Traditional Victory Lap

Pacey skated off the ice after a hard practice with her college team. Four wildly successful years were about to end, but her goalie coach was still in her ear, anxious to debrief.

"Don't forget to keep your hips open." he advised. "Your butterfly was a little tight out there today."

She had known this man all her life. He had been her father's roommate at this same college thirty years before, and she had been named after him. That fact had never become common knowledge on campus, since the old coach was known simply as "Murph."

The college's men's team was scheduled to practice after the women's squad and were milling about while the Zamboni did its work.

Murph's council had been honest, but the innuendo hadn't been lost on the crudest member of the men's squad.

"That's right princess," called Ronny. "Keep those hips open."

Pacey decided to heed the advice of her fiancé and ignore Ronny. Unfortunately, he took her silence as license to continue.

"I don't know how he can see it under all that goalie gear." he called while leering at her suggestively. "But I'm willing to bet your butterfly is damn tight."

"The 'Butterfly' is a standard goaltending technique and my chosen playing style." she blurted out in frustration, before adding under her breath, "Idiot."

"Your butterfly is my chosen style too." he remarked, opting to ignore her explanation in favor of continuing the sexual overtones. "Murph wants you to loosen it up a bit, and we could do that... if you picked a real man."

"I did pick a real man." she snapped back defensively. As goalie for the women's team, Murph had introduced her to the goalie for the men's team, and it was love at first sight. They were due to be married just after graduation.

"Oh, sweetheart." Ronny interrupted, his words dripping with condescension. "I've shared a locker-room with Dusty for the last four years and he actually knows who the real big man is on this campus. Hasn't he told you?"

He had.

According to Dusty, Ronny's cock wasn't just big, it was cartoonishly large, nearly to the point of being impractical for anything besides looking at.

When she had asked why they were looking at it in the first place, he had bashfully admitted, "It's too big to miss, plus Ronny is always doing juvenile stuff like walking around pretending that he's a helicopter."

Her eyes had subconsciously drifted toward Ronny's midsection. When she snapped them back up, she was met by his smug grin.

"Ah, so he has told you!" Ronny announced triumphantly, before lowering his voice. "It's ok to be curious, sugar-tits. I'll make you a deal: I'll show you mine, if you show me yours."

"Quit perving on my girl, Ronny!" Dusty called out as he exited the locker-room.

"Why do you always assume the worst?" Ronny challenged with a hint of mischief.

"In the four years that I've known you, I've yet to see your lips moving without something inappropriate coming from them." Dusty answered back light-heartedly.

"Fair." Ronny chuckled with a self-deprecating shrug, as he turned to check on the Zamboni's progress.

Dusty approached Pacey, and the two lovers kissed with their goalie masks awkwardly propped atop their heads.

"There's no kissing in hockey!" barked Murph before breaking out in a teasing laugh as he returned to the ice. As goalie coach for both the men's and women's teams, he had played a role in bringing the two of them together through off ice training and stretching sessions.

It was during some of these workouts that she had caught Murph looking at her improperly. She had been shocked initially, since this was her coach & mentor, her dad's best friend, and someone she had known all her life.

Pacey eventually chose to ignore his brief peeks, since even she had to admit that a 6'-4" blond with C-cup boobs, a perky bottom, and a gymnast's flexibility was going to draw those types of looks. Plus, his fleeting glances were almost respectful when compared to Ronny's bold leering.

As the guys took to the ice, she headed for her own team's locker-room, where she expected a more mature environment. At the very least, there would be nobody pretending to be a human helicopter.

The next couple of months were a whirlwind of activity. The women's team celebrated Senior Night as they honored all the graduating players in their final home game on campus. The men's team followed suit 24-hours later.

The men got eliminated from league playoffs early, suddenly ending Dusty's college career. The women stretched their season a couple of weeks longer, with Pacey's journey ultimately ending in the national quarterfinals.

Graduation followed soon after, where their academic paths resulted in degrees, Dusty's in computer science, and Pacey's in kinesiology.

Next up was their wedding where they honored Murph by naming him one of the groomsmen. Ronny volunteered to be the headliner of the bachelorette party, an offer that Pacey politely turned down.

The new marriage immediately became a long-distance relationship, with Pacey signing a contract to be the third goalie on a women's professional team on the Pacific northwest, while Dusty began his pro career in the low, LOW minors on Florida's Atlantic coast.

In the off-season they returned to their college town to spend the summer together while training with their old mentor Murph.

While the first year still held some of the cachet of being a professional athlete, by the end of year two most of that luster had turned to tarnish.

Dusty had bounced around a fair bit and was already on his fifth team by the end of the season. Every transfer had been lateral, so he had yet to advance up the ladder.

And although Pacey had the relative stability of remaining in one city, she was firmly entrenched as the third string goalie, never having played in a regular season or playoff game.

It was time to start thinking about Europe.

Their agent put out some feelers, and while there wasn't interest from elite leagues, the thought of playing second or third tier hockey while sightseeing in Europe on someone else's dime had a certain appeal.

It was at this point that Pacey missed her period, and all their plans ground to a halt. When her pregnancy was confirmed, she put her pro-hockey dream on hold. As Dusty made plans to spend the winter in Poland, Pacey chose to stay near the campus to train with Murph, hoping to make a mid-season comeback immediately after giving birth.

"We should avoid the ice altogether." Murph advised. "If we start making adjustments for a changing center-of-gravity, we might create muscle memory that we'll have to unlearn later on."

"Core stability, pelvic floor health, and cardio are going to be our focus." he concluded.

When the college season began, Murph was busy morning and afternoon fulfilling his duties with the men's and women's squads. But he continued to squeeze some time in mid-morning to work with Pacey.

She gave birth a week early which perfectly coincided with Dusty's trip home for Christmas break, the couple welcoming a son, Ethan.

Pacey was back on ice almost immediately. Initially Murph pulled some strings to allow her to practice with her alma mater. But after the prolonged break, what she really needed was to get her timing back and for this she needed to play in some actual games.

There was no formal adult women's league in this area, but she found a group of 30 women to scrimmage with. No refs. No score keeper. It was fun, but even so soon after childbirth she wasn't challenged and looked out of place.

In the end it was pure chance that landed her a place to get into game action.

With her mom over to help her look after her newborn, Pacey took the opportunity to go for a run after dinner. It was while she was stretching at the midpoint of her circuit that she was approached by a man and girl who were walking a golden retriever pup.

"Are... are you Pacey?" the young girl inquired. When Pacey smiled and nodded, the child continued. "I thought I recognized you. I used to watch you play for the Falcons when I was a kid."

Pacey had to stifle a grin, since the girl looked no older than eleven or twelve even now. She hugged the youth before asking, "What's your name?"

"Eileen." was her answer. "This is my dad, Garth, and my dog, Daisy."

"Do you play hockey, Eileen?" Pacey asked while nodding to Garth and giving Daisy a scratch behind her ear.

"Not anymore. I hung up my blades." the precocious child answered. "I play basketball now. But I'm still a hockey fan"

"It's important to play sports that bring you enjoyment." Pacey said with a smile. Father and daughter couldn't have been more different, Eileen being chatty and engaging, while Garth seemed shy and quiet. He had yet to say a word.

"Do you still play?" Eileen asked. "I know that you graduated a couple of years ago."

"Yes, I still play." Pacey replied. "I just took a few months off to have a baby."

"You look very good for just having a baby." Eileen offered up.

"Thank you, dear." Pacey was genuinely flattered that someone had acknowledged the hard work she had been putting in, even if it was this chatty child. While glancing toward Garth, she caught him checking out her tight yoga pants. He quickly averted his gaze, his cheeks suddenly reddening. "I'm hoping to get back on ice once I find a team needing a goalie."

"Dad's team needs a goalie." Eileen offered up cheerfully. "Their regular goalie broke his leg in November, and they haven't won a game since."

"Really?" Pacey asked, while once again looking towards Garth. He was currently self-consciously inspecting his shoes.

"They've used a couple of teenagers, a couple of old-timers, and a few times they've had to dress one of their players as goalie." Eileen commented, before declaring, "It's been a real poo-poo platter."

"Eileen!" Garth quietly admonished, using his voice for the first time, before quickly falling silent once again.

"Is this a beer league?" Pacey directed the question toward Garth, but once again it was Eileen jumping in with the answer.

"It is, but it's a very good one. Lots of former pros and college players. It's called the Southside Industrial League."

Pacey had heard of it and even knew a few guys who had played there. It wasn't going to pay the bills like a pro league, but it would definitely challenge her more than the carefree scrimmages she was currently participating in.

"Why don't we exchange contact information?" Eileen said as she produced a bright pink cellphone. "That way, dad can call you after he talks to the guy running his team."

Pacey hesitated, before mischievously asking, "How do I know your dad isn't some sort of serial killer, who uses his daughter and dog to lure in unsuspecting women?"

Garth gasped, but Eileen didn't seem fazed in the least. "Dad's pretty shy at first." she said, looking proudly up at him. "But he's a sweetheart once he gets to know you."

They exchanged info and Pacey continued her run. By the time she arrived home there was already a message waiting for her.

EILEEN: [If you're available, we'd like you to play tomorrow night at 8:00.]

Pacey replied in the affirmative, then received another message.

EILEEN: [Dad wouldn't ask, but do you want to carpool? Rink is 45-minutes away, and since we live in the same neighborhood...]

Pacey once again paused. Eventually she texted back, offering to drive the first night, thus retaining some control by protecting her address.

She called Dusty to let him know that she was going to be playing in a men's league but didn't feel it was worth mentioning the carpool at this point.

