out of her. She reminded herself again that she needed to remain cool and collected, or at least sort of detached emotionally from their rendezvous. She had to. Jamie would make it hard; he was this amazing combination of sweetness and sex appeal. But she couldn’t afford to get so invested that she ditched everything she had. She wasn’t that jittery woman. Seriously.

Maybe she should just stay home.

That thought made her want to puke more than anything.

Her dad’s voice echoed in her head suddenly, “Suck it up, Buttercup.”

She was going to fly to NOLA, give Jamie a huge hug, drag him back to some mysterious house, and fuck his brains out. And then go eat beignets. And then more sex.

Yes. A plan. She could do this.

She just needed it to be time to leave and everything would be good.

Notes