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cellythefloshie · 6 months

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;; Mama Bear Dedicated to myself. Because this has been my passion project.

Summary: With her son Parker set to skate in his first NHL game with the Boston Bruins, Katherine Stacy travels to Boston. When her plans are derailed by her ex-husband, Katherine is forced to spend a night on the town alone where she meets Jeremy who is more than willing to show her a good time. Kinks & Tropes: Age Gap (22 v. 40). Divorcee. Alcohol Consumption. One Night Stand. Oral Sex - Fem Receiving. Mirror Reflection. Protected Sex. - If I missed something, yell at me. ABOUT THE OC’s: Katherine: AKA Katie. Face Claim: Bryce Dallas Howard. 40's. Mother of Parker Waylon-Stacy. Parker: Face Claim: N/A. Boston Bruin's Rookie. Dorthey: AKA Dottie. Face Claim: Kate Hudson. Best friend of Katherine. Word Count: 12k+

A/N: Would you believe me if I said that this fic was 4 months in the making? @hagelpoint-3821 and @hockeyboysimagines -- I do not know how you have put up with me teasing this fic for so long. This fic is one that ignited a fire of excitement in me, and to be able to share that excitement with the two of you is something I will always appreciate. You both know that this fic could have easily become a full length novel - and I did have to cut back on this things to assure I could get this out before the new year. I won't have to but you guys with persistent updates about the progress anymore! Thank you so much for your ongoing support and encouragement. With that said, this fic is not going to appeal to everyone. It is unlike anything I have written before, and is unlike anything I have seen in this community before. So please consider liking and relogging if you enjoy, and if doesn't end up being your cup of tea - thank you for giving it a shot. And please note that I did not do a full edit of this fic. I will be editing any mistakes I see upon rereads. I hope you all enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.

As a woman traveling alone, there was one thing Katherine Stacy made sure to do: she created a detailed itinerary. Everything from her flights to hotel check-in times and the sights she was planning to see in the great city of Boston were listed in detail on two neatly organized pages. And she made sure to print 3 copies. One for herself, that she carried in her black Kate Spade purse. One for her ex-husband, Ronnie, who was meant to join her on her trip. And the last, for her best friend, Dottie, who remained back home in Toronto - but was the one person she knew she could count on if something did not go according to plan.

Which was why, as Katie called her from her dimly lit hotel room in the middle of the day - when she was supposed to be touring the Museum of Fine Arts - Dottie answered with such urgency you would have thought her home was on fire. Her mass of blonde curls was the first thing you could see when she answered the video call. They fell into her face that was too close to the screen, her words rushed so close together they slurred into one. “What’sgoingon?Whyisitsodark?Thisisnottheartmuseum.”

Katie propped her phone up against her suitcase, the camera obstructed by the bag’s handle as she rushed to get one of the lights, a string of apologies leaving her lips. When she returned to the end of her bed, she fixed the camera just right before her hands dipped into her bag and she continued to unpack her belongings and store them away in the hotel room’s dresser. It was only then, with her hands busy and a heavy breath rocking her shoulders, that Katie told Dottie why she was calling.

“He brought her.”

That was all Dottie needed to hear for her eyes to be sent wide in disbelief, “He. Did. Not.” Dottie was always nothing short of eccentric and supportive, but that support only had grown stronger since Katie’s divorce. And since Ronnie started dating again.

Not even a year into their separation before their divorce was finalized, he had started dating Monica. A beautiful, blonde, twenty-something, esthetician from Etoboike who had weaseled her way into the Waylon family before Katie could even realize what was happening. Which included joining Ronnie on their trip to Boston. Which was supposed to be just the two of them. One where they were coming together as parents to celebrate the success of their son, Parker Waylon-Stacy, who was set to play his first game in the NHL the next evening.

Worst of all, he hadn’t told her she was coming. Monica had been a nasty surprise when she met him at The Westland for lunch. Katie knew the young woman could see the shock all over her face when she spotted her, and while her attendance was an unpleasant surprise, she had tried to be civil. Yet, Katie could only tolerate so much.

So she canceled their dinner reservations at the Citizen Public House & Oyster Bar and did not make her planned trip to the art museum. Instead, she had taken a taxi back to the Courtyard by Marriott where she was staying for her short visit in Boston. What she was going to do now, she didn’t know, but Katie knew she needed to call Dottie.

“I knew you should have just come with me Dot-”

Dottie cut in, her words strained by her frustration. “I would have ripped his testicles off with my bare hands-”

“Dot!”

“What?” Dottie was taken back, her brows furrowed.

“He’s allowed to be dating, we aren’t married.” She and Ronnie hadn’t been together since their son had turned sixteen. That was almost two years ago now, and Katie didn’t miss a single minute of being married to him. She never would.

“But this trip was supposed to be a family trip,” Dottie reminded, her hand coming up to run over her face with a sigh, “for Parker.”

“Well,” Katie chewed at the inside of her cheek, her hand coming up to push her long red hair back out of her face, “he’s marrying her.”

All Katie could hear was a long, low growl of a no, the video call going dark as Dottie either dropped the phone face down onto a surface or accidentally turned her camera off at the shock of the news. When the sight of her returned, her hand was over her mouth, and her eyes were wide.

“You should have seen her ring,” Katie told her, her hands wringing the fabric of one of her blouses in her hands like a wet rag, “it was, wow.”

The band was gold, and the diamond was big. Bigger than what she had on her engagement ring and wedding band combined. It was so big it was almost gaudy and hard to miss. It was eye-catching with every single one of Monica’s movements, and all Katie could think of at the sight of it was: Does Parker know?

It was a question that haunted her as she put down her blouse, pulled her pajamas from the bottom of her bag, and began to undress with little care that Dottie was still on the other end of the call. They had been friends since middle school. There was little Dottie hadn’t seen or didn’t know.

“Whoa, whoa,” Dottie spoke, the shock fading at the sight of Katie stripping out of her jeans, “what are you doing?”

Katie stepped out of her jeans, leaving them in a heap on the floor as she held her satin bottoms in her hand, “Turning in?”

“NO, you aren’t going to let that selfish prick ruin this trip for you,” Dottie spoke in a firm tone, her finger pointing right into the lens of her camera.

“What am I supposed to do, Dottie?” Katie sighed, throwing up her hands in defeat and accidentally throwing her pajamas across the room, “I’m just going to order room service and watch some paper view-”

“No, no. You’re going to go out and enjoy yourself.”

A sigh rocked through Katie’s entire body, her hand falling into her hands as she fought back a frustrated sob. She’s a divorced mother in a city she doesn’t know. Her son was off with his teammates doing god knows what on a team-building outing. Her ex-husband was off celebrating his engagement. And she was alone.

Hot tears pricked at green eyes in the shadow of her hands, but Katie didn’t let them fall. Deep, heavy breaths from years of hiding her frustrations with her husband kept them at bay, but Dottie noticed. She always noticed.

Which was why her voice had softened when she spoke again, “Show me what’s in your suitcase?”

“My suitcase?” Katie croaked out, her hands coming down to rest against the pale freckles skin of her thighs.

“Yes, your suitcase.”

Stepping forward, Katie took her phone in her hold and flipped her camera around for Dottie to see. The suitcase was mostly empty now, save for the jacket she had packed at the bottom. The rest of her clothes she had tucked away in the dresser drawers. She had packed just enough clothes to last the three-day trip. Her main outfit was a pair of jeans, boots, and a t-shirt she planned to wear under a jersey to the hockey game the following night. Everything else was meant to be worn during sightseeing, or on the flight home. And every bit of it was practical.

“No, no, love. Why do you do this to yourself?” Dottie sighed, her shoulder slouching forward. Dottie, herself, was a bit of a fashionista. She always wore the latest trends and was always seen in the brightest colors. Because, well, Dottie liked to be seen. “Where is the sext shit we bought last time we went out?”

“Back home?” Katie spoke in more of a question, her brow raising as if where it was wasn’t already obvious. “I wasn’t coming out here intending to seduce my ex-husband, Dot.”