Then she called Murph. He seemed as excited as she was and just happened to be free on Tuesdays. He was going to tag along, making the carpool less awkward. He warned that he wouldn't be available on Thursdays, the other league night, though.

The following night Murph came to her place, then they picked up Garth together and headed for the rink.

As she drove, Murph laid out a plan for what she should be working on for the first night, compartmentalizing things so she wouldn't be overwhelmed.

At the rink she discovered that the quaint old barn only had four dressing rooms, so she would be sharing space with the rest of the team.

"We've been through this before." advised Chuck, the rink attendant, as he led her toward her team's dressing room. He rapped on the door, and someone inside gave him the all clear, then clarifying to Pacey, "Always knock before entering.

"Change into your base layer in the bathroom, then announce 'loudly' that you're coming out." he continued, then turned to make sure he had the attention of everyone in the room. "If any of these fuck heads gives you grief, let me know and I'll handle them.

"Here's a key to the referee's room." Chuck said while handing it to her. "After the officials return to the ice for the next game, you can go in their room to shower. Lock the door behind you. The refs are aware that you'll be using their facilities.

"Good luck." Chuck whispered to Pacey, before turning to leave.

She scanned the room to see if there were any familiar faces. Garth was sitting next to her of course. And sitting directly across the room, with a big shit-eating grin was Dusty's former college teammate Ronny.

"This is our new goalie, Pacey." he declared, apparently being the person in charge of the team. "We don't need you to be great Blondie, we just need you to be not as terrible as the last few goalies we've had. Can you do that for your old pal Ron?"

"Uh, that's the goal, I guess." she replied tentatively, somewhat regretting her decision to show up. Then, catching the name change, she asked, "My old pal Ron?"

"'Ronny' is what you call a 12-year-old." he stated flatly. "I've matured, working in a professional setting, so I shortened it to 'Ron.'"

"I look forward to meeting this guy who doesn't act like a 12-year-old." she teased, eliciting a round of laughter.

Ron then went around the room shouting the names of the rest of the team in rapid fire, as each player nodded their head in turn. Besides Garth and Ron, all she really picked up was that there was a Russian guy named Valeri, a poshly dressed guy named Noah, and at least four guys named Mike.

Following Chuck's suggestions, she went into the bathroom to change into her base layer. The single stall must have predated the national building code, because when she swung the door closed, it latched just 4-inches from the toilet, leaving her standing beside the porcelain bowl.

Pacey paused to stare at the layout, contemplating how exactly someone would actually use the facilities in this configuration.

She eventually decided that one would have to sit up perfectly straight, with their knees at least 18-inches apart to complete the task. She was still at a loss on how to do the 'paperwork' at the end without unlatching the door and leaning out. She made a mental note to always take a bathroom break before coming to the rink.

She did finally manage to change her clothes in the tight confines, only stumbling and crashing against the door twice. Thankfully the latch had held, or she'd have toppled, partially naked, onto the floor in view of her new teammates.

She was wearing a sports bra under the base layer, but now awkwardly held her good bra and panties in her hand. As she rolled them up in her jeans and sweater, she made another mental note to bring a small gym bag with her from now on.

She exited the stall, announced her intention to re-enter the room and walked back to her seat. The moisture-wicking layer she wore wasn't scandalous by any means, resembling pj's or long underwear, but they definitely hugged ever curve of her body. She was silently thankful that she had continued her training regime throughout her pregnancy.

In her absence, the rest of the team had also put on their base layers, some as fancy as hers, some just ratty old t-shirts and gym shorts.

Heeding the rink attendant's warning, everyone, including Ronny, were nothing but respectful as they geared up.

Through the locker-room chatter, she was able to learn that her debut was going to be against another middle of the standings club.

Another thing that she was becoming mesmerized by was Garth's transformation. The shy, quiet, dad was becoming more chatty, animated, and confident as he geared up, almost like he was putting on a superhero costume.

Not everyone was carrying themselves with the same level of confidence, as teams that have been winless for several weeks tend to be. And the tentative play led to a couple of early scoring opportunities for the opponents that Pacey turned aside.

Later, a forward had been left unmarked in front of the net for a usually routine tap-in goal, only for Pacey to slide across and stop the puck with just the tip of her toe. The player tried to put the rebound into the upper part of the net, but she managed to snare it with her glove to end the threat.

Emboldened, Garth made an end-to-end rush after the next face-off to open the scoring. Not 30-seconds later, Ronny finished off a two-on-one with Valeri to go up by two goals.

Losing can be contagious, but so can winning, and her teammates were beginning to feed off her confidence. When the final buzzer sounded, the losing streak was over after an easy 7-1 rout.

Pacey met briefly with Murph as she was coming off the ice. She expected him and Chuck to be the only spectators at a Tuesday night beer league, but they were part of a crowd of perhaps 200 people.

"I saw a few things, mostly positive." Murph said in his raspy voice. "Go enjoy the win, we can debrief on the drive home."

When Pacey entered the locker room, a large whoop was given in her honor. Then Ronny passed her 'the game puck.' She had noticed the referee skating away with the actual game puck minutes earlier, but she was still flattered by the symbolic gesture.

It was a much more relaxed atmosphere in the room afterwards, ending the losing streak having lifted everyone's spirits.

After removing all her gear, Pacey grabbed her shower supplies and headed across the hallway to the referee's room.

It was little more than a large closet, with a bench along one wall, perhaps wide enough for adolescents, but woefully inadequate for four normally sized adults to dress side-by-side. At the opposite end of the room was a toilet wedged beside a single shower stall.

There was no shower curtain, although the rusty curtain rings continued to persist. Pacey now realized why Chuck had warned her to lock the door, since she would be entirely exposed, should someone enter by mistake. Although she had already locked it, she now checked it again... just in case.

She turned on the water, then stripped down and stood under the shower. Pacey silently cursed the rink attendant for planting a seed, as she found herself frequently peeking toward the locked door, expecting it to open.

When she was finished, she quickly toweled off and got dressed. Crossing the hallway, she loudly knocked on the door, waited to be invited in, then packed her equipment bag.

"Coming back Thursday night?" Ronny inquired. When Pacey smiled and nodded, he added, "We usually go to the pub for beer and wings after Thursday games, if you're interested."

On the drive home, Murph broke down what he had witnessed, while Garth returned to his silent ways. However, occasionally she would catch Garth's eye in the mirror and he would smile, slowly coming out of his shell.

When Pacey arrived home, her newborn son and her mother were both sleeping peacefully. The mental and physical stimulation from tonight's game were conspiring to prevent her from joining them in slumberland, so she curled up on the couch to wind down.

Dusty was back in Europe, and she was tempted to call him with an update on tonight's game, along with the reveal that she was now teammates with Ronny. Heck, getting exposed to that much testosterone after being apart from her husband for two weeks, she just wanted to hear his voice.

However, after noticing the time on her phone, she did the now familiar calculation and realized it was just after 4 AM in Poland. Too early for a call.

Instead, she decided to take matters into her own hands, figuring that a little release of pent-up energy might welcome sleep. She could never intentionally expose herself to her teammates, but what would it hurt to fantasize about a shower room mishap in the interest of being well rested for Ethan's next feeding?

Pacey called Dusty the next morning, and he shared her excitement over the big win in her debut. Then she shared some other details.

"I'm teammates with someone you used to play with." she coyly announced.

The phone went quiet, and Pacey initially thought one of them had dropped the call, when Dusty finally spoke.

"Well... Ronny is the only guy who stayed local after we graduated." he said slowly.

"BINGO!" she exclaimed.

"How pervy did he act?" Dusty tentatively inquired.

"Actually, he was fairly well behaved." she replied honestly.

"Oh." Dusty muttered flatly.

Sometimes emotion is hard to read in a voice,

and Pacey now wished she had made this a video call, because Dusty almost sounded... disappointed?

"Maybe he's finally matured?" she offered tentatively.

"Nah!" Dusty dismissed the suggestion outright. "Our boy Ronny isn't growing up any time soon."

"He goes by 'Ron' now." Pacey countered.

"Changing the spelling of your name does not mean you have matured." Dusty challenged. "The first time I met your parents, would it have helped if I'd referred to myself as 'el Dust'?"

"My parents liked you from day one, but point taken." she agreed.

She silently wished that she knew the equipment manager on Dusty's Polish team, because stitching 'el Dust' onto one of his game jerseys sounded like a cool prank. She decided to keep that one in her back pocket in case circumstances changed.

"Don't let your guard down around Ronny." Dusty gently coaxed. "He has a way of escalating things."

"I'll keep an eye on him." she relented.

It was at this stage of the conversation that she had planned to mention sharing a dressing room with the guys, but now she hesitated.

She was receiving mixed messages, disappointment over Ron not being pervy enough, then warnings to be wary of Ronny being overly pervy.

She decided that her promise to, 'keep an eye on him', was a good place to leave the topic.

They continued to chat for another twenty minutes before declaring their love for each other and ending the call.

Murph had responsibilities with the college teams on Thursdays, so he wouldn't be traveling with her tonight.

"There's my drive!" she called out to her mother as she gathered up her gear. She had decided that she was comfortable enough to share her home address with Garth, and he was splitting carpooling duties.

"Good luck tonight." her mother said, as she came to the door snuggling her grandson.

"Oh, and the guys were planning on stopping for beer and wings, so I might be late." Pacey added as she hefted the large equipment bag onto her shoulder.

"No worries, we'll both be asleep anyway." her mom replied with a smile.

Her mother wasn't a permanent addition to the household, but Pacey appreciated her help in easing the transition to motherhood, while still trying to restart her athletic career.

Garth got out to help Pacey stow her sticks and bag in the hatchback, then they drove off in silence.

