Tied Up In Knots

Duncan protectively ushered me from the building treating me as though I might have been hurt. I explained that it wasn't a big deal I was just stuck in the elevator for a few hours, but the people standing around seemed to be quite upset about it, and it appeared as though it was Duncan that made them that way. Apparently he'd been standing out there for close to two hours instructing them to hurry the fuck up. His large SUV was parked mostly on the sidewalk sandwiched between two elevator company vans. It was a scene that was virtually unheard of in Downtown Chicago. "You drove?" I asked, wondering why he didn't just walk the five or so blocks to the building. "I got your message and I was out at the UC. I came straight here. I was here before the fucking elevator people." I reached for his hand, strange that I felt the need to comfort him when it was me that had spent the better part of the day holed up in a malfunctioning elevator. He smiled at my touch and gripped my hand tightly, glancing over at me. "I was worried about you." I promptly assured him that I was perfectly fine, but I had one lingering thing on my own mind. How could I have let my husband affect me like that again?
 
Duncan escorted me to the bathroom and ran my bath. He'd purchased exotic bubble bath for me in anticipation of our evening together, but apologized about not getting champaign that I asked for. I blushed feeling a bit ashamed at the premise of my request. I gave him a searing kiss, my attempt to make up for being an idiot and letting my husband get to me. While my lips were still attached to him he started peeling my clothes from my body, not shy at all about where he let his hands wander. I was disappointed and so was my body as he pulled away. I gave him a pout, but he just helped me into the bath and promised he'd be back soon. I didn't want him to go, his tender touches and the quiet way he showed how much he cared for me were in direct contrast to the way we normally ravaged each other, and it was making my libido work overtime. I consoled myself with the idea that we had all night and I still had a massage coming to me as I let the sudsy water sooth my skin. I consciously pushed away all thoughts of Patrick reminding myself how lucky I was to have Duncan. How could I have known that that walking into that bar would have brought Duncan and I together like this.
 
****
It was hot even for May, and as I walked down the sidewalk of Downtown Chicago I couldn't help ducking into a little dive bar nestled between the office building where I worked and the palatially impressive Plaza Hotel where Oprah Winfrey housed only her most important guests.  It was 2:00 in the afternoon so the place was virtually empty. I felt a sense of relief knowing that I'd be able to sit and drink alone except for the handful of strangers spread out across the establishment, heads down in their beer and their own sorrows. I took a seat in the far corner at the edge of the bar, and was served a shot of Jack and whatever was on draft by a large Irish man with a red nose. I swallowed the shot the way Patrick had taught me, so the brown liquid didn't burn my mouth. It burned more recalling the fun Adam and Patrick had trying to teach me, the non-drinker, to do shots. It always felt like a frat party with them, but now the memories were almost too painful to bear, even the happy ones.
 
I shut my eyes taking in the events of the last twenty four hours. Last night I watched my husband's hockey team be taken down by the Detroit Red Wings, eliminating the Hawks from the playoffs and catapulting Detroit to the finals. Patrick was so broken. He and his team had worked their fucking asses off to get there. They wanted it so badly. But in the end, it wasn't meant to be. It was a fact that was sure to destroy my happy go lucky husband. I couldn't sleep so I watched the 5AM news as the boys exited the plane they were being filmed. I wanted to call the fucking news station and tell them to back off. Can't they have a moment of peace? I felt for Jonny Toews who was completely devastated, and Adam who would take the loss out on his body by going on a week long drinking binge, Patrick Kane would likely head for Buffalo right away and the comfort of his family. Why the fucking news needed to show their sadness, their heartbreak was beyond me. The camera panned to Patrick, and I burst into tears. The smile he has always worn was gone and he pushed past the others to get out of the view of the pesky reporters. After the anchor woman's announced that the city of Chicago was heartbroken, I'd had enough. I flipped off the TV yelling profanities. I held the phone in my hand for two hours. Two fucking hours I sat there on the edge of the bed, tears streaking my face, deciding what I should do. Do I call him or don't I? I ultimately decided that it would hurt him worse to hear from me. It would just be a reminder of how he failed in another part of his life.
 
With zero hours of sleep under my belt, I made it to work and managed to be semi productive. At noon I stopped to say good bye to Claire, I was on my way to the meeting, the one that would begin the divorce proceedings and end my marriage. She hugged me and apologized in my ear. "I'm sorry you have to go through this baby girl. I really thought you and Patrick would make it." Tears poked the back of my eyes and I scolded her for making me weak. "I'm here for you. Call me tonight and don't you dare come back to the office." Claire was my rock, close enough to me to know how I felt about Patrick, yet with her vast knowledge of divorce from her years of trying cases, she was rational and gave me amazing advice.
 
The meeting with Robert, my new attorney was hard, so hard. Explaining what happened between us, where things fell apart. He was willing to go after Patrick for everything he was worth, I mean we had picture proof after all. That doesn't happen very often. It wasn't that Robert was a sleazy attorney, he was actually anything but. No it was just an easy case. Cut and dry. Anything I wanted was mine. Now there's a consolation for you. I wasn’t going to do that to Patrick, milk him dry because he made an incredibly stupid mistake. How could I do that to someone I loved, someone I still love.
 
I ordered another shot and drank it the second it was put in front of me. The red nosed bartender called me Princess as he warned me that it was pretty strong stuff and walked away. "Fuck off," I said under my breath so that he didn't hear me. I wasn't going to run the risk of pissing him off. He was my best friend at the moment.
 
The meeting was a success, but I think Robert was a bit disappointed at my refusal to "take Patrick down." No matter what he had done to me, even if I knew I'd never love anyone again and risked being alone for the rest of my life, I could never purposely hurt him. Even sitting there at that bar my heart was telling me to go to him and comfort him. My mind won the argument so I sat there alone playing with the empty shot glass, nursing my beer, and  trying not to think about him. I was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol in my system and was startled out of my aloneness when the bartender put another shot and another beer down in front of me. I hadn't ordered them, though I had fully intended on it, and the bartender seemed to be trying to keep me sober. "From the man down there," he said and pointed to the opposite end of the bar where the man with the longish hair and ball cap lifted his own shot glass in a cheers motion and gave me a crooked smile.
 
It would have been so simple if the man was just some guy from Chicago trying to get lucky. I would have thanked him and blown him off. As luck would have it though, he wasn't just some guy. He was a handsome, Canadian, defenseman  that just happened to play on my husbands hockey team. I closed my eyes briefly and with a heavy sigh I lifted the shot glass in a thank you gesture toward Duncan and downed beverage that warmed my insides. I turned my eyes back to the ice cold pilsner glass and ran my finger around the rim. Wondering how God would put me in the same bar as one of my husband's teammates and friends today of all days. I hoped that he had enough to think about that he wouldn't be interested in my problems, and he'd sit down there and give me peace. At least it wasn't Burish, Eager or Ladd. If it was one of them they would have never left me alone. We would talk all fucking night about my failed marriage and their failed attempt to bring home the cup. No I guess if I had to be in the same bar drinking my sorrows away with someone from my husband's team, Duncs was my guy. "Introspective," I used to say to Patrick when I'd describe Duncan. It was like you knew he had a lot going on in there, he just chose not to share it.
 
Maybe it was fifteen minutes later when I noticed Duncan wasn't at the bar anymore. The place was starting to get crowded, and I scanned the room feeling rather bad that I didn't even say a proper hello to him, let alone goodbye. I felt just a tad relieved when I noticed him in the far corner sitting alone in a booth. He was probably just trying to avoid being recognized. I'm not sure why…what the motivating factor was … that propelled me across the floor to his booth. Maybe a proper thank you for the drinks, maybe a hello so he wouldn't think I'd turned into a bitch since my husband and I were split, whatever the reason, I picked up my half empty glass of beer and made my way to his table. "Hey," I said rather softly, but I still managed to startle him from his thoughts as I noticed him jump slightly.
 
"Hey," he said back a small sincere smile came to his face and he stood up like a gentlemen greeting a lady.
 
"I just wanted to say thanks." I held up the beer to clarify my gratitude.
 
His smile remained, as he completely blew it off as no big deal.
 
"OK then. I'm just gonna get back…" I said awkwardly not really ending my sentence.
 
"No." I looked up and met his eyes with a confused look. "I mean stay. Have a drink with me."
 
I didn't really want that, or maybe I did. I don't really know now. I actually meant to decline his offer, but somehow I ended up sliding into the booth beside him. Duncan motioned to the bartender who quickly served us our drinks and rolled his eyes at us, probably thinking that Duncan had scored way too easily by simply buying me a drink. We clinked shot glasses and drank quickly both turning them over on the table. It was weird at first sitting there with him in silence. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if I should bring up the loss or talk about the weather or just be quiet and let him ponder his own thoughts while I deliberated on my own. 
 
His deep voice interrupted my internal debate. "You Ok Lydia? I mean you don't have to talk about it. I just wondered if you’re doing OK."
 
I appreciated the question and the clarity with which he assured me I didn't have to go into details. Like a simple yes or no would be fine. "You know Duncan, some days are better than others."  He put his hand to my short hair and wound a curl around my ear. It was a strange gesture, not completely out of line, just a tiny bit sexy, yet sweet and comforting.
 
"What about you? Are you OK?"
 
He let out a little laugh and took a long pull from his bottle of beer.  Duncan never came right out and gave an answer, instead he mulled the question around first. This wasn't the first time I'd observed this with him. He had the same routine now matter how simple the question. How's it going Duncan, sent him into his mind searching for a real answer, not the roll off your tongue rhetorical one people expected. It was something I always really liked about him. His pause gave me time to wonder if he was contemplating his feelings or the way he should answer me. "No. I'm not Ok yet." He looked down into my eyes and for the first time I noticed how blue they were. I could imagine women getting lost in them and falling in love all too easy. "Not yet, but I will be," he continued.
 
The alcohol was hitting me and I decided to just put my cards on the table. "You know Duncan, you're here to forget something and I'm here to forget something, and strangely the concept of doing that with you seems more appealing than doing it alone. What do you say we agree to talk about anything and everything as long it's not the reason we walked in that door tonight."
 
He looked back down at me, his mouth cocked into a half smirk. "That's the best fucking idea I've heard in a long time." We both laughed and spent hours downing shots and talking about stupid shit that didn't matter, from the national anthems of Canada and the US to the similarities and differences of growing up in Winnipeg vs Pittsburgh. We fought over whether Sidney Crosby was the better forward or Alex Ovechkin. He tried to pull rank on that one saying that he'd played against them both and was sure it was Ovi. I laughed in his face and told him he'd only played them each like twice so he really doesn't know and clearly Sid is the better player.
 
"You have a thing for forwards huh?"
 
"Watch it Duncan your getting dangerously close to breaking our rule." I put my hand on his chest and jokingly gave him a little push. His chest was solid as a rock and he didn't even budge. His reflexes were fast, too fast for me and my inebriated mind. He pulled my hand from his chest held it in his, running the finger of his other hand over the part of mind that wasn't otherwise occupied.
 
"I just meant that forwards are fine but there's nothing wrong with defensemen either." His fingers stopped moving and his eyes latched on to mine waiting for my reaction. I bit my lip feeling suddenly uncomfortable, but I'd be lying if I said he wasn't causing me tingling sensations in all the right places.
 
"You mean like Kris Letang?" I giggled off to him.
 
"You and those fucking flightless birds." He moved his head closer to me and whispered. "Think Western Conference." His breath on my ear made my back arch and I wasn't successful at hiding that he was causing a rise in me.
 
"Like Chris Pronger Ewww."
 
"Damn Lyd, no not Chris fucking Pronger. Try again."
 
"Dion Phaneuf. Now there's a good defenseman." I was drunk, but I still knew my hockey.
 
His free hand, the one that wasn't holding mine landed on my bare knee just below the hem of my skirt. My breath hitched and my skin tingled beneath his hand. "No not Phaneuf. Go South," he moved his hand up slightly, "and east," and he pushed his hand up a little higher to the inner part of my thigh.
 
My eyes widened in surprise. I wasn't sure if I was comfortable with the little game he was playing, but I didn't feel inclined to stop him. Yet. "Oh like Erik Johnson?"
 
He leaned over so his lips touched my ear. "Wrong Lydia." His hand reached my edge of my panties as he said, "further East." He let his tongue graze my earlobe.
 
I was having trouble with rational thought. "Rick Nash!" I yelled out probably a little too loudly.
 
He let out a little laugh. "Now we both know Rick Nash isn't a defensemen. I'll give you one more try."
 
"RJ Umberger. Fuck. I know. I know he's not a defenseman. I swear I can't think of one Columbus D-man."
 
"Really Lydia. I'm starting to think you want to lose this game." He let his fingers press between my legs over thin material that covered my crotch. "Mmmm. Now I have proof that you want to lose."
 
I wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or even more turned on that he'd made me so wet he could feel me through my panties. I looked up into his eyes. He was so calm, like playing with women like this was something he did everyday. Maybe that was true.  I just couldn't resist and the alcohol helped me make the next play. "Really Duncan. It seems that losing comes with the better prize."
 
"That’s where your wrong. You don't even know what the prize for winning is. It's up to you now. Give me the right answer and I'll give you the prize. Just say it Lydia."
 
If the wrong answer got him to press on my womanhood again, the right answer was something I couldn't even imagine. He was looking at me waiting for an answer. I couldn't think. I didn't want to think. His fingers pressing softly on me was enough to make my eyes roll back in my head. "Duncan Keith." I whispered out.
 
"What's that?"
 
"You Duncan."
 
His mouth moved into a full out smile. He moved in closer again. "Are you sure Lydia. Are you really sure? Is that your final answer?" His fingers pressed into me still on the outside of my panties, but harder this time.
 
"I'm sure. Please Duncan."
 
No time was wasted, he removed his hand causing me a shiver of disappointment, stood up and pulled me from the booth. I didn't know where we were going, but I had a pretty good idea what the goal was and if I'm not mistaken, I had just asked for it. "Joe, put that on my tab," he yelled out over the other bar noise and he pulled me out the door and on to the streets of Chicago. My head was spinning from the massive quantities of liquor I'd consumed over the last three or so hours, and I figured we were going  to his place, but instead he quickly pulled me through the door of the Plaza. "Duncan." I said yanking on his arm.
 
"Do you really want to wait till we get to my place?" I shook my head no hypnotized by him. "Me either," he replied.
 
He pulled me up to the front desk as he requested and paid for a room, held me close to him pressed into him trying to maintain the sexual energy we had between us. Even as drunk as I was I couldn't believe I was doing this, getting a hotel room, a very expensive hotel room with Duncan Keith. I'd been in the locker room. I'd seen him with his shirt off. Oh my God, I'd seen enough of that body to have trouble standing still while he signed his credit card receipt.
 
The elevator doors closed and Duncan's mouth was on mine, in a hard bitey kiss, his hands cupped my ass and kept me held tightly to him. I pulled his ball cap from his head feeling the need to run my fingers through that long beautiful hair of his. His teeth tugged at my lips and he kissed me like he couldn't get enough of me. Maybe he did this all the time, and maybe it was just the liquor, but the way he kissed me, the way he moaned my name, I was convinced that he wanted ME! And not just any woman that happened to walk into that bar tonight. At a time when I'd felt inadequate and even ugly because of my husband's shameless act, an extremely hot, totally sexy man wanted me, and I was going to give him whatever he wanted.
 
We practically fell through the door to the room, not waiting a second to take in the luxurious furnishings, it could have been a flea infested motel and we still would had the same enthusiasm for what was about to happen. There was nothing slow about what happened it was feverish and fast my skirt and heels landed one way, his t-shirt and jeans another. He fumbled with the buttons of my blouse and I could feel him having to hold back from just ripping it down the front. when he finally got it open, he didn't bother taking it off my shoulders. He roughly pulled the cups of my bra down letting my breasts fall out into his hands. He tugged and pulled on my nipples earning a moan as he ravaged my mouth with his tongue, pulling away only to say, "Please tell me your on the pill Lydia cuz I don't have any protection."
 
"I'm on the patch." I gasped out getting some much needed air.
 
"The what?"
 
"It's a birth control patch Duncan. What is this fucking health class? I'm not going to get pregnant."
 
He laughed at me and my foul language before he went back to the job at hand. It was my turn to let him know I was as into this as he was. I willingly and excitedly reached my hand to his boxer briefs, I almost pulled away startled when only partially hard he was already sticking out past the waist band. It made him laugh and my cheeks turn more red than they already were. He stopped the frenzy that we were in for just a second put his hand to my chin lifting it so our eyes came together. "You are an incredibly beautiful woman. Amazing actually. I want this like you can't believe, but I'll never forgive myself if I don't ask first." His breathing was labored and his blue eyes appeared black in the haze of lust that filled the room. "Are you sure you want to do this Lydie?"
 
I was drunk and it was hard to focus, but even in my stupor I was taken back at the sweetness and restraint it took to stop and ask me that question.  I was drunk but my decision was rational "GOD Duncan. Fuck me! Make me forget. Please!" I'd gone from asking for it at the bar to begging. I couldn't take the heat between my legs and if felt like forever since I'd been touched, since someone wanted me as badly as Duncan wanted me.
 
He made quick work of the remaining clothes we had left and he pounded me against the door. It hurt, but all I could do was moan out at his fingers he'd inserted between my legs. "You are so wet. You really do want this. Tell me Lydie, tell me you want this." 
 
"I want it. I want you Duncan." I said the words willingly but they barely came out due the twisting and curling of his fingers. I must have stumbled on the magic words, because he removed his fingers and lifted me. I never had sex like that before, but somehow my legs knew what to do and curled around his waist. He pinned me back against the door holding me there with the utterly amazing strength of his upper body. He positioned himself underneath me and let me slide down on him. He was so big and I'd be lying if I said the pleasure of his thrusts weren't combined with a fair share of pain. But Oh those thrusts. I clung to the muscles of his bare arms as he fucked me the way I asked for it, hard and furious leaving marks on his neck and chest.
 
The first time left us screaming out for each other covered in sweat, but not done with each other by a long shot. The second go round had me clinging for dear life holding the bed post while he worked me from behind. The third time the need for a bed became eminent as I could already barely feel my thighs. It was Duncan's riveting version of the missionary position with one of my legs draped over his should and profanities floating through the room as we tried like gluttons to get enough of each other.
 
I think it was just after the third time, he'd ravished me, after Duncan covered us with the luxurious hotel bedding and I snuggled against his smooth solid chest that I began to sober up. I was completely spent and ready for sleep to overcome me. Duncan's large arms held me close to him, and I couldn't help thinking that this is not how you treat a one night stand. He kissed the top of my head and let his lips linger there. "Oh Lydia," came softly from his lips, "That was better than I had ever imagined it would be." I'm not even sure he meant for me to hear it. They were so soft and deep, but even back then I knew that Duncan Keith never spoke words if he didn't mean them.
 
****
I laid there in my tub of bubbles remembering that night in May, how careless it was to get involved with someone so quickly, someone so closely linked to my husband, but Duncan made me feel like I was the most beautiful, sexy woman in the world, like no one else existed. It was two nights after our first go round when I walked past the same bar. I couldn't help myself, I needed to see if he was there. He looked up from his beer as I came through the door and his smirk told me he'd been waiting for me, hoping I'd show up again. That's what ultimately lead me there to that moment, lying in his bathtub surrounded by bubbles, knowing that when I left the tub he'd have me screaming his name and begging him not to stop his assault on me.  Being with Duncan kept me from drinking binges and sobbing fits on the floor of my bathroom. Though I couldn't profess to know his exact feelings for me, Duncan wasn't much of a talker and we never talked about us, maybe fear of an end kept it that way, but I knew he cared about me. If there was any doubt in my mind it was all erased today.
 
There was a quiet knock on the door and it crept open. "God your beautiful," he said causing my face to bush red. He handed me a glass of red wine in a large balloon shaped glass and held his own tightly to his chest. "Can I get you anything else babe?" he asked sweetly. “You can put that wine down and come over here and give me one of those kisses you're famous for. You know the ones right?"  He smirked, set his glass down and walked toward the tub. I'm not sure what got into me exactly, but as soon as he got close enough I grabbed on to him and pulled him into the tub with me clothes and all. Water splashed and soap suds flew everywhere drenching the floor, but I just held on to him kissing him fiercely and hoping it would wash away any anger he had for being ambushed. He wasn't angry, and if he was, I'd like to be punished like that again.