“You’re in Boston, Katie! A city full of eligible bachelors you can forget about the moment you fly home.”

“Dot-”

“When was the last time you got laid, Katie?”

Her stomach sunk, her mouth going dry at the question. Dottie already knew the answer to that question, but she was trying to use it to motivate her now, even if Katie hated it when she did that.

“You would have heard about it if it happened.”

“You’ve been divorced for over a year, Katie - separated for two. It’s time to ditch the vibrator.”

Katie let out a long, frustrated huff, fighting the urge to toss her phone onto the pillow. She knew exactly where this was going. “I’m not using that stupid dating app-”

Tinder. Bumble. Plenty of Fish. Hinge. If it was a dating app, she was on it, and failing miserably at it. Dottie’s daughter, Megan, had set her up with the accounts. Helped her pick every flattering picture and even wrote her biography to cater to the current dating scene. And it had only led her to two types of people, men just like her husband who were divorced and looking for their next way to mother them, or were young men - too young for her to comfortably consider - with mommy issues. And both had gifted her far too many unsolicited pictures of their cocks.

Just the thought of opening the app made her want to gag.

“Then don’t,” Dottie spoke, her tone assuring and not forceful. “Just do this one thing for yourself. Go buy a nice dress and a pair of underwear that haven’t seen postpartum. Something sexy. Something to make you feel confident, and go out to dinner. Take yourself out. Hell, even if it’s just the hotel bar. Get a drink and try to have a little fun. For me.”

Dottie dipped her chin down and pouted her lips. Growing up, it was always how Dottie had gotten her way, and sometimes it still worked. Just like it had then.

“Fine.”

“Good, now, I gotta go,” she spoke, and her screen was suddenly a rush of color as she was on the move, “The twins have a game tonight.”

Dottie was a mother of three. Megan, 18, the same as Parker, was off at university, but the twins were only 12. And had a very extensive hockey schedule to maintain, which kept Dottie’s schedule busy and her hands full.

“Alright, alright, I won’t keep you,” Katie waved her hand at the phone casually, “Tell Brandon and Brayden Auntie Katie is cheering for them-”

“Don’t think this gets you off the hook,” Dottie added quickly, “I want a selfie of you looking sexy at the bar. Love you. Kisses!”

Shopping alone was something Katie loathed. Nothing ever fit her proportions right, especially after the rollercoaster that was going from a size 2 to pregnant to struggling with her weight postpartum, to a grueling weight loss journey that brought her to a weight that she could be both healthy and happy with. But Katie wasn’t skin and bones. She was soft and curvy with an ass that was maybe a little bigger than she would like, and breasts that didn’t match the fashion industries’ standards of what her body was supposed to look like. It was that fact that left her rotating out of each boutique's change room, trying on one dress and then the next before she found one dress that fit her body just enough for her to confidently make the purchase.

It was a little black dress that stopped just below the knee. It was sleeveless, and the deep vee neckline showed off her cleavage with a little help from some strategically placed fashion tape. The dress hugged her curves without restricting her stride and left her feeling sexy as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror and took her time to do her hair and makeup for her night on the town.

Aka. Her night at the hotel bar.

It was only a short walk from the elevator to the bar's entrance. The dark bar filled with the warm amber glow of the lights that hung above each table, and along the high traffic points of the bar. Normally, she wouldn’t consider going to a place like this. Katie liked to be able to see what she was eating and drinking. But tonight she was desperate. Desperate and alone with no thought in her mind that the latter would change. Besides, she just needed to be there long enough to take a few pictures and leave without an empty stomach. With those two facts in mind, Katie walked into the bar with the confidence only a mother could have and seated herself down the bar.

It’s the most lit area of the establishment, her seat was right beside one of the beautiful bronze light fixtures. It set her face aglow, her bright red lipstick and dark mascara framed eyes illuminated so fully she feared she might look like a clown, but she tried not to focus on the insecurities of dining out alone. Instead, Katie pulled out her phone and texted a quick picture of herself to Dottie. She looked a little more anxious than sexy, but it proved she was out. Then, she took a picture of the light fixture before placing her phone screen down on the bar top and welcomed a menu as it was placed in front of her.

The barkeep was nice, and if she was younger she might have mistaken his kindness for flirtation. But Katie knew better. It was his job to be friendly. Good service meant better tips, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t need the confidence boost. It, at the very least, left her smiling as she looked over her menu and ordered a drink to start: a Negroni Sbagliato.

It would be the first of two during her meal. The first left her more comfortable being out in Boston alone. The second gave her the confidence to lift her phone from the bartop. Her fingers hovered over the darkened screen before she awakened its brightness with the single click of the home button. Her eyes had to squint at the harshness of its light, her eyes having adjusted to the bar’s moody atmosphere before she could be greeted with the series of notifications from Dottie.

She was at her son’s hockey game, but she had taken the time to respond to the photo with a series of flame emojis. Quick, but effective support that had Katie’s finger leaning towards the Tinder app that she had tucked on her last page of applications.

The screen came to life with an even harsher light, leaving Katie to flinch in her seat as she tried to hide her screen beneath her arm. At her age, there was nothing more embarrassing, in her mind, than being on a dating app. She looked down at the first profile carefully as she brought her phone down to her lap, her thumb swiping left on the first eligible bachelor who didn’t look all that eligible when she was sure the woman in the picture was his wife, and not his sister or a friend. Then the second, third, and fourth men in her radius were all at the bottom of her age range and looked all too young.

In her position, Katie knew she shouldn’t be so picky. She was in Boston for only a few days. Alone for one night. If anyone wanted to meet her for a drink, or at the very least provided a pleasant series of text messages before ghosting her when she found out she was a mother, she would be able to label the night as a success.

With each passing profile, Katie fell further into defeat and accepted that she would be enjoying her night alone. And she accepted that as she sipped at what was her second drink, only for it to gently choke at her throat at a soft, unfamiliar voice spoken at her side.

“I’d swipe right on you.”

The words sent a blossom of heat through Katie from her heart to her cheeks and the tips of her toes. Unsolicited, they should have flooded her with dread. But they were flirtatious and left her giddy before she could even offer the man more than a glance. It had been a long time since someone hit on her at a bar, and it left her sitting taller in her seat. Confident.

That was until she looked right, and to the man who had greeted her with his flirtatious words. Her stomach was left unsettled. He wasn’t ugly. Far from it with his tall, lean stature, chestnut brown hair, and eyes a warm brown hue that could so easily tempt her into comfort if she let them. But he was young. Younger than anything in her age range on any of the dating apps on her phone. He looked older than her son, but she may have mistaken them for the same age if it wasn’t for the beginnings of a beard along the angles of his jawline.

As quickly as her stomach fluttered with butterflies, she was flooded with disappointment. She wouldn’t even entertain a man as young as he was. But Katie was too polite.

“That’s very flattering,” there was a hint of a smile in her voice as she looked down at the bartop to hide the blush that still threatened to creep up on her cheeks. “But I’m pretty sure I’m old enough to be your mother.”

The statement seemed to amuse him, his smile growing as he stepped up to sit on the barstool next to her. He, whoever he was, was getting too comfortable. It left Katie shifting in her seat, suddenly all too aware of how her heels hooked on her stool and how her thighs pressed together uncomfortably as her ass was cradled by her seat.

“I don’t believe it,” he wore a boyish grin as he turned his body just enough to give her all of his attention, “You here, looking like that…”

Katie could feel his eyes drag up and down the length of his body, admiring her figure and how it looked in her little black dress.

“Being anyone’s mother would be a shock to me,” he finished his train of thought, his words still on the verge of flirtation.

Katie wanted to accept it. To feel flattered by his interest however great or mild it may be. But there was an anxiety that bubbled deep in her stomach. One that left her paranoid that this could be a joke. Shifting in her seat, Katie did a glance around the bar. Looking from table to table she looked for anyone that the man beside her could be associated with. But the bar was quiet. There was a table with what looked like a bridal party that would be pregaming before hitting the town. Then, there was a table of old-timers who may have been regulars or retirees visiting the city. Neither were crowds he would be a part of. That was unless he was homosexual. But, if he were, he wouldn’t be seated beside her at the bar, hitting on her.

“You’re too kind,” she spoke slowly, trying to be polite.

“What can I say, my mama raised me right,” he smiled a boyish grin, “which is why I’d like to buy you a drink.”

Katie’s heart fluttered in her chest at the offer, her head cocking to the side as she spoke; “You don’t have to.”

“I insist.”

Katie had to give him one thing, he was confident. She could see it in how his dark eyes didn’t tear away from her, and how his shoulders remained strong instead of slouching with each of her flattered but deflective responses. He could have taken her brief remarks as being disinterested - which in a way she was disinterested if only because of his apparent age - yet, he persisted.

Reaching up with his hand, the mystery Bostonian flagged down the bartender and met him with a smile. He ordered himself a drink, before nodding towards Katie and requesting another for her as well. Then, he offered him his credit card. Katie’s eyes lingered on the piece of plastic as it was passed from one man to the other. It was just a typical credit card. Nothing fancy that would indicate that he was a man with exceptionally deep pockets, and her stomach filled with dread as she realized that she had probably let some poor college student pay for her drink.

It left her mouth tasting sour as her third drink of the evening was placed in front of her. So sour, that she almost rejected it. But it was already paid for, so she accepted it and decided that if he ordered a second for himself, she would pay for it.

“Thanks,” she spoke across the short distance between them, her body turning to be a little more open to a conversation.

Talking to him was the least that she could do.

“What brings you to Boston…” he started, his words trailing off. He wasn’t done with his question, yet, he was asking her for something already.

Blankly, Katie stared at him, unsure of what exactly he was fishing for until it hit her. He wanted to know her name. She could feel her face go red with the realization, and redder when she hesitated when she almost said her full name, Katherine.

Katherine felt old. Stale. Everything she was trying to avoid being, so she gave him her nickname instead, “Katie.”

“What brings you to Boston, Katie?”

“Visiting family,” she kept her answer brief without the messy details. And without the mention of having a son that she was sure was only a few years younger than him. “What about you…”

“Jeremy,” he was quicker to answer, his hand reaching out halfway. She smiled at the gesture, reaching out and meeting his hand with hers in a simple handshake before she withdrew to wrap her fist around her glass.

“What brings you to Boston, Jeremy?”

“Nothing too exciting, just work.”

Just work. Such a simple answer. Straightforward. No details. And she could have asked for more, but he met her level of secrecy - of mystery - all the while making his intentions known. He didn’t need to disclose his life to her, or her to him, because he couldn’t care less if he was just looking for a woman to take back to his room. But before she could confirm her theory to be true, he pressed her for more.

“If you’re here to visit with family, why are you alone?”

Katie wasn’t sure what she heard in Jeremy’s voice when he asked that question. If it was merely curiosity or pity, she hadn’t known him long enough to know. But it left her smile wavering as she answered him, “Busy schedules,” she shrugged her shoulders to give off a feeling of carelessness even though it was still bothering her, “I’ll see them all in the morning.”

“How early?”

If she had been taking a sip of her drink, Katie would have choked again. “You aren’t very discreet.”

“I can’t afford to be. A beautiful woman like yourself, you could fly off tomorrow and I’d never see you again. At least I can know I took my shot.”

Katie cocked her hair to the side, her bright auburn hair cascading down between her shoulders as her eyes looked at Jeremy in disbelief. He was the very definition of a golden retriever. Happy, waiting with the greatest anticipation that if he was a dog, his tail would be wagging. And he was waiting for her to throw her a bone.

Biting her lip, Katie placed her drink down on the bartop and her gaze followed after. She shouldn’t have been considering it. Yet there she was, her hands came to rest around her phone and gripped it tight as one thought was clear in her mind. She needed to call Dottie.

“Can you excuse me for just a moment?” she asked slowly.

Jeremy answered with a curt nod, his smile unwavering as he watched her with his wide brown eyes.

With his permission, Katie couldn’t get out of her chair fast enough. She slid from the stool, and her heels slipping on the hardwood. It left her unsteady for a moment, her hand reaching out to catch herself on the bar, but before she could reach the polished wood a pair of large, warm hands had wrapped around her waist.

The heat of his touch blossomed through Katie’s belly, sending her breath to hitch in the depths of her throat. She wanted nothing more but to hide her surely reddened face in her hands with embarrassment. She wanted to curse herself for her clumsiness, but she was frozen in his hold as he breathed out a whisper she could barely hear but could feel against her cheek; “Don’t worry. I got you.”

His touch.

His words.

It was almost enough to make her shudder. But with one shallow, forced breath Katie found her composure and gave his arm a careful squeeze and a thank you that he might not have been able to hear. Then, she was drying back, her steps quick as she moved for the privacy of the woman’s washroom. It was there she was able to pull out her phone and call Dottie. But Jeremy’s touch was not forgotten, it’s warmth remained deep in her belly, lingering.

“Where’s the fire?” There was an alertness in Dottie’s voice, nothing but the peaks of her face visible on the screen as she lay in the dark. Katie could only see more of her tired features as Dottie squinted and brought the phone closer to her face. “Wait,” her tone was one of disbelief, “are you still out?”

“Yeah,” Katie’s voice was uneven as she reached a hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, “and I think I have a problem.”

“If it’s your card, I told you so. I knew you should have called the bank before you went-”

Shaking her head, Katie cut her off, “No, no, there’s a guy?”

Dottie perked up, any sign of sleepiness void from her face in an instant. “A guy? What are you calling me for? Take him to bed!”

Her excitement was contagious, not even the complaints from Dottie’s tired husband who lay beside her in bed could spoil the mood. Katie wanted to be able to revert back to her younger self. To squeal with excitement over a man. A man who thought she was sexy - who wanted to sleep with her with no strings attached. But it wasn’t that simple.

“It’s just that,” Katie chewed her lip, a heavy sigh rocking her shoulders, “he’s young.”

“How young is young?” Dottie asked slowly, and cautiously as they waded into dangerous territories together.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “they didn’t card him. Maybe, twenty-five. No more than thirty.”

“Shit,” Dottie cursed, the single word drawn out and earning another grunt of disapproval from her husband, “he cute?”

“Very.”

“Well, I mean… Thirty isn’t too bad.”

“That’s IF he’s thirty, Dot,” she emphasized, her eyes wide as she dropped her voice lower at the sound of someone entering the washroom.

“What’s the worst-case scenario?” Dottie asked.

Katie thought for a moment, her teeth chewing her lip as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. As a woman, there were many horrible scenarios a woman could end up in when dating. Ending up dead was the worst of the worst, but she didn’t take it to that extreme. “Worst case? He’s a twenty-one-year-old fuckboy like the ones we warned Megan about before she went off to college. And I end up with the clap.”

Dottie’s laugh was lost on the flush of the toilet in the stall next to Katie, and the rush of the sink as the stranger in the bathroom washed their hands. It was a mess of noise, but Katie could still make out Dottie’s next question, “Best case?”

Katie hesitated as she threw her head back to rest against the stall. She was embarrassed by the answer.

Dottie answered for her, “Best case you get laid for the first time in what is it? Two years?”

Hearing it outloud sent her stomach sinking? Had it really been that long?

Katie cursed under her breath, her head hanging low. When had she let her life get so pathetic? For years, her life had one priority, raising her son. And she had done a good job, he was successful, about to play in his first NHL game after starting his season with the Bruins’ AHL affiliate. But she never really moved on from her divorce, and from being a mom. Her ex-husband was engaged, and ready to start a new family. But she hadn’t even fucked someone anyone since her divorce. Even then, she and her husband hadn’t even shared a bed before their divorce. She couldn’t even recall the last time they slept together, even if she wanted to.

From her throat erupted a long, unsatisfied groan. Her mind quickly fell on a decision that she may come to regret.

“Dot,” she sighed, “is it fucked up if I take him back to my room?”

Silence hung between the two of them for a moment. Dottie processed the decision, and Katie waited anxiously for her friend to tell her if she was making the wrong decision.

“Teach the kid a thing or two,” Dottie spoke, the playful nature of her words lifting a weight of insecurity from her shoulders.

“Dottie, thank you,” she spoke quickly, one hand going to the lock on the door while the other ended the call.

With the decision made, with a little help from her friend, all Katie could do now was hope that Jeremy had waited for her at the bar. If he hadn’t she couldn’t blame him for leaving. Maybe she was older than she looked from a distance. Or he had just come to the bar to kill time before a night out in Boston, and she was merely the entertainment. She couldn’t let herself get too hung up on him if he were gone, but thankfully, she didn’t have too. Jeremy remained at the bar. Standing instead of propped up on his stool, his hand slipping something into his back pocket on her approach.

And Katie, she didn’t waste any time being coy. “I don’t have reservations until 11.”

The smile that was beginning to feel like a welcome constant on Jeremy’s features grew at her words. Katie wasn’t sure if it was the question he was expecting, but it was clear that it was the one that he was hoping for and it flooded her stomach with butterflies.

She was going to do it.

She was going to take this attractive young man back to her room.

“Let me just pay my tab,” Katie told him, her hands already on her purse to dig out her credit card. She merely pressed her jump against the thin, cold plastic card when the bartender threw his towel over his shoulder and raised his hand to reject her payment. He didn’t want it. Katie’s brow furrowed, then it hit her. It had already been paid for.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she was quick to quip. Katie knew she should have been thanking him, but she couldn’t help but feel a little insulted. She was a grown woman. Successful in her own right. She was more than capable of paying for her own meal.

“It’s nothing, really,” Jeremy shrugged it off, his arm sliding behind her to rest on her back so effortlessly it was as if they had come to the bar together.

“Let me pay you back,” Katie insisted, earning the gentle pressure of his hand against the small of her back as he began to lead her out to the lobby. She almost scoffed. As if he knew where her room was - because she wasn’t going back to his. If this was going to happen, it needed to happen on her terms. That also meant, shoving her hand into her wallet and shoving a fist full of American money in his direction.

Jeremy continued to refuse, his one hand reaching out to guide her hand back towards her open wallet. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m more than capable of paying for my own dinner-” She voiced, ready to fight him on it further, but his answer stopped her in place.

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.”

Katie stood in the middle of the hotel lobby, her head slightly cocked to the side as she slid out of Jeremy’s reach. He only took a few strides before looking back at her with such warmth in her eyes she thought she might melt. Jeremy was sweet. Too sweet. Acting in every way he had wanted her husband to when they were married, and he was just a young man. It was a cruel thing in a way. For the universe to taunt her with him, but she would let herself enjoy him, if only for the night.

“Come on, I’m up on the fourth floor,” as she spoke, Katie’s words softened. She wouldn’t be fighting him about her bill again. If he wanted to be a gentleman, she was going to let him.

They boarded the elevator together, Katie drawing her key card and moving to the right, and Jeremy boarding and leaning against the far left wall. Scanning her card, the elevator doors shut, the two of them alone together for the first time as the elevator began its slow ascent.

The movement made it feel as if her heart was sinking to the depths of her stomach, her anxiety building, as she leaned back against the right side of the elevator directly across from Jeremy. He was smiling still, watching her, admiring her. And she couldn’t help but smile too. It was contagious.

Her smile had him smiling wider.

Then, he pushed off the wall of the elevator and closed the short distance between them. He moved so quickly her anxieties didn’t have enough time to worsen, nor did they ease. Her heart raced in the depth of her chest as his hands found her waist, drawing her in from the cold support of the elevator wall and into the strength of his body. He was lean, maybe even a little too lean for her liking, but she could feel how strong he was as her body was pulled flush with his. Katie could feel it first in his grasp, as Jeremy’s fingertips pressed into the curves of her waist. Then again, as her hands braced against his chest, her own careful touch sliding up - feeling his pectorals flex in the process - and around before linking behind his neck. Her tough welcomed Jeremy in, and with him came his kiss.

Katie had to press up onto her toes to meet it, even in her heels. Teetering on the toes of her heels as Jeremy leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to her lips. She had expected it to be a desperate kiss. One that was sloppy, and would leave her face wet and her eyes rolling, but she was wrong. Jeremy kissed her slowly, both hands on her hips for one moment, the next one had risen to stroke over the soft skin of her cheek. His thumb dragged over the smooth flesh, and down to catch on her chin, drawing her mouth open. Katie had to choke back a moan at the feeling of his tongue slipping in between parted lips. The warm stroke of his tongue infiltrated her mouth, the depth of the kiss leaving her legs weak as the elevator door chimed.

They had reached her floor.

red

She licked her lips as she drew back, her hands falling to her clutch to fumble with its contents for her room key. If she was fumbling with her purse, she wouldn’t have to look up and risk anyone else seeing the red lipstick that quickly became a mess on her face. She could feel how it was smudged off her lips, and she was sure that if she looked to Jeremy who now followed behind her like a shadow, that it would be smeared over his lips as well.

But she didn’t look up. Not until she got to the door of her room and she took a deep breath. Once she crossed the threshold, there would be no going back. The thought left her on the verge of vomiting as she heard the lock click, and her hand reached for the door handle. She was nervous, more than that. Anxious. She was anxious. But there was an excitement that left her shivering as she led Jeremy into her hotel room.

If he was going to kiss her like that, she couldn’t wait to see what else he intended to do with her. But first-

“Do you want another drink?” Katie asked him quickly as she came to stand in front of the small console table in the entryway. She placed her clutch there, and her key and had intended to peel away from it to move to the small bar in her room, but she found herself trapped between it and Jeremy’s body as the door shut behind her.

Hands splaying out over the table, Katie braced herself there as Jeremy’s hands returned to her body. One snake around her waist, easing her to lean back into him while the other carefully pushed her loose auburn curls away from the pale skin from her neck. Her eyes went wide, fixated on the horrible piece of art that hung on the wall as his hot breath encroached on her neck. It washed over her in heated waves. The hot moisture was almost enough to make her sweat, but instead Jeremy left her melting. His kiss was slow against her neck. Peppering at first before his lips were dragging down her skin, leaving hot trails down to her collarbone and back up again.

Her heart fluttered. Then it pounded. So loudly, all Katie could hear was her heartbeat in her ears. It left her eyes fluttering shut, her mind focused on nothing but the kiss of his lips and the touch of his hands on her body. He caressed her curves, gripped at her flesh and kissed every bit of exposed skin on her neck, throat and shoulders. And it all left her melting, her mind fuzzy, and any bit of inhibition was ready to leave her and let him do as he pleased with her body. That was until she left his hand encroached on the hem of her dress. The warm touch of his hand on the sensitive skin of her thigh sent her head into a panic.

This was the beginning of foreplay.

Katie should have expected it, she should have been looking forward to it. But it left her nerves raw. In all the years she had been married to Ronnie, foreplay had been forgotten. Sex was an obligation and it was quick. A mere tool used to please her husband while she was left to finish herself off in the shower or beside him after he had fallen asleep in bed. Back then, it didn’t matter if she was dressed in lingerie or pajamas. If she had a fresh shave, or hadn’t shaved for weeks. Ronnie didn’t care - or atleast, he always said he didn’t. But now, as a stranger’s hands were so eager to explore every inch of her body, it left her self conscious.

“I’ve got whiskey at the bar,” Katie breathed out quickly, her knees weak as she stepped away from him and quickly moved for the bar.

She was met by Jeremy’s low chuckle,“I’m not that bad looking, am I?”

“No - no, it’s not that - I’m sorry,” Katie apologized, her hand grasping at one of the little bottles of rum from the bar, “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time. I’m just a little nervous.”

“How long’s it been?” His words were casual, his confidence unwavering even as she found her so close to plummeting.

“Since when?” She asked slowly, seeking clarification if only to bide herself more time. Katie didn’t want to have to tell him the truth, but she wasn’t a liar.

“Since you’ve had casual sex?”

“You really don’t want to know,” she countered.

Omission was not the same as lying.

Looking up from the bar top, and the bottle of whiskey in her hand that she had yet to uncork her eyes rose to look at Jeremy who had found his way to the end of her bed. He had seated himself down, his shoes kicked off his feet, and he leaned back on his elbows, lounging casually in the bed that had yet to be slept in.

While he laid back, so casually, that he could have let his head lul back and let himself stare at the ceiling. But even as he relaxed there, waiting for her nerves to be put at ease by a little liquid courage, his soft brown eyes were fixated on her. Her grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, a quivering breath coursing through her body as she held his stare. It was soft, alluring in a way that left her ready to answer anything he may ask of her and it left her curing under her breath. It was a dangerous thing, just how easy to trust he was.

Pouring her drink, straight whiskey into her glass, she sipped the room temperature alcohol back and let it burn. Then, under the blaze of it consuming her, Katie answered, “Twenty years.”

“Bullshit.”

Katie’s lips pressed together in a small smile, the shock on his ace coaxing an innocent shrug from her shoulders.

“You don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Now that is bullshit,” she pointed at him, her lips spreading into a wider grin now.

“You look incredible. That dress, your body. What can I say? You caught my attention. But I bet that dress looks even better on the floor.”

Katie swallowed back the lump that quickly formed in her throat as his words. She was very self conscious about her body. It changed drastically over the years. Once she was skinny, flat and narrow in no way the healthiest version of herself. But it was also the one that had carried her child, and left her with curves she didn’t want and scars only her ex-husband had seen. And now she was going to share it with Jeremy, a man who she was sure still had so much to learn about a woman’s body. It was a terrifying thought. One that hung in the back of her mind as she abandoned her drink on the bar and stepped out of her heels.

Barefoot, she took careful strides towards the bed, her demeanor caught somewhere between confident and terrified, but it caught his attention all the same. Katie knew she had caught his eye when his smile tested the limits of how far it could spread over his cheeks as Jeremy sat up from where he leaned. He moved slowly to the edge of the bed, his legs spreading just enough for Katie to stand between them.

With a careful, final step, Katie stood between his legs and looked down at him. Her heart pounded deep in her chest, so hard and so rapidly she thought her ribs were about to rattle. And in her chest, she could feel her very last inhale struggling to creep its way back up her throat in the calm of an exhale. It burned in her lungs, the nerves of undressing in front of him smothering her. That was, until she felt the warms of Jeremy’s hands find her body, and in an instant she calmed.

She exhaled slowly through slightly parted lips as her eyes fell shut. In the darkness it brought, Katie fixated on the warmth of Jeremy’s touch. It dragged over her curves, tracing each rise and fall with his fingers and palms before each of his hands settled on her broad hips. There, he gripped her gently and guided her steps in a small circle so she stood with her back to him.

Katie raised up her arms slowly, her hands dragging up her own neck and tangled into her auburn strands as she drew them away from the zipper of her dress. Her breath hitched again, but only for a moment, in the back of her throat as she felt his fingers pinch at the zipper and drag it down. He inched it down slowly, and Katie could feel the black fabric begin to fall away from her skin. And as the warm fabric fell away, the cold air of the room kissed her skin. It sent a shiver coursing up her spine, her entire body shuttering as the fabric hit the ground, leaving her in nothing but a pair of black lace pair of panties.

They were brand new. The tag was in the trash bin in the bathroom. And Katie would be forever thankful that she had bought them when she bought the dress instead of wearing something she had packed. If she had been wearing anything else, she may have recoiled from his touch, but instead, as she turned in place to face him, Katie radiated confidence.

He could see almost all of her, from her stretch marks to the freckles on her skin. Yet, Jeremy’s touch didn’t recoil, his hands continued to explore the expanse of her body and his dark eyes didn’t look away. Instead, they traced her every curve on the way back up to her face that was left blank from the nerves that came from waiting for his reaction. Katie was sure that Jeremy hadn’t seen a body like hers before. So old, so flawed, so-

Her thoughts were broken by Jeremy’s slow, soft spoken words. “Yeah, looks much better on the floor,” Jeremy punctuated his words with the slow swipe of his tongue over his lip as his warm gaze dragged up and down the length of her body. His complement dissolved any feeling of nervousness, of insecurity, that had consumed Katie. Her joints had been weak, and her heart racing, but he brought her calm.

In that calm, Katie found her confidence. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip, her mind racing as she tried to determine what exactly her first move would be – and then she took it.

One step, and then another, Katie brought her legs up to kneel on the bed, the mattress shifting beneath her weight as she straddled Jeremy’s lap. The denim on his dark jeans was rough against the inside of her thighs as his hands helped guide her down into his lap. Jeremy’s arms constricted around her, drawing her nearly naked body flush to his. Katie could feel his hot breath against her cheek, her inhale drawing in the sweet scent of alcohol before she stole a kiss from his lips.

Katie wasted no time with sweetness or caution. Instead she kissed him with such an insatiable hunger, she knew tasting him on her tongue wouldn’t be enough. But it was a start. Each deep kiss and stroke of her tongue against his left his stubble to drag over the sensitive skin of her jaw and cheeks. It was rough, scratching against her skin and contrasting the tender movements of his hands as his warm touch moved up over the curves of her body. Jeremy’s touch settled on the broad curve of her hips, his fingers digging into the soft and supple flesh. And it was the only encouragement she needed to coax the subtle roll of her hips over the roughness of her jeans.

Quickly, Katie became intoxicated by his kiss, by his touch and the very feeling of him between her legs. It began with the friction of his fly against the crotch of her panties, the subtle friction sparking the beginnings of her arousal. And then she felt him. His cock stiffened in the confines of his jeans, growing and becoming a thick outline that pressed up into the thick denim that divided them. Katie dragged her core up and down his clothed length, a shudder taking her body as a soft moan was coaxed from her lips. And it left Jeremy smiling as he pulled back just enough to tug off his t-shirt.

Her eyes looked him up and down in a quick glance. Jeremy was fit. With his chest muscles flexing, the outline of his abs clear and his biceps building as he tossed his t-shirt aside, Katie almost tucked her tail and ran. He wasn’t an Adonis of a man, but he was intimidating in every way. Especially, while she was no idyllic beauty herself.

“That’s just,” she exhaled a long, desperate breath, “not even fair.”

Jeremy’s grin grew wider, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter, as he picked her up and flipped her to lay back against the comfort of the bed. The action left her breathless, her hands scrambling against the bed to ease herself upright until she felt Jeremy’s hand flat against her stomach to keep her in place as she lay just beneath the comfort of the hotel room pillows. She lay there panting for a moment, her hair a mess against the bed and her eyes fixated on the ceiling as she felt the bed shift, and Jeremy settle between her legs.

“Just take a second, relax,” Jeremy’s hot words washed over the inside of her thighs, and her core clenched.

The room around her seemed to spin as she lay there, her lips parted in disbelief as she felt his fingers hook on the black lace of her panties and dragged them down the length of her legs. She could feel the warm, wet puddle of her arousal as it dragged down against her inner thigh, and her stomach knotted as she felt the warmth of his breath encroach on her needy core. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had been between her legs - if one had been at all, because she knew her husband never had been. But Jeremy didn’t hesitate.

He lay on the bed on his stomach between her legs, his one hand sliding down from her hip, over the red curls of hair that trailed down over her pelvis and down to the slick folds between her thighs. He stroked her slowly, with two fingers barely brushing her slit before parting her with his fingers and tracing the sweet arousal at her core. Jeremy teashed her there, her heart racing as she tried so desperately to be calm. Her heart pounded, and her teeth care down on her lower lip in a firm bite, the pain a little distraction from the insecurities that threatened to consume her. She in no way felt prepared for this of all things. It was supposed to be a quick fuck, but then she felt him. The warmth of his tongue stroked over the entrance of her cunt and she moaned.

It ripped up her throat before she could stop it, the heat and wetness of his long tongue a stark contrast to the colder temperature of the hotel room. And the sound only seemed to fuel him. He delved into her as if he was dehydrated and she was all he had to drink. His tongue parted her folds, and delved into her core leaving her cunt dripping with his saliva. His hands wound around her waist, one moving over the thick red curls of her hair as he blindingly fumbled for her clit as his face was buried between her thighs.

Reaching down, her hand took hold of his carefully. Her fingers slid along his, gripping them carefully as she guided him to just the right spot. But once she guided him there, Katie’s touch didn’t leave him. Her hand remained resting over his. It kept his pressure even, and his motion just right as he rubbed her in slow circles. The action wound her up, the pleasure building like a wind up toy. Each stroke of his tongue, and every rotation of his fingers left her burning pleasure to coil in her stomach and soon she was seeing stars. She was so close to the brink of her pleasure, that her toes were curling against the sheets and her thighs threatened to close in on his ears. But that was where he left her, on the verge of her climax, as he trailed sloppy kisses down the inside of her thighs before he could push up and pull as his belt.

Pushing up onto her elbows, she watched as she pulled his belt free, and worked his jeans and his boxer briefs down his legs together. It was hard not to stare, to admire the muscles of his body as she fished through his pocket or his wallet, and then the condom that was tucked in its folds.

The wrapper became discarded on the bed beside her, and he worked the latex onto his cock, ready to take his place between her legs again, but she didn’t let him. Katie felt too guilty, selfish even, for having his face buried between her legs, and it had her pushing up from her place with a sudden surge of confidence. Her hands found the strength of Jeremy’s chest, a playful shove knocking him back to lay against the bed so she could climb into his lap once more. She took in a steady breath, her nose wrinkling for a moment as it crossed her mind that she may be too old for what she had in mind, but it didn’t stop her.

With a single hand, Katie reached down between their bodies and took hold of his cock in her hand. She stoke it slowly, once and then again before she brought it to the entrance of her core. The mere pressure of the tip of her cock threatened to send her legs trembling before she could take him. If it were anyone else, Katie might have given up and let him take her plainly on her back knowing full well it would get the job done for her. But Katie persevered. She eased herself down onto him slowly, her eager core accommodating him so effortlessly it left her moaning. And once she felt his warmth against her ass, and had consumed him into the depths of her core, Katie began to ride him.

Her hands braced herself against the slender strength of her chest as her hips rolled. She moved in a slow and steady rhythm, the friction sending pleasure boiling through her entire body. Katie became lost in the feeling of hip hips rising to meet her body in a gentle pound. It was all she could fixate on, even as her legs began to tremble and the muscles in her legs began to burn. She could hear each subtle impact, the meeting of skin, and it became a symphony of sounds that mixed with her desperate breath and the soft sounds that she coaxed from Jeremy’s lips. He reeled on the bed beneath her, his warm eyes admiring her body as his hands gripped her hips and fingers sunk into the flesh of her ass. He encouraged her every move, guiding her up and down his cock, but she couldn’t hide how her legs trembled.

Jeremy grinned wide, his head leaning back against the pillow as he let out a trembling breath of words, “Look so pretty taking my cock, you wanna see?”

Katie found herself at a loss for words as she slid down the length of his cock and froze with him deep inside her. Her breaths quaked under each uneven breath, and her mind was left fuzzy by the mere feeling of being so full of him. And all she could do was nod.

Carefully, Jeremy eased her from his cock, and guided her to rest on all fours on the bed. In front of her at the end of the bed was the dresser, her empty bag still resting on top of it, but it wasn’t enough to block the view of the mirror that hung on the wall above it. She could see her reflection there, her auburn hair left mused and her face was almost just as red as it was flushed and smeared with her red lipstick. She could see her body too. Her skin was fair and freckled and so exposed. Her breast hung in two small swells, and from behind her shoulders she could see the swell of her hips and Jeremy positioning himself behind her. His eyes were fixated on her ass, as were his hands that kneaded at the soft flesh.

Katie could see his lips move in a silent curse that was lost on her as he pulled he positioned her just right. And when he had her just where he wanted her, the careful glide of the tip of his cock found her entrance again, and her thrust deep inside. The first thrust left her mewling, and the second left her fingers to grip at the bedding below. She met every single one of Jeremy’s thrusts, the mass of her ass quaking from each impact. But she didn’t watch herself, Katie’s eyes did not leave Jeremy. She watched as his face softened, and his muscles flexed. His eyes even closed from the time as he became lost in the feeling – but when they opened his stare met his gaze in the mirror.

Jeremy tutted her gently, a single hand leaving the soft flesh of her hip to travel up the length of her back. As he moved, she could feel more and more of his body against her. Then, his hand found her throat. He held it carefully, without pressure, and guided her up to kneel. There she could feel his entire body against hers, all the while his cock was buried deep in her core. His thumb rested along her chin, and his forefinger stretched out along her jaw, and Jeremey held her gaze there, on her own feeble expression as he fucked her until her throat was raw, and her core clenched desperately around her cock. It was under the pressure of her core’s embrace that she felt his breathing quicken,the rush of air hot against the back of her neck as he reached the very peak of his climax.

His hands fell away from her lip ribbon, and Katie fell back onto her hands and knees. Her entire body trembled as she lowered herself down to the mattress. The soft twitches involuntary as she was left panting and void of Jeremy as he eased his cock from her. She was seeing stars, her head or the room spinning as the rush of being fucked began to fade. Katie was left exhausted, ready for sleep, but satisfied - feeling euphoria for the first time in years. But before she could sleep, she needed to take care of Jeremy.

“You’re welcome to shower before you go,” she offered as she lay sprawled out on the mattress. It was the least she could do.

“I’m going to take you up on that,” Jeremy carded a hand through his sweaty curls as he nodded towards what he thought was the bathroom door.

Katie nodded in confirmation, and watched as he disappeared through the bathroom door. She did not move until she could hear the water tattooing against the shower floor. But she didn’t go far. She reached out to the dresser, and she pulled open the dresser drawer. She had left her pajamas on the very top, the same ones she was going to wear before Dottie had convinced her to go out, and she dressed slowly. Her body ached in the best way as she stepped into them. Then, she joined Jeremy in the bathroom.

The room was full of steam, the mirror fogged over as she moved to stand in front of it. A single hand cut through the fog, revealing her tired reflection, but best of all she could see the silhouette of Jeremy in the shower behind her. She stood there, brushing her teeth, her eyes admiring his body as it was obscured by the steamy glass.

Leaning forward, Katie spat a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink.

“I’m going to turn in, you can let yourself out when you’re done. Use all the hot water if you want, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t steal my wallet while I slept.”

Jeremy’s laughter filled the air as effortlessly as the plumes of steam from his shower. It drew Katie's eyes to his blurred silhouette, a small smile curling up on her own lips. She could get used to that sound, and the warm fuzzy feeling that came with it. The joy and amusement it embodied was one she needed to embrace herself–

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. Goodnight, Katie.”

–And for a moment she frowned as she moved for the doorway, her eyes fixated on the ground, as she realized it was a laugh she wouldn't hear again.

Sweaty palms threatened the integrity of a single slip of paper as Katie held it firm in a single fist. It was a pale yellow posted note, one that she had found stuck to her bathroom mirror when she had woken up in the morning. It was left there to be found by tired eyes, the message: For if you ever find yourself alone in Boston. Paired with Jeremy’s phone number, it had made her smile as she tucked it into her purse before she had gone out for brunch with her son, Parker, her ex-husband and his new fiance. But it had also left her panicked when it had fallen out of her purse when she pulled out her wallet as she insisted on paying at least half of the bill. It rested on the table face door for a moment, Katie had frozen completely and Parker was quick to try and retrieve it for her, but she had acted quickly. She had grabbed it before he could, and then she had conceded. Parker paid for their meal, and the paper had remained secured in her hand as they left and parted ways.

Even as she walked alone in a park she couldn’t remember the name of, the slip of paper remained secure in her hand. In the other she held her cell phone against her ear as it rang. She needed to call Dottie. She needed to know everything.

“He left me his number.”

“That’s my girl. Rocked that boy’s world.” Dottie encouraged her with a holler.

Katie looked down to her feet, her face flushed with color. She couldn’t remember the last time she had done anything like she had with Jeremy, and if it had been anyone else Katie would have bit her tongue. But she could trust Dottie more than anyone. They were best friends, practically sisters, Katie could tell her anything.

“I think he had to be older than I thought. He was actually really good in bed,” Katie smiled a little too wide as she spoke. It had been too long since she had a real girl talk. “Like really good. And his body, Dot, I couldn't have pulled a guy like that when I was twenty.”

“What did he say he did for work?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask-”

“Maybe he’s a porn star,” Dottie joked but Katie didn’t laugh.

She could only shrug. “I mean, it would explain a lot.”

“You used a condom, right?”

“Yes mom, of course I did,” Katie rolled her eyes.

“Good girl, are you going to text him?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. Katie looked away out over the park as if Katie could see her on what was merely a voice call. The prospect of reaching out to Jeremy was a pleasant thought in her mind. He was attractive, kind, and so good in bed. He treated her the way that she wanted to be treated. She should want to call him, but he was young. Too young to be anything more than a one night stand.

She could never see Jeremy again.

“Fuck, no,” she assured Dottie, “number went into the trash,” her words were rushed as she lied, and rushed further to assure Dottie wouldn’t question her on it. “I gotta go, I’ll call you after the game tonight. Kisses!”

TD Garden was unlike any arena Katie had ever been in. The fans were loud, so loud she swore her bones rattled in her body with every intense cheer. And the atmosphere left her sitting on the edge of the seat since before the game could even start. Or maybe that was just the nerves as she sat beside her ex-husband as they watched their son Parker Waylon-Stacy erupt from the tunnel to take his rookie lap.

Her hands came together over her heart, her eyes fixated on him, and then the jumbotron above as the camera followed his path along the side. The threat of tears burned at her eyes, her lips parted in a breath that fought back of heartfelt sob that erupted when his name was plastered across the screen with his stats from the AHL. Parker Stacy.

Stacy.

Her last name on her back, not her husband’s last name or the hyphenation of the two. It left ehr on the verge of tears throughout the night, and they did spill as it came down to the third period when she shot up from her seat as her son assisted on what would be the game winning goal. Katie cried into her hands, her husband’s arm patting her back as the crowd erupted around them. There was no greater pride than celebrating her son’s success in that moment with her husband, and the strangers around her that even offered her some napkins as her mascara began to run.

“That’s my son,” she sobbed with pride, and the crowd of college kids around her celebrated with her. Some jumped, others spilled their beer, Katie even received a hug, but they all cheered, “Stacy's Mom!”

Katie remained in her seat after the game, reveling in the silence as the seats around her and her family cleared. And she only moved from her palace when she received a text message from Parker. He wanted them to come down to the locker room. It sent her through what felt like a maze of the arena, but with the help of a member of the security team, she found her boy.

Katie ran to him, her arms enveloping her only son in her arms and pressing a kiss into his sweat drench hair. There the tears began to fall in hot streams down her cheeks, “I am so proud of you,” she told him as she drew back, her hand cradling his cheeks. Parker’s face was red, surely embarrassed by his mother’s affections, but he didn’t stop her. He had always been a mama’s boy, and that wouldn’t change even if his teammates gave him a hard time about that later.

Parker wore a boyish grin, his hand raising to push through his wet hair. He was already showered and dressed, even if some of the other players around him were still half-dressed in their equipment. Parker was ready to leave, but first he wanted to make the introductions he felt he may never be able to make again. “Mom this is Patrice Bergeron-”

Katie turned in place, a smile blossoming over her face as she reached out to shake the Captain’s hand. She had every intention of being polite. She wanted to introduce herself, to make the small talk as she was prompted to. But her words were lost as hoots and hollers of the nickname Bulldog filled the room. The players were welcoming their rookie goaltender back into the room after completing his post game interview. Confidence embodied his every stride, and it drew Katie’s curious eye.

The player was still dressed in his equipment, his back to her as he stood in front of his stall. SWAYMAN was sprawled across the back of his shoulders, framed by his shoulders. A single large hand reached back, peeling it from his body before it was tossed into a pile with the others. Katie’s eyes moved back to the Captain, a small awkward smile on her lips as she listened to him talk about the pleasure of mentoring her son. But his words were lost on her ears as they perked up at the sound of all too familiar laughter.

Katie’s blood ran cold, her eyes searching for the sources of the laughter. Her heart pounded in her chest, her stomach jumping up into her throat as she was left on the verge of vomiting. There, standing in his stall, laughing along with his teammates was Swayman, who no longer stood with his back to her. He was completely shirtless now, and his face was all too clear to see. She knew those warm brown eyes, and that soft confident smile. The sight of them was one that would be etched into her memories for the rest of her days.

Swayman was Jeremy.

She stood there, petrified, her eyes unmoving from his as he leaned back and flexed his chest muscles. It was there, with his back leaned against his stall, his warm gaze rose and his face softened with recognition. If he was panicked he didn’t show it. And while she froze, Jeremy acted. He stood up slowly, Katie had to fight not to let her eyes wander, and he approached with a casual stride.

“I didn’t realize we had guests,” Jeremy smiled as he came up to stand beside his Captain, but Katie could barely hear him over the pounding of her heart in her ears.

The room around her seemed to move in slow motion, her head suddenly feeling light as Patrice introduced her as Stacy’s Mom. It was then she thought she might actually vomit, the bile burning at the back of her throat as Jeremy looked to her with slightly parted lips and a slight glimmer in his eyes. Her palms began to sweat, so much so that she had to wipe her hands along the seam of her jeans before she could reach out to shake Jeremy’s hand as he offered it to her.

“Stacy’s Mom?” Jeremy spoke with such disbelief that Katie almost believed her, “You don’t look a day over thirty.”

White she had heard that same flattery before it made her heart race all the same. But this time, she couldn’t show it.

“You’re too kind,” Katie forced a smile, struggling to remain composed as the feeling of her hand encased by his left her heart racing just as his touch had the night before. It was enough to bring her to her knees.

Jeremy made her weak, and he would for the rest of her days. She would crave him, in every sense of the word. Katie wanted to hear his sweet laughter. She wanted to feel his hands on her body, and enjoy every piece of his that he could offer her. It was a hunger that would rage and burn in the depths of her, but it was one that she could never fulfill. Not now, not that she knew who he was.

Standing there, the chaos of the room became an echo in her ears as her hand fell away from Jeremy’s hold. She watched as he met her ex-husband, his smile consistently pleasant and was the only thing keeping her from spiraling right there in the locker room.

Katie would be seeing Jeremy Swayman again. At games, during breaks. Often. So often it would pain her. And she could only pray that she would have the strength to refuse him, or that Parker would find himself on a new team before her will could break.

Katherine Stacey could not fuck Jeremy Swayman.

She wouldn’t.

Not again.

Surely, she wouldn’t be able to get away with it. Not without complications.

Could she?

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orthodoxydaily · 2 years

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A journey in the Orthodox World

THE WONDERWORKING ICON OF THE MOTHER OF GOD FROM HAWAÏ

On the top picture we see the droplets of Myrrh the Icon is constantly releasing. People venerating wipe her with scarfs, prayer ropes, images, tissues and yet she never stop streaming filling the entire church. with an indescribable fragrance and a saintly atmosphere.

In his own words Fr. Deacon Nectarios, shares his life as caretaker of the Iveron Icon.

The Letter from Deacon Nectarios...

Dear beloved in Christ,

In humility and with extreme trepidation, I will attempt to relate to you what actually occurred before rumors spread, evolve, and eventually become untruths. Many have asked me to explain the events that have taken place in recent weeks regarding the two myrrh-streaming icons at the Holy Theotokos of Iveron Russian Orthodox Church in Honolulu, Hawaii. It has been hard to put into words the recent events that have taken over my life. I can't imagine how others would have reacted if they were in my shoes, God only knows. I pray God will guide me, and my family, to do and say things that are not contrary to His Will. I will attempt to tell the story of how these humble icons came into my life and how they changed it. Everything I write here is true.

The icons in question are two:

One is a mounted-print made, I believe, at the Sofrino Church factory near Moscow. It is an exact copy of the Montreal Myrrh-streaming Iveron Icon of the Holy Theotokos; this was the icon cared for by Blessed Martyr Brother José Muñoz. It is a small icon, roughly 7 x 9 inches and approximately one inch thick. My parish priest, Fr. Anatole Lyovin, gifted it to me for my Name's Day [in 1997]. He said he purchased it at a church bookstore in Toronto when the parish in which he had grown up celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of its founding. The icons from Sofrino have a distinctive style with a beautiful silk-screen riza (or oklad in Russian, Pokamiso in Greek) built into the icon. This is done so that those who cannot afford beautiful and very expensive icons can have something equally beautiful from Sofrino for less.

The second icon is a hand-painted icon in the shape of a Cross, with the image of Our Lord's crucifixion in the traditional Byzantine style of iconography. A Greek monk from the Holy Mountain Athos painted it. It is roughly 8 x 11 inches and approximately 1 1/2 inches thick. I purchased a set of two near identical Cross icons and gave one to my father as a gift; I kept the other.

Before I relate to you the full story of the icons, let me say how it all began …

Over three months ago, sometime around May, June or July of 2007, my wife and I noticed a hint of the scent of roses in the area surrounding our icon corner in our home chapel. Something made us look at our Cross icon of Christ (located behind our family reliquary), we noticed a small bead of liquid around the side wound on the image of the Christ, where the "soldier pierced His side with a lance". The liquid smelled very sweet, like myrrh. My experience with myrrh is quite limited, my only contact being a cotton ball soaked with myrrh from the Montreal Myrrh-streaming Iveron Icon and several cotton balls of myrrh from the Myrrh-streaming St. Nicholas Icon. We told no one of this and proceeded to "keep an eye" on the icon for any new developments or any possible continuation of the "streaming". The bead of myrrh eventually dried out and we eventually forgot about it.

Now on to the most recent developments in my story …

During the last week of September I began to notice an unbelievably strong smell of myrrh, at home, in my car, even at work. I couldn't explain it. Was it all in my head? I asked my wife and she said she didn't smell anything. I spoke with several other people who visited our home, and they too said they didn't smell anything. (One of these people was our Serbian Orthodox kuma – she, too, couldn't smell anything.) I was convinced it was all in my imagination. This was on September 27th, the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross.

Then in the first week of October, my wife and I were extremely ill and missed Vespers that night. We don't miss too many of the church's divine services, so we did take notice of the date, October 6th (Feast day of the Conception of St. John the Baptist). Around 10:30 p. m. that night, I was working in my office, which also doubles as our home chapel where our icon corner is located. My cat walked into the office and began to sniff around as if he smelled something. I did not smell anything. He proceeded to walk toward the area were our family reliquaries are kept. I thought this was strange since he would never go near the reliquaries; amazingly something always stopped him, and he's a nosy cat. Yet this time he stood on his hind legs and sniffed around, I assume in order to figure out what the smell was. I still didn't smell anything. I proceeded to pick him up and then I noticed the scent. It was so strong, even overwhelming. Never have I smelled anything like that in my life. I couldn't explain why I hadn't smelled it before. It was like a thousand roses had fallen into the room. I crossed myself and guarded myself with the Jesus Prayer. I put the cat down and proceeded to look at the icons. I admit I was afraid to look at the icons near the reliquaries. I finally came to the icon of the Cross and noticed that the bead of myrrh by the side-wound of Christ was still dry, for a split second I regained some composure, even as the smell of roses was getting stronger. I then looked down and my hand was wet -- it was myrrh. How did it get there? The icon was dry? Or was it? I then noticed that the left knee of the image of Our Lord was forming a bead of myrrh right before my eyes. I then called out to my wife. She came running, and when I asked her if she had spilled anything on the icons, she said no. She hadn't gone near them. I showed her the icon. She was in shock. I told her the smell is too strong. Help me look at the other icons. So she did. In my office I have two bookshelves, at the top of them are icons. We have many icons, maybe too many. I stood on my toes to reach for the icons at the top of my bookshelves. My wife did the same. Finally I grabbed the icon of Iveron given to me by Fr. Anatole. It was completely wet. And then the smell got even stronger. Even my wife could smell it. For those of you who don't know my wife, her sense of smell is very limited; she is only capable of smelling citrus scents. We were afraid. We asked one another if we cleaned or anointed the icons recently, and both of us said 'no'. 'What is going on?' I asked. I put the icons back where they were; we took a few pictures with our digital camera. Then I said an Akathist to the Mother of God in honor of her Iveron Icon and went to bed, or at least tried to.

The next day, Sunday October 7th, after much debate, we left the icons at home and went to church. After the Liturgy we spoke to our kuma, who instructed us to speak with the priest immediately. We told Fr. Anatole what had happened. He listened patiently and said, 'Bring the icons to church!' We then arranged with the priest, to bring the icons to church the next Wednesday, October 10th. Up until that Wednesday, the icons continued to stream. I collected the myrrh on cotton and before them I said prayers for my sister who was ill and for several other people.

[Fr Anatole's Note: The next day, his sister called her father to say that her doctor cannot explain it, but that her pancreas, which had completely stopped functioning had returned to its normal state and that her diabetes was under control.]

We couldn't wait until Wednesday.

On Wednesday October 10th, we brought the icons to church and placed them on two analogia (lecterns) in the center of the church. Fr. Anatole inspected them and wiped them down with cotton and proceeded to start the service of the Akathist Hymn of the Iveron Icon. After the service, the icons were wiped down again; they had streamed a little during the service. Fr. Anatole confirmed to us that it is 'definitely streaming myrrh' and that it is 'a very pure myrrh'. The smell of roses filled the air. I asked him what we were to do? He asked us to leave the icons in church for the time being. No one knew about the icons; they were safe at church.

The next Saturday, October 13th, just happened to be "clean the church day". We were preparing our church for the upcoming feasts; our parish feast day (November 24), Christmas, the Serbian bishop's visit, etc. So my wife, myself and another person were put in charge of cleaning. While we were cleaning the church we couldn't take our eyes off the two myrrh-streaming icons, which slowly streamed while we were cleaning. The smell of roses was quite pungent. The icons seemed to exude a strong smell of roses. The Icon of the Mother of God seems to smell more like 'roses' than the other icon. The Cross has a spicier smell to it. I can't explain it. While we were cleaning the church, our kumovi, came to see the icons. Not many folks could wait for Vespers that evening. Our Kuma later remarked to me that she's the 'doubting Thomas' and really couldn't believe it until she saw it for herself. Understandable. She didn't realize that the icons were actually streaming as we were cleaning. (They don't stream continuously.) She venerated the Cross and kissed the feet of Our Lord. She got a nice helping of myrrh in her mouth. Like the doubting Apostle Thomas who put his fingers in Christ's Hands and Side, she put her mouth right in the myrrh, where myrrh wasn't supposed to be! I couldn't help but laugh.

The next day, Sunday October 14th, was the Feast of the Protection of the Mother of God, and Fr. Anatole revealed the icons to the people. The icons streamed quite heavily; there was enough myrrh for everyone. They have continued streaming ever since. Many have come to see the icons, Russians, Greeks, Serbs, Roman Catholics, Protestants. All who approach the icons feel the Grace of God! There have been days when the icons have been completely dry, while on other days they are covered in myrrh. Yet whether they stream or not, they continuously give off an extremely strong scent of roses. It is truly a great miracle! I sometimes wonder if it is a warning...continue reading

#icon #wonderworking #motherofgod #theotokos #iveron #sacredart #easternorthodoxy

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