"So, how's Eileen?" Pacey attempted to break the ice by asking about his chatty daughter.

"She's with her mother this week." Garth replied succinctly, falling back to silence.

"So, you and Eileen's mom aren't together anymore?" Pacey inquired, trying to draw him out of his shell.

"Never were." was his curt reply.

Pacey stared at him for a moment, before teasingly stating, "Dude, I've sat through a few sex-ed classes in my day, and that ain't how it works."

She succeeded in drawing a chuckle from him, although he didn't elaborate further. He drove on, but eventually he sensed Pacey's intense stare. He snuck a nervous glance before commenting, "It's a long story."

"Well, you're in luck." she said while clapping excitedly. "Because it's a long drive."

Garth paused to insert a loud, performative sigh, before beginning.

"When I played junior hockey, there were a group of ladies who only dated hockey players."

"Puck bunnies?" she asked.

"I've never used that term." he clarified, momentarily taking his eyes off the road to project his sincerity directly to Pacey.

"But your teammates did?" she cross-examined.

Garth shrugged, then after a prolonged pause, he slowly nodded.

"How old were you?" she asked, realizing that he looked too young to have a daughter as old as Eileen.

"Nineteen." he answered cautiously.

"Just a couple of dumb kids." Pacey commented, but something about the way his cheeks reddened caught her attention. "How old was Eileen's mom?"

"Thirty-eight." Garth whispered.

"Ooooooh!" Pacey shouted, then immediately regretted it. "So did she pick you out, like Susan Sarandon's character in Bull Durham?"

"No." he replied with a wince. "When Eileen was born, five players and one coach had to take paternity tests."

Pacey reached over and gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. No wonder he was timid around ladies.

That night's game went well, resulting in a 5-2 victory. Undefeated in two games!

Afterwards she was in the shower in the referee's room across the hall when she noticed the door move. It only shifted an inch before loudly closing again against the doorframe.

As she struggled to piece together what she was witnessing, she heard the door down the hallway slam, and her door once again opened an inch before rattling closed.

This might have been an old, rundown rink, but apparently the entrances were sealed tight enough that any moving air influenced all the doors.

If the sound of her closing door drew someone's attention, she would have nowhere to hide and be totally exposed in this small room.

She momentarily stood frozen as she wondered if she had legitimately forgotten to lock the room after she entered, or if her subconscious was teasingly playing tricks on her? She had, after all, masturbated to this very scenario after the previous game.

She heard approaching voices in the hallway as she continued to stand under the stream of water. They were obviously members of the opposing team, since her team was in the room directly opposite. Perhaps the other team was a little quicker to vacate the building after a loss.

The smart move would be to jump out of the shower and bound the three or four steps required to reach the door and secure it. Even turning away from the door to reduce her exposure would have been a compromise from what she was currently doing, standing rooted, frozen amid shampooing her hair while her tall, athletic body faced directly toward the door.

She held her ground.

Despite the previous round of self-pleasure while fantasizing about being seen, she didn't consider herself an exhibitionist. However, she couldn't deny the rush of endorphins she was experiencing as her heart rate steadily increased.

A door somewhere opened, and the resulting vacuum once again pulled her door tight with a thud.

The two voices were directly outside the referee's room, and they suddenly fell silent, their attention drawn by the subtle noise.

Two seconds later the door down the hallway closed, and the rush of air made her door open an inch before thumping shut.

"Did the referees forget to lock up?" asked one voice, as Pacey's blood pressure dropped to near zero.

While her previous inaction was caused by excitement and daring, it was panic driving her paralysis now.

"I think they let the Tiger's goalie use the shower." a second voice answered.

"Oh..." replied the first voice in surprise.

All eyes were drawn toward the entrance while an indecisive inertia permeated both sides of the door.

The shower's faucet was equipped with a timer, and when it abruptly cut the flow of water, the shock was enough to trigger Pacey to blink first, as she quickly stumbled across the room to turn the deadbolt, thus ending the standoff.

"You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take." the second voice forlornly quoted Wayne Gretzky.

Unknown to each other, the first voice and Pacey simultaneously nodded their heads in understanding, tinged with regret.

After she returned to the dressing room, everyone packed their gear, vacated the premises and headed for the pub in the basement of the hotel next door. Pacey figured that beer and wings night was a team-building exercise, but in reality, a third of the team went straight home, and a third only stayed for one beer.

This left Pacey, Ronny, Garth, Valeri, and Noah to carry the banner, so to speak.

She learned that Valeri was indeed Russian and was currently enrolled as a 42-year-old student at Pacey's alma mater after spending his entire adult life as a hockey nomad, playing professionally in such obscure hockey outposts as Australia, Iceland, South Korea, and Mexico.

She also discovered that Noah was always 'poshly dressed' because he was a realtor, and that he and Garth had played together as defence partners since their junior hockey days.

"You guys have played together for what... ten years?" Pacey asked Noah.

"Actually fourteen." he answered after doing the mental math. "Wow, time flies, eh Garth?"

Garth, sipping a diet cola as designated driver, silently agreed with a nod of his head.

"And you've been D-partners the whole time?" she inquired, sipping a low-calorie beer since she really was supposed to be in training for a return to the pros.

"No. The first year of junior we were too young, so they didn't trust us together at all." Noah admitted. "But the last thirteen, we've been inseparable."

"Inseparable?" Pacey repeated with a mischievous grin. "So, were you part of the puck bunny orgy?"

Garth had the misfortune of having a mouthful of soda, which resulted in a violent coughing-choking fit. Before he was fully recovered, he managed to cough out a denial, "I... didn't... say... orgy!"

"You said 'five players and one coach' took paternity tests." she shrugged. "I interpreted that as an orgy."

"Audrey didn't do orgies." Noah laughed. "Her body count was accomplished through an incredible volume of one-night stands."

"So did you take a paternity test or not?" Ronny interrupted, suddenly taking an interest in the tawdry tale.

"Yes." Noah laughed, before turning serious. "But Eileen was the big winner, because she ended up with the best dad of the bunch. Plus, 'Uncle Noah' will always be a part of her life."

Ronny made a dismissive gesture to make it clear that he had rapidly lost interest in the now debunked paternity scandal. He instead turned his attention toward Pacey.

"Pacey's husband is a goalie too. We played college hockey together." he commented for the others at the table. "Is Dusty still playing in Florida?"

"No." she replied, finishing one beer, as the bartender seemed to automatically deliver another. "He's playing in Poland this winter."

Unsurprisingly, Valeri had played in the same league, albeit a dozen years prior.

"Cool." Ronny replied, and he did look genuinely impressed. "So, what does Dusty think of you playing with his old buddy, Ron?"

"I'm not going to lie, initially he was worried that I was hanging around with the biggest pervert he ever played with." she deadpanned, eliciting laughter from the group. "But then I let him know that you changed the spelling of your name, as part of the neutering process."

"Don't worry Blondie, nothing has been physically altered." Ronny countered, while giving a little side-eye to his teammates who continued to chuckle. "I'm still swinging the big hammer."

The group around the table all subtly nodded, confirming her suspicion, which she now vocalized. "Still entertaining the locker room with your juvenile penis tricks?"

"When you're a carnival freak, everyone expects a sideshow." he commented with a shrug. Suddenly his manner changed, as he eyed Pacey with a raised eyebrow and a quizzical expression. "Since you're now a member of the locker room, I bet Dusty is getting anxious, wondering if you've had the full Ron experience yet?"

The four men were waiting for her answer, but their interest suddenly piqued when she paused, and her face reddened.

When she finally spoke, she sheepishly admitted, "I didn't exactly mention that we were sharing a dressing room."

"You didn't think this information was important?" Valeri asked, a shocked expression carved into his face. "Your husband knows Ron is zherebets."

When Pacey gave Valeri a questioning look, he grabbed his forearm for emphasis. "Cock like a stallion."

She couldn't just reveal that she withheld information, because she sensed her husband was a little too excited by the idea of Ron teasing her. This would likely embolden him to do just that.

She also couldn't avoid the question altogether, because that would end up heading down the same path.

She looked up to find Ronny holding her with a smug grin, almost like he was reading her thoughts. Improvising, she tried a third option.

"Load management." she blurted out, a rudimentary idea taking shape. "I give him the important details, without overwhelming him with the minutiae."

"That sounds like gaslighting." Ronny casually declared.

"No." Pacey defended herself. "I'm not telling any lies, just managing information."

"In the real estate business, we refer to that as 'non-disclosure.'" challenged Noah with a tip of his head.

"Polupravda - eto tselaya lozh." Valeri added. When four sets of eyes stared blankly back at him, he sighed before translating, "Half-truth is a whole lie."

The guys were shredding load management to pieces, but by this point Pacey was pot committed, so she boldly forged ahead.

"Being teammate to the guy who flirted relentlessly with me at college for four years is a big deal." she stated, looking toward Ronny. "I told Dusty, and he seemed OK with it.

"Now sharing a locker room sounds bad on the surface, but the way Chuck has it set up, everyone has ordinary gym attire on when I show up. So, no nudity. No communal showers. No human helicopters." she added, noticing that Ronny's face lit up when she confirmed that Dusty had shared the details of one of his acts. "Why get Dusty worked up and worrying over something that's been rendered benign?"

As she did a quick scan of their faces, it was fairly obvious that Valeri wasn't picking up what she was putting down. Garth and Noah seemed to have already moved on, likely because they didn't have a vested interest in how communication was handled in her marriage. And Ronny? He looked like he was processing this information and filing it away for exploitation at a later date.

Pacey hadn't had alcohol in the ten months since she learned that she was pregnant, and they were hitting her pretty hard. Since the beer were being automatically delivered, and the empties removed, she couldn't remember if she'd drank three or four (the number was actually five).

When it came time to settle the bar tab, Ronny announced, "This team always takes care of their goalie's bill."

"Thanks for the offer." she said, reaching for her wallet. "But I'm not interested in explaining to Dusty why you, of all people, ended up paying for my drinks."

Pacey was chatty on the car ride home, and due to the effects of alcohol, the ride seemed shorter somehow. Although Garth was quiet, there were signs that he was beginning to open up.

She arrived home to a sleeping house, and once again chose to ease into slumber by rubbing one out to a scenario involving a mishap in the referee's shower. The plot she intended to imagine involved interacting with a couple of strangers, who accidentally walk in on her.

However, her alcohol fueled subconscious refused to conjure forth the two anonymous voices from the hallway. Instead, it was four now familiar teammates who crept into her fantasy...

Pacey talked to her agent the next weekend, and the news was bleak. Hoping that a late-season opportunity would present itself, the opposite was occurring. Two world class goalies were returning from injuries, and that would mean they would bump two more netminders to join her on the unemployment line.

The job market in Europe was similarly dry. It was looking like she was going to have to wait until next season.

This led to an interesting discussion with Murph during their next training session.

"It just sucks." Pacey said in frustration. "I feel so comfortable on the ice, like the puck is as big as a beach ball."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Murph barked in surprise.

"Yes." she relented. "But I've been waiting two years for my big break, and now that I'm playing well enough to seize that opportunity, I'm stuck here. It feels like I'm wasting the best run of my career."

"I disagree." he said, putting his arm across her shoulders to show his support. "I think this is the best development in your career.

"You've played full-time since you were a kid and maybe reached a plateau." Murph continued, turning to look her directly in the eyes. "Taking the time off has been a bit of a reset.

"You're talking like an imposter on a hot streak, who knows they'll eventually come crashing back to earth." he said, emotion flooding his voice. "What you have to understand, is that when an elite athlete finally 'figures it out', this is how it begins to feel all the time."

Murph's daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren live in vaguely the same direction as the rink. The following week they invited him to skip the carpool in favor of having dinner with his grandkids before heading to the rink. Afterwards, he didn't have to wait around while Pacey and Garth were changing and showering. When this resulted in him getting to bed an hour earlier than the previous week, it became his Tuesday night routine.

Pacey picked up Garth, and they were halfway to the rink when her mother called.

"There's a pink gym bag on the kitchen counter." her mother announced. "Do you need that?"

Pacey winced. She'd bought the small bag to discreetly carry her clothes at the rink, but now she had left the bag and her workout clothing behind. Her eyes flicked towards the dashboard clock. Returning home was a no-go.

"Don't worry, mom." she said while formulating a contingency plan. "I'll make do."

She did have a spare set of leggings in the car, so she was set... from the waist down, at least.

She could have gotten by with just a sports bra, but the lacy, underwired garment she was currently wearing would not do the trick. Fortunately, they hadn't left the population center behind.

"Garth, we're going bra shopping."

She figured a large department store would be her only option on a Tuesday evening in the winter, but was surprised to find a lingerie shop in a strip mall still open. It was, predictably, deserted.

She correctly guessed that the lone person working at Gail's Lingerie, was the store's namesake.

Gail's face lit up when they entered, and she came around the counter to assist them.

"I forgot my sports bra at home." Pacey declared, before nonchalantly adding, "I'm looking for something in a C-cup."

"I don't think that's quite right." Gail said with a puzzled look as she stood back to examine Pacey's chest. Reaching for the cloth measuring tape hanging around her neck, she asked, "Do you mind if I get a proper measurement?"

"Sure." Pacey replied, as she removed her coat and passed it to Garth. She then extended her arms out to the sides, allowing Gail to measure first her ribcage, then her chest.

Garth took an interest in the procedure, without being too obvious.

"You're actually a D-cup." Gail revealed, with a nod.

"Oh, ya..." Pacey exclaimed with sudden understanding. "I forgot to mention that I recently gave birth."

"Well congratulations to both of you!" Gail said, mistakenly jumping to the obvious conclusion. "Our chests don't always return to the same size after childbirth."

Garth's eyes went wide in panic over the misunderstanding, but Pacey just winked at him and played along.

"Our son has his daddy's eyes." Pacey teased.

"Lucky kid." Gail commented, while playfully slapping Garth's bicep. Then, she immediately got back to business, leading Pacey toward the sports bra section. "We currently have a 'buy one, get one half off' promotion."

Pacey looked through the assortment, before settling on a style she liked: racerback, with a long torso.

"What color do you like, dear?" Pacey teased Garth a bit more.

After he picked neon green, Pacey headed for the fitting room to try it on, calling over her shoulder, "Let him pick something nice for the other half of the promotion."

Inside the fitting room, Pacey rapidly stripped to the waist. The fluorescent undergarment was a pullover style that lacked zippers or clasps, so it took a bit of work to wrestle her way inside. It fit perfectly, and despite the flashy color, she felt it would be conservative enough to wear around the team without an outer layer.

Satisfied, she was preparing to remove it, when she heard a knock on the doorframe. The curtain slid aside, and Gail's face suddenly appeared.

"Oh, that looks good." Gail complimented, before asking, "How does it feel?"

"Fits like a glove." Pacey replied, only now noticing that Garth was standing behind Gail, still holding her jacket, while also 'admiring the fit.'

She fixed him with a raised eyebrow, but it was a couple of seconds before he noticed, after which he immediately averted his gaze.

"This is the one your husband selected." Gail announced, "The guys always end up in the lingerie section, so that's where we started."

Pacey looked at the bra she had been passed, which amounted to two underwires and a bit of red gauzy material.

"I'll give you two a little privacy." Gail said, before tugging the curtain across. "I'll meet you up front."

Despite the perfect fit, Pacey once again struggled to remove the first undergarment, getting it to shoulder height before having to hop and shrug her way out of it. She then tried on the second one, securing it much easier with the front closure.

She may have considered modeling it for Garth if there had only been a shadow of a nipple visible, attempting to draw him a little further out of his shell with her pure audacity. But that wasn't the image reflecting back at her through the mirror.

Pacey could see the size, shape and colour of her nipples and areolas, along with being able to discern every bump of her Montgomery glands. She didn't have freckles, moles or scars on her boobs, but if she did, she would be able to count each blemish individually.

This essentially left her with the equivalent of nude breasts, albeit with incredible lift and support.

Sure, she had fantasized about exposing herself to teammates recently, but she had plenty of reasons not to make it a reality.

Right off the top, she was married.

... and a mother.

There was also the team dynamic to worry about.

If none of those issues were a factor, she would still have to worry about Garth's load management. Because, while she was trying to slowly help him drop his guard, this much exposure might have the complete opposite effect, the equivalent of a groundhog seeing its shadow.

As she was reaching for the front closure of the bra, her peripheral vision finally noticed the partially open curtain. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she looked up into the mirror and locked eyes with Garth.

He stood rooted in his original spot outside the fitting room, and he gave her an awkward shrug.

"I thought Gail closed the curtain." Pacey nervously explained, trying to keep her voice calm and even so she didn't scare him into six more weeks of silence. At no point did she attempt to cover herself.

"She thinks we're married." he replied, apparently handling the situation more calmly than Pacey could. "She probably didn't think the curtain being completely closed was important."

"How much did you see?" she asked, wondering if he had witnessed her jumping, squirming, and wriggling in her effort to escape the sports bra. As his face lit up, she had all the answers she required.

Pacey winced in embarrassment, fearing the display had been the least erotic display of nudity in recorded history.

You'd be hard pressed to convince Garth of that, however.

"Well, if we've gone this far, you may as well give me your opinion." she said, turning with a wry smile. She hadn't meant to be this blatant, but pride wouldn't let her become a shrinking violet. She moved her hands to her hips, deciding that if he was going to see her, at least she was going to take ownership and control how she was displayed.

He lowered his eyes, drinking in the view for perhaps ten seconds, before slowly nodding his head, stating, "They're absolutely perfect."

"The bra." Pacey laughed, rubbing her forehead and looking at the ceiling in mock frustration. "You were supposed to be giving your opinion on the bra."

He risked another look, bringing his hand up to stroke his chin in contemplation. "I'd like to see it in a few different colors."

"In your dreams, perv." she joked, instantly recognizing the irony of the statement, since this would likely play a part in her fantasies as well.

Taking a deep breath, she decided, 'in for a penny, in for a pound' as she released the front clasp and shrugged out of the lingerie. She bent to retrieve the sports bra, then held the two undergarments out to him.

"Tell Gail, I'll take both." she instructed. As he walked away, she lingered topless in the open doorframe. After he'd moved perhaps ten feet, she drew his gaze one final time, calling, "And not a fucking word about this to anyone."

When she reached the front counter, Gail passed her a fancy bag, adding, "The receipt is inside."

Pacey glanced toward Garth as she accepted the package. She hadn't intended for him to pay for the undergarments and ordinarily would consider the exchange of lingerie between a man and a married woman to be 'over the line'. However, in this instance, she felt like he owed her at least this much.

The remainder of the ride to the rink was a quiet one, with both of them mulling over the events that had transpired inside Gail's tiny lingerie shop.

Arriving at the rink, Garth poked his head in the room first, then signaled Pacey that it was ok to enter.

She immediately grabbed her improvised base layer and entered the cramped bathroom stall. Her leggings went on without incident, but the sports bra was an even bigger production in these cramped confines, as she thumped against the door a few times, dangerously testing the primitive latch.

When she finally emerged, Ronny immediately addressed her new attire.

"It's fitting that you're wearing green." he deadpanned. "With all that thrashing around, it sounded like you were transforming into the Hulk."

"It's difficult to stuff those into this." she replied with a laugh, acknowledging her tits in front of the team for the first time.

"They seem to have grown since college." Ronny correctly observed, as he continued to ogle her chest. "Don't wear something that's too restrictive on our account. We're all for making the locker room an environment where everyone can feel comfortable."

Sitting beside Pacey, Garth tried to subtly clear his throat, it having suddenly gone dry at the mere reminder of the bra gymnastics he had witnessed earlier. Instead, the sound that emitted was more like a rebuke, as if he was objecting to Ronny's remark.

All eyes, even those that had previously been focused on Pacey's neon green covered chest, now turned to Garth. When he didn't speak further, it was Noah that stepped forward instead.

"I agree with Garth, it's time to focus on tonight's game." he spoke with authority. "The last time we faced these guys, they ran up the score when we had to use Ron as goalie. We owe them a lesson in humility."

They definitely were taught a lesson, in a 12-2 shellacking. Ronny was on a mission, seeking personal retribution for the earlier humiliation. He led the way, scoring five goals.

Murph left at the end of the second period, deciding that not much could be learned after the opponents effectively gave up trying, and the game became sloppy.

Pacey showered (taking care to properly lock the door), had another quiet drive home, then enjoyed a little self-pleasure reliving the events at Gail's Lingerie shop.

Video calls have done wonders for helping to keep long-distance relationships working, but couples still face challenges when they are living on separate continents. Namely, the time zones.

If Pacey was feeling particularly frisky at bedtime, she realized that it would be nearly dawn in Poland. Today, Dusty had initiated the call before turning in for the night (mid-afternoon for Pacey) with a simple text:

DUSTY: [Do you have time to join me online for a little 'us' time before bed? Wear the new red bra.]

She had shared a sanitized version of her bra shopping adventure at Gail's, confessing that she had let Garth pick out a piece of lingerie, while 'load managing' the part where he had seen her both with and without the garment.

She now regretted the omission, because, for the second day in a row she was about to do something Dusty would believe to be a 'role-playing fantasy', when in reality she would be reliving something she had actually experienced.

She briefly considered coming clean, since her husband obviously seemed to be into this type of thing. Heck, according to her recent spank bank activity, apparently she was too. However, she was now coming to the realization, belatedly, that you only get one crack at 'open & honest'. That ship had now sailed.

Pacey went into her bedroom, locked the door, and put on her infamous red bra. She slipped into a hoodie, only zipping it halfway, then called her husband.

"Very nice." Dusty complimented, getting directly into character. "I love the way it fits you."

"Thank you." she replied, noticing that he was putting on an accent, which was bizarre since he hadn't met Garth, and didn't know what he sounded like. "Good eye picking the color."

"I can barely see it." he commented, his voice dripping with mischief. "Drop the hoodie, Sugar-tits."

'Sugar-tits!' Pacey now realized that Dusty had replaced Garth, someone he didn't know, with someone he did. She decided to play along.

"I can't do that Ronny." she protested, although her tone indicated that she would in fact, obey. "I'm a married woman."

"If Dusty was here right now," he said, while he was in fact, right there, "He'd agree that I deserve to see the bra that I helped pick out."

"Well, I can't argue with that logic." she teased as she slowly lowered the zipper and let the hoodie slip down her arms.

"Damn girl!" Dusty reacted, before getting back into character. "I've wanted to see those sweet tits for a long time."

"Would you like to bring this to the front and pay for it while I'm getting dressed?" she coyly asked as she opened the front clasp and spread the cups apart. She hadn't intended to blur the line between fantasy and reality but had become inspired.

"No." Dusty's voice cracked, as he stared at his wife's naked tits. After trying, and failing, to regain his composure, he continued in a quiet voice. "Put it back on and wear it to the rink tonight."

"What are you expecting?" she asked tentatively, realizing that they were no longer role-playing. "Surely you don't really want me showing my boobs to Ronny, of all people?"

"He doesn't have to see it." Dusty said, somewhat avoiding the question. "But you'll know that you're wearing it. And I'll know. And your carpool buddy will probably suspect that you are."

Pacey slowly brought the cups together, then secured the clasp. A step was taken; would consequences follow?

Garth picked her up later that evening, and while she does remember chatting during the drive, she doesn't recall any details of the conversation.

All she could really recollect was being hyper-aware of sitting beside Garth while wearing his bra at the request of her husband.

When they arrived at the rink, they discovered that the parking lot was full. After two fruitless laps of the complex, Garth eventually unloaded Pacey and their gear at the front door, before parking on a side street a block away.

Inside they discovered that the local community was hosting their annual winter carnival, and over the years the Thursday night beer league game had surpassed the ice sculpture competition and the snow maze in popularity.

Eleven-hundred people might not sound like a lot, but wedged into this old barn, it would be a full house.

The crowd was loud and raucous, hoping for a little rough play, and possibly a few fights. Instead, a hockey game broke out.

The Tigers opponents, the Bruins, were currently in first place, having lost only one game all season. The Tigers were mired in the middle of the pack, mostly because of the long stretch they played without a full-time goalie but were now capable of playing at this level.

When Pacey's gender was discovered, the novelty of a woman playing in a men's league turned her into a fan-favorite, with a cheer going up every time she stopped the puck.

The game remained scoreless through two periods, before Valeri finally opened the scoring with under five minutes to play. Ronny added another into the empty net with a dozen seconds remaining to seal the 2-0 victory.

The two teams had played a tough, clean contest that had won over the crowd, but now that the Bruins loss was sealed, they dispatched one of their plugs to send a message.

The guy, Stu, had spent most of the night collecting dust at the end of the bench, and was more than willing to appease the rowdier element in the stands who had originally showed up expecting a fight.

With the clock running out, he needed to act fast. The quickest way to start a hockey fight is by breaking one of the cardinal rules, the chief amongst them is 'don't fuck with another team's goalie.'

And that's what Stu chose to do, waiting until a couple of beats after the final buzzer to blast a slapshot past Pacey's ear... except this was his first shot in over an hour and instead of whistling harmlessly past her head, it caught her high in the torso.

Stu had seen quite a few big, masculine goalies turn into pussies, rolling around on the ice if you dared touch them. He was getting preemptively pissed off about her diva antics, when she did something much worse: she didn't react at all.

Seriously annoyed, he adjusted his path intending to lay a shoulder into the bitch. A proper cartwheeling would surely put her in her place, with the added bonus that she might become so fearful of players skating near her, that she would lose focus on the puck. This attack was an investment for the next time the teams met. Stu was playing the long game. However, before he could crash into her, Garth blocked his path.

Knocking the big defender atop his own goalie was a solid plan B, however, the impact was akin to running into an oak tree. Garth never wavered.

Stu had actually come down the left side of the ice when planning his headhunting trip, because he wanted Noah to be the closest guy to the scene of the crime, making him honor bound to step in and defend his goalie.

He would have had a distinct size advantage over Noah. However, he wasn't totally disappointed that Garth was his opponent, since he had the reputation of being a nice guy... a quality Stu considered 'soft.'

"You wanna go?" was the challenge he tried to utter, but he ate Garth's meaty fist mid-sentence.

Stu grabbed onto Garth's jersey to limit the movement of his right arm as the second punch connected with the end of his nose.

'Fuck' he thought, or perhaps he said aloud, as he realized that he had chosen to fight a southpaw, meaning that his grip on the jersey was all wrong.

Stu was a lot of things, but tenacious wasn't one of them. When the third punch cleanly found its way through his meager defenses, he was done.

Stu bent over, to protect his now tenderized face, while still clutching Garth's jersey. He chanced a look toward one of the officials and raised an eyebrow, signaling his desire to be extricated from his predicament at their earliest possible leisure.

With his opponent turtled, and imploring the linesmen for rescue, Garth went windmill style, the final punch coming from below to bloody Stu's nose.

The Bruins had dispatched Stu, intending to send a message. However, the memo that was received loud and clear by the whole league, was, 'you don't fuck with the Tiger's goalie.'

The raucous crowd cheered in appreciation for an entertaining evening as the team's left the ice.

Inside the dressing room, spirits were high. Pacey had her first shutout, Garth had taught Stu a harsh lesson, and the win over a first-place team confirmed that the Tigers had turned the corner.

Pacey, however, was watching her agitated carpool partner pacing around the room, with concern.

"He's still feeling the effects of the adrenaline dump." Ronny revealed, after catching her eye. "He'll be amped up for a while yet."

"It's Thursday night." Valeri announced. "How many of you are going across the road for beer and wings?"

"I've played the winter carnival game before." Noah revealed. "A lot of the fans from tonight are over there, so Garth and Pacey could probably drink for free. But, by the time we're done showering, there'll be a 45-minute lineup waiting to get in."

"Fuck that." Ronny groaned. "I have a beer fridge in my basement. It won't keep us going all night, but you're all welcome to come until we run out."

Pacey went across the hall for another uneventful shower, but when it came time to get dressed, she was once again confronted by the red bra.

Agreeing to wear it tonight had seemed like a harmless way to tease Dusty. And it still was, because she didn't plan on anyone else seeing it. But going to Ron's house, she knew that she would constantly be aware of its presence.

In the end, it was only the regular five from the previous week who made the ten-minute drive to Ronny's house.

They received the ten-cent tour, including the room 'where the magic happens.' Then they headed for the basement.

Pacey wasn't sure why a bachelor required a 'man cave', since that could describe his whole house. She figured that his single status must have been a recent development.

The room consisted of the quintessential man cave staples; big screen TV, card table, reclining sofa, pool table, plus the aforementioned beer fridge.

What she didn't expect was the poster-sized nude portrait of the host.

He was wearing only skates and was on the ice surface at the arena the Tigers play out of. He was carrying a large trophy above his head in the darkened hockey rink. Apparently, a nude victory lap.

A very large sticky note had been placed on the portrait to obscure his infamous appendage.

"You can lift the Post-it and have a peek." Ronny teased when he saw what had caught her attention. "It's natural to be curious. We're non-judgmental here."

She looked away, only to notice Valeri once again grab his forearm to emphasize Ronny's size. He lifted an eyebrow and nodded slowly.

"It's a team tradition." Ronny revealed. "Everyone does a nude victory lap after their first league title."

"All of you have done this?" Pacey asked, with a quizzical look directed toward Garth.

He nodded with a self-deprecating shrug.

"Only Ronny asked for a photo." Noah added. "The rest of us wait until Chuck has closed up, then fulfill the ritual under the cover of darkness."

"How often do you win this league?" she asked incredulously.

"Five of the last seven." answered Ronny with a smug grin. "And we will only have one person due for their 'first' title if we win this year."

"Not going to happen." Pacey replied with a chuckle while looking back-and-forth between the four men. "Dream on boys."

Since Garth was sticking to soda as designated driver, Ronny's bar fridge was able to provide for the four drinkers until one o'clock, when Ronny reluctantly made the last call.

The pool table had become the center of attention, with Noah and Valeri as opponents for the final game of the night. Garth, Pacey, and Ronny were cheering them on from the sofa.

Pacey may have had a few too many beverages, because she could blame no one other than herself for steering the conversation towards her boobs.

"Did I mention that Garth picked out the sports bra I wore Tuesday night?" she teased Ronny.

"No, you didn't mention anything." he replied, looking past her toward Garth, who avoided eye contact. "What does 'picked out' mean Garth? Was she modeling them so you could see what you liked?"

Pacey had sworn Garth to secrecy, a pact he was honoring even now, after she had brought it up. Of course, silence is something he practices easily.

"That wasn't the intent, he was only supposed to pick them off the rack." she revealed, now realizing that the pool game had paused, the players captivated by her tale. "But the shop owner kept opening the damn curtain."

"And your husband still lets you guys carpool together?" Valeri inquired. When he noticed Pacey's cheeks flush, he accused, "You load managed him again, didn't you?"

"I did tell him we made an emergency stop to go bra shopping." she allowed. "I told you gentlemen the same tale, and both Ronny and yourself immediately responded by asking relevant follow up questions, seeking clarification. If my juicy confession didn't inspire a similar frantic push for details from Dusty, that's partially on him, isn't it?"

"I have a 'relevant follow up question.'" Ronny cheekily declared, but once again leaned past her. "Was that really your best effort, Garth? I'm sure that bra is very comfortable and utilitarian. But you also had a solemn duty to the team to choose something a little more... titillating."

"You should see the other one he picked." she blurted out, drunkenly enjoying the attention. "It was practically see-through."

The other three men now turned toward Garth, and his 'cat-that-ate-the-canary' grin was the closest he came to revealing information all night.

"Actually, 'practically see-through' is probably an understatement." she teased, before whispering. "It was completely transparent."

"So you say." Ronny declared, while petulantly crossing his arms. He had been breathlessly trying to talk Pacey out of her clothes for most of his adult life, and now, apparently, the ever-silent Garth had weaseled a viewing of her tits in mere weeks. Staying persistent, he demanded, "We would have to see this mysterious undergarment, to judge for ourselves."

"You're in luck." she purred. "I'm wearing it tonight."

She was enjoying the feeling of complete control as she flirtatiously drew them along, but she had never intended to get this far. However, as she looked into their expectant faces, she realized that her alcohol-fueled teasing was rapidly painting herself into a corner.

The room got perfectly quiet as she raised her t-shirt to the bottom of her ribcage.

She paused to scan their faces, seeing three sets of eyes looking on in anticipation, while Ronny fixed her with a smug, triumphant grin.

She reached her right hand under her clothing to unclasp the front closure of the red lingerie. Three faces continued to breathlessly enjoy the show, however, suspicion bled through Ronny's expression, like he expected her to suddenly yell, 'April Fools!'

She lowered her top. When she pulled her arm into the sleeve to begin removing her shoulder straps, the jig was up.

Her four teammates playfully booed at her subterfuge, before falling silent when she placed the meager scraps of material on the table.

Ronny reached for it, holding the undergarment in front of his eyes as he easily scanned the room. Satisfied that it was indeed, very transparent, he lowered it enough to lock eyes with Garth, declaring, "You lucky sonovabitch."

Garth returned a subtle salute, acknowledging the comment.

Pacey reached for her bra, but Ronny pulled it back, then held it away from her, guarding it with his body.

"You already have it off, why not just show us the goods?" he asked, gesturing toward her now unrestrained tits. "We wouldn't want Garth getting an ego, thinking he was more special than any of your other teammates."

"Playoffs are right around the corner, we might as well wait until my victory lap." she teased, not actually intending to follow through.

"You do realize, if you do it tonight, you only have four witnesses?" Ronny reminded her, making a case for his instant gratification. "If you wait for the victory lap, the full team will be there."

"I'm not showing my tits to the whole team." Pacey conceded, seeming like she was actually considering this.

"And while tonight you would only be briefly topless, a traditional victory lap is done stark naked." Ronny added, trying to help coax Pacey out of her top by favorably comparing the flash with a more serious exposure.

"But a victory lap only happens 'if' we win." Pacey reasoned, while fixing Ronny with a coquettish grin. "I'd feel rather foolish flashing my tits tonight, only for us to eventually get eliminated from the post-season."

Ronny tried to use the opening to enter into drunken negotiations, hoping to secure a viewing of her body at some point before the end of the season, but Pacey was brooking no argument.

With the beer fridge empty, and Pacey refusing to put on a topless show, the night was winding down. Since Garth was the only sober driver, Ronny showed Valeri and Noah to his spare rooms.

Pacey decided to empty her bladder before hitting the road, and when she emerged from the washroom, Garth decided to do likewise.

Alone in the basement for the first time, she was once again confronted by the nude portrait of Ronny, with just a sticky note to hide his infamous cock.

Pacey would like to believe that if she had been sober, she could have resisted the urge to peek underneath the yellow privacy flap. But with liquid courage mischief on board, she was powerless to pass up the opportunity to view what Dusty had referred to as Ronny's 'cartoonishly large appendage'.

She walked toward the poster, then checked to make sure that she was still alone, before lifting the bottom of the Post-it.

'Cartoonishly large' was an apt description, because even flaccid it was twice the size of anything she had seen before.

She drunkenly wondered if Ronny was still a virgin, assuming that he had been limited to a lifetime of hand jobs. Because try as she might, she couldn't imagine this behemoth fitting into any orifice of the human body.

Suddenly startled by the sound of someone descending the steps to the basement, she fumbled with the sticky note, then watched in horror as it detached and floated gently to the floor, landing sticky side down on the only rug in the whole room.

She knelt to grab the yellow paper, then hastily slapped it back into place, but it failed to attach. Flipping it quickly over, she noticed that the adhesive strip was now coated in lint. Panicking, she rushed to remove the largest pieces, then vigorously smacked it back onto the wall, hoping that brute force could overcome the fuzzy contamination.

She was successful, in a very broad definition of that term, for while the Post-it did reaffix, her drunken aim made it so Ronny's modesty would only be protected from the prying eyes of bellybutton voyeurs.

She risked one final, hurried adjustment, but the abused adhesive had been pushed past its limits, and the scrap of paper once again fell to the floor.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" inquired Ronny's voice from across the room. "Curious to see what all the fuss was about?"

With Pacey kneeling, eye level with the image of his impressive equipment, she couldn't muster much more than a self-deprecating shrug.

"And?" he prompted. "What'd you think?"

With nothing to lose since she'd already been caught, she took a second, more prolonged look at the portrait, focusing on the organ at the center of the photo.

"The guy in the photo," she teased, purposely acting like the subject was some random, anonymous, third party, "... is smiling, and it appears that he has a lot to be happy about."

"Yes, he certainly does." Ronny agreed, regarding Pacey with a shit-eating grin. He then asked, "Remember back in college when we agreed, 'I'll show you mine, if you show me yours'?"

"That's not what happened!" she replied dismissively. "You proposed that arrangement, but I didn't accept."

"And yet, here we are..." he retorted, indicating towards the portrait once more.

"That's only a photo..." she protested, as she stole another look.

"And I'm willing to accept a photo in return." he declared, offering his hand to shake on the deal.

"I am not sending you, of all people, an explicit photo." she said firmly, while crossing her arms and unintentionally framing her unrestrained chest.

"Me 'of all people'?" he quoted her, with a raised eyebrow. "Let's get something straight, Sugar-tits. I'll admit that I've been intrigued by what's hiding under your clothing since the day we met. But I've always asked for permission to satisfy my curiosity.

"You, on the other hand, snuck over and removed that little privacy tab without first seeking my approval." he continued, smiling inwardly as he caught her glancing in that direction once again. "If you can just muster the self-restraint to avert your eyes from my man-bits for a minute, maybe we can negotiate a resolution to this stalemate?"

Negotiation.

That is what he had turned this into. As Ronny continued sending out trial balloons, Pacey repeatedly set boundaries that she was unwilling to cross, without ever shutting him down completely and walking away from the table.

He kept probing.

"So, you don't want to do anything tonight, but are open to a victory lap if we win the title. You don't want to involve the whole team, but are open to something including just the Thursday night crew. And nobody keeps any photos." he rattled off quickly. "Let's shake on that much, and we can work out the rest of the details as the season progresses."

He reached out his hand, but she didn't take it right away. Even though alcohol was clouding her decision making, and a hint of sexual tension was affecting her judgment, it still felt like the deal was lopsided.

"And what am I getting out of this?" she asked for clarification.

"We reinstate the 'goalies drink for free' policy, I forgive you for looking under the Post-it without permission, and you owe nothing in return if we don't win the title."

Having already forgotten most of the details from the other side of the deal, she was suddenly struck by the belief that perhaps she had out negotiated him. She grabbed his hand and sealed the deal.

Just as they were shaking, Garth returned. After using the washroom, he had gone outside to warm up the car.

"We ready?" he inquired.

Pacey nodded then walked back to the couch to grab her jacket, then suddenly remembered that Ronny still hadn't relinquished her bra.

"How much of tonight are you sharing with Dusty?" Ronny asked her.

That was a fairly solid question.

She had ended up drunk and braless in Ronny's house. Not her proudest hour, but it sounded way worse than it actually was. She might even be able to frame it as if she was doing this for him, since Dusty was the one who had encouraged her to wear the flimsy red bra tonight. However, if the bra discussion got too in-depth, she might inadvertently reveal that the guys here knew more about the bra shopping adventure than he did.

She had also drunkenly negotiated a possible, future, nude exposure and saw a photo of Ronny's cock.

Everything she could share was a potential minefield.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and walked over to the portrait of Ronny during his victory lap. She used her left hand to preserve his modesty, glancing over her shoulder to tease him with a raised eyebrow. She then snapped a pic.

"I'll send that to Dusty and see what sort of 'relevant follow-up questions' he asks." she said with a chuckle. "I'll share as much or as little as his curiosity demands."

"Since you already broke the no photography rule, let's send him another." Ronny challenged her.

Pacey stood between the two men, ready to take a selfie, when Ronny produced her sexy red bra, which he held by one end, while Garth held the other.

One picture would have led to 'relevant' questions, Pacey feared these two photos together might cause a flood of questions. Looking at the phone's screen, she instructed, "Move closer together."

She snapped the photo, then enlarged it to get a better view.

Pacey had been fairly carefree in removing her red undergarment, and leaving it off, under the assumption that her youth and athleticism would obscure her unencumbered state. But the woman staring back at her in the photo was obviously braless.

This was partially due to the softer, more natural lines of her breasts. Additionally, her chest was topped by a pair of very prominent, very erect nipples.

"Send them." Ronny encouraged with a nudge.

He had been aiming for a gentle elbow to her ribs, but his beer addled coordination was no better than hers. His upper arm contacted the side of her t-shirt clad boob, and all three sets of eyes watched in fascination until the jiggling motion of her left breast finally ceased.

"Oops." Ronny muttered, although his face showed that he was rather pleased by the fortuitous accident. He then repeated, sans nudge, "Send them."

The contact with her boob had temporarily distracted her, and she hit the send button on both photos without further consideration.

At no point did it cross her mind that Dusty would soon awaken to find these photos waiting on his phone, only to be met with several hours of silence, while she slept through his myriad of 'relevant follow-up questions'.

The following morning, Pacey did indeed awake to a phone that had blown up with the aforementioned 'relevant follow-up questions'.

She was still hungover from the previous evening, and she decided to take a shower to get her wits about her before facing the music.

She had a pretty solid inventory of the events of the previous night, including the handshake deal with Ronny to do a victory lap if they won the championship. She would have to weasel her way out of that one.

Standing under the spray of the warm shower, she suddenly had a vague recollection of lifting her shirt on the drive home to show Garth the bruise from Stu's late slapshot, inadvertently showing him her bare tits for the second time this week.

The bruise was on her collarbone, and had probably been visible above her neckline, so lifting the shirt didn't make sense. She hoped that it was a false memory conjured from her dreams but made the decision to cut back on the Thursday night beer drinking anyway.

Her mother and son were headed out for a walk when Pacey finally made the call to Dusty.

They danced around the purpose for the call, catching up on everything else, including her first shutout, Stu's sneak attack, and Garth immediately stepping up with the brutal beatdown.

After that, an awkward pause interrupted the call.

"I don't know where to start." Dusty commented tentatively.

"Start where you like." Pacey replied with a disarming smile. "I'll fill in all the details."

"You wore the bra like I asked you to." he stated nervously. "How did it end up coming off?"

"The beer was flowing, and I decided to tease them with the detail that Garth had picked out my lingerie." she narrated, before changing tone to play with Dusty. "They wanted to see it, and being completely transparent, I couldn't very well show them while I was wearing it now, could I?"

"So, no one actually saw your tits?" he asked.

She sensed that Dusty craved to hear the details of someone catching a glimpse of his wife's magnificent rack, but she wondered if another part of him dreaded that very thing.

Garth had indeed seen them... perhaps more than once and revealing (maybe one of) those incidents, would be an opportunity to test Dusty's resolve.

However, she still didn't know if this was going to be a conversation that explored their various kinks, or if it would morph into an interrogation of her misbehavior. With so many 'relevant follow-up questions' still to come, Pacey was reluctant to escalate things this early.

"No." she whispered.

"Really?" was his dejected reply. After hours of staring at the photos and imagining how they had occurred, the 'truth' was deflating. "You don't think it's possible someone accidentally caught a peek when you were pulling the bra out from under your shirt?"

"Anything is possible, I guess." was her concession. "Garth was on the side I removed it from, so if anyone saw something it would have been him."

"And he didn't say anything?" Dusty prompted.

"Hell no." she laughed. "He doesn't talk much, even when we're in the car."

"And you finally saw a picture of Ronny's cock?" he blurted out, changing the subject for her.

"Yes." she replied, then decided it was safe to go full disclosure on this point, putting a self-deprecating spin on her humorous retelling of sneaking a peek, then getting busted by the sticky note that didn't live up to its billing.

"It looks like he was carrying a trophy." Dusty commented.

"Yes, apparently the Tiger's have a traditional 'victory lap' when you win your first title." After her Post-it note story, the mood was light, and Pacey decided that she had nothing to hide.

"Do they expect you to do it?" Dusty probed tentatively. "Would you do it?"

"It's Ronny, of course he expects me to do it." she chuckled, before turning serious. "But I promise you that I won't do that."

"I didn't ask for a promise." he shrugged, trying to keep the mood light, but he was betrayed by his breaking voice.

"It probably won't matter anyway, because the losing streak they endured before I arrived might have already condemned us to the consolation tournament." Pacey rationalized, referring to what happens to teams who don't qualify for the league playoffs. She dryly added, "And I ain't getting naked for a damn loser's bracket trophy."

"You could always pretend to be willing to do a victory lap just to tease Ronny." he suggested nervously. "Worst comes to worst, you give up a couple of soft goals if you have to lose a game late in the season."

And that, surprisingly, was the extent of Dusty's follow-up questions.

When Dusty had suggested throwing a game, Pacey seriously doubted that she could bring herself to do it, even in a beer league. She had kept that suspicion to herself.

Over the weekend, that plan completely imploded.

Several fans had posted videos of Thursday night's game online, and the 'milf dominating in a men's league' angle had caused two to go viral. One was a medley of her best saves, while the other was of Stu's attack, followed by Garth's swift justice.

Her agent had used Pacey's temporary infamy to shop the videos around, and after garnering some interest on both sides of the pond, he had gone further.

"No one is sending a scout from Europe to watch a beer league." Vic relented, "So I'm donating equipment so the rink can be livestreamed."

"Can we afford that?" Pacey wondered aloud.

"The arena is run by a non-profit." he revealed, with a self-satisfied grin. "It'll be a tax write off."

With potential teams following her progress, she wasn't going to risk giving up any easy goals. She would have to talk her way out of the victory lap exposure... after teasing Ronny for a few weeks.

Two added benefits to the livestream were Murph's ability to watch any games he couldn't attend in person, as well as his ability to save video, so they could break down tape together at Pacey's next training session.

Something that didn't change was their winning ways.

Tuesday night was another easy win against an inferior opponent, but Murph was relentless in his tape breakdown the following day.

"You can't let your guard down just because the other team doesn't bring their A-game." he chastised. "Especially now that scouts are watching."

"Here's what your post work looked like in the first period, textbook RVH." he commented, referring to her 'reverse-vertical-horizontal' stance when the puck was behind the goal line. "And here's how you half-assed it once the score got out of reach. You were damned lucky they didn't score on this play."

She cringed as she watched the replay, the proof of her letting up plain to see. "That won't happen again Murph."

"Damned straight it won't." was his harsh rebuke.

On Thursday night the Tigers were the team who didn't bring their A-game, and it was up to Pacey to bail them out, time and again, as she weathered the initial storm.

After being dominated for two periods, the real Tigers showed up in the third, pulling away to a three-goal victory, as Pacey recorded her second consecutive Thursday night shutout.

Without the Winter Carnival crowd to contend with, they returned to the pub across the road after the game. When only the regular five attended, Pacey assumed that nobody had spilled any details of the previous week's adventures.

They settled into a booth, Pacey and Garth sitting on one side, Noah and Valeri on the other. Ronny grabbed a chair from an empty table, spun it around backwards, and sat at the open end of the booth.

After a few rounds of beverages had been consumed, Valeri finally picked up on an overlooked detail.

"Garth is drinking beer, and Pacey is drinking soda." he commented in confusion. "You pregnant again?"

"No." Pacey laughed in shock at his forthright question. "I'm driving... tonight is Garth's reward for defending me from Stu last week."

"Last week Garth was chauffeuring a drunk, braless chick." Ronny stated flatly. "I don't think you understand how reward systems work, because having a fully dressed, sober gal to drive him around is a massive downgrade."

"While we're on the topic of 'the drunk chick'..." Pacey teased, pausing as she turned toward Garth. "It's a bit fuzzy, but... did I actually lift my shirt on the way home to show you my bruise?"

All eyes turned to Garth expectantly.

"I could see the bruise above your collar, and I asked if Stu had caused it." he replied animatedly. "Then all of a sudden, 'whuuup', up goes your shirt."

This was as many words as she'd ever heard him speak at once, and he wasn't finished.

"We're sitting at a red-light, your tits are out, there's a courier in the lane beside us honking at you, then I glance in the mirror, and there's a police car sitting behind us." he added excitedly. "I really thought that we were getting pulled over."

Apparently, this guy gets downright chatty when you add alcohol, thought Pacey.

"He saw them AGAIN?!" cried Ronny in disbelief. "What the hell do the rest of us have to do to get a peek?"

"I guess you just have to hope this season ends in a victory lap." Pacey purred, following Dusty's suggestion to tease Ronny about that particular scenario.

As Ronny petulantly brooded in silence, Garth helpfully patted him on the knee, boasting, "They're really quite spectacular."

For once, Ronny was rendered speechless, able to only shake his head in frustration.

"How much did you tell your husband about last week?" Valeri interrupted.

"After you went to bed, we actually sent him a couple of pictures." Pacey replied, before opening her phone to show Valeri and Noah the photos. "There weren't as many 'relevant follow-up questions' as you'd expect."

"But there were some?" asked Noah.

"He wanted to know how I ended up without a bra and was curious about my reaction to seeing Ron's 'little friend.'" she teased, while not revealing how she answered those questions. "But the real surprise, was that he immediately recognized Ron's victory lap, and wondered if you all expected me to do one."

"Did he shut it down immediately?" Ronny wondered tentatively, already anticipating her answer.

"Of course not. I let him know that it was a tradition." she deadpanned, setting them up for her punchline. "I also explained that after your disastrous holiday season, it would take a minor miracle for you losers to even make the playoffs."

"I can guarantee we'd win the consolation tournament though." Noah laughed.

"If we end up in the loser's bracket, it'd be fitting to bring back one of the goalies who helped get you there." Pacey teased back. "Let them do the lap."

"Speaking of traditions..." Ronny interrupted, seeming to regain his spark. "Let's send Dusty a photo of the bra you're wearing tonight."

Pacey was actually wearing a fairly conservative number tonight, and if she had been in Ronny's basement she'd have just lifted her shirt. But that would draw plenty of unwanted attention in a pub.

Instead, she excused herself to the washroom, ducked into a stall to remove it, then bunched it up and wadded it into her purse for the walk back.

Pausing in front of the mirror, she almost backed out.

Her t-shirt was pink instead of white, so it wasn't her areolas staring back at her. Even calling them 'shadows' would be an overstatement. This was the 'hint of a suggestion of the existence of a shadow' of her areolas.

No one would be able to discern color, or size, but they would be aware of... 'something'.

The only reason she continued on was the knowledge that the light here, in front of the mirror, was magnitudes brighter than what she would encounter in the tap room.

The walls of the hallway outside the washroom were lined with mirrors, and she was able to verify that the discreet lighting had the desired effect.

However, she was now confronted by the reflection of her nipples, that had turned to stone at the mere consideration of a more blatant exposure. She had been blaming Dusty and alcohol for her Thursday night shenanigans, but the time was approaching where she might have to face the realization that, maybe exhibitionism was her jam as well.

Exiting the hallway and beginning her transit of the tap room, all eyes turned toward her, which was not an unexpected development when you are an athletic, 6'-4" tall, blond woman.

However, she could tell by their facial expressions that neither her stature nor her hair color were her admirers' main focus. Pacey was as keenly aware of her freshly unholstered boobs' gentle movements as her audience, as her erect nipples began tracing intricate patterns against the thin fabric of her shirt.

As she arrived at the table, Ronny held out his hand as he smugly demanded, "Let see it."

Pacey froze in surprise, having intended for the exchange to be much more discreet. Hell, if the plan had been to share her business with the whole bar, she'd have just whipped her shirt up without bothering to visit the lavatory in the first place.

She reached into her purse, pausing to look over her shoulder, where she noticed that she was still the focus of nearly half the pub's patrons. She slowly brought her hand back out of the purse, clutching nothing but a fist, with one raised finger.

"Fuck you, asshole." she playfully teased, flipping-off Ronny while she slid into her seat.

Once back in the relative privacy of the booth, she stealthily removed the bra from her purse and slid it to Ronny under the table.

Her clandestine actions were immediately wasted, as Ronny held the garment aloft for the benefit of his teammates and a few nearby tables.

"There's a lot more material in this one." he observed, turning it over in his hands. "It's a different size too. Wasn't the other one a 'D'?"

"It's a childbirth thing Ron, nothing that you have to worry about." was her curt reply.

"It must feel great to get that thing off, after being squeezed into it." he replied, ignoring her tone. "You probably should go bra shopping again, then throw all these small ones away."

"I'm assuming that you're volunteering to help pick out the new ones?" Pacey asked with suspicion.

"It could be a real team building exercise." Ronny offered, with heads nodding all around the booth, with one exception.

"Thanks." she replied with a laugh, "But I think that I'll pass."

"Suit yourself." he allowed with a shrug. "But I would recommend leaving them free until you update your wardrobe."

"Duly noted." was her non-committal reply.

"Now, let's get that photo for Dusty." Ronny announced, while digging his phone out of his pocket.

"Hold your horses." she admonished. "Only my phone for photos."

Ronny shrugged in acceptance, before laying her nice, conservative bra on the table in front of her.

As Pacey held her phone out in front of her, attempting to fit herself and the discarded bra into the same shot, Garth snuggled into the shot beside her, while Ronny, Valeri, and Noah moved to the empty booth behind her, kneeling on the bench as they towered above her.

When she was satisfied that she, the bra and all four teammates were in the shot, she snapped the pic.

Something immediately seemed wrong, and as she zoomed in, it readily became apparent.

While the dimly lit pub helped to obscure what was hiding beneath her t-shirt, the phone's flash had accomplished the complete opposite effect.

The shirt hadn't necessarily become transparent, but her areolas were now significantly more than just a 'hint of a shadow'. Their existence no longer conjecture, their size no longer a topic for idle speculation. There they were, front and center.

Suddenly remembering the men huddled above her, she tipped her head back and looked straight up into three grinning faces.

Ronny leaned down until his mouth was level with Pacey's ear, then instructed, "Send it."

The next morning, Pacey awakened to dozens of frantic texts from Dusty, but once again he seemed to calm down once he heard her voice, leading to few follow-up questions.

"How long did it take before you realized that your shirt was see-through?" he inquired excitedly.

"Actually, the camera flash did that." she casually answered. "Under normal lighting, it wasn't bad at all."

"Oh." he sighed, rapidly deflating. "So, did they even see the photo?"

"Oh ya." she exclaimed, grabbing Dusty's interest once again. "They definitely got a look at my phone."

"Wow." he slowly uttered in shock. "I can't believe Ronny saw your nipples."

"He didn't... not really." Pacey stammered, being unwilling to put that much gravitas into the brief exposure. "I'd call it more of a shadow that he saw."

"Potato, potato." Dusty replied breezily. "So, what did he say? How did he react?"

"He acted like he'd won the fucking lottery." she revealed, hiding nothing. "Arms crossed, smug grin, and lots of nodding."

"Did the topic of victory laps come up?" he asked tentatively.

"It did, but Valeri had more questions than Ronny." she revealed with a shrug. "I don't think that Ronny believes I'll go through with it."

"That's the whole point." Dusty announced triumphantly. "No woman is going to willingly go along with one of his schemes. It makes him suspicious."

"So, what exactly are you suggesting?" Pacey asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Pretend that you're having second thoughts and ask if he'll let you negotiate your way out of the agreement." Dusty excitedly revealed. "Having you on your back foot, while he believes that he holds the high ground is more in his wheelhouse."

"He won't negotiate in good faith." she remarked nervously. "You do realize that treating this as something we're already committed to is a dangerous game to be playing?"

"But it'll drive him wild." Dusty answered with a huge grin.

'Hmm' Pacey commented to herself, silently wondering if Dusty was talking about Ronny, or if he was actually referring to himself?

The regular season ended on a Thursday, and although the Tigers continued their winning ways, they still left the rink not knowing if they had indeed qualified for the playoffs.

Ronny invited the whole team to go back to his place, where he planned on drinking a few beer while the absolute final game of the season livestreamed on his big screen TV.

And the whole team did show up, all eyes hoping to see the Bullfrogs upset the Gators.

However, the first thing they saw was Ronny's nude portrait, still uncensored after Pacey's viewing weeks earlier.

"Ah, man! Are you going to cover that thing up?" asked one of the Mike's, gesturing toward Ronny's cock, which dominated the photo.

Pacey's eyes were also drawn toward the impressive hunk of meat, until she noticed most of her teammates trying to gauge her reaction, causing her to look away self-consciously.

Ronny had also noticed her reaction, causing him to smile to himself. He'd purposely left the poster uncensored in the hopes of getting her back in the basement, and her reaction had been well worth the wait.

"Fine." he finally replied, grabbing a joker from a pack of cards, and taping it haphazardly over the large phallus, being mostly successful, although its prominent head continued to be visible.

A 'whoop' went up as the Bullfrogs opened the scoring.

The Bullfrogs were cellar dwellers for a reason, as they had only one skilled player, Gordo. And even he had a major flaw, as he used 100% of his focus on offence, putting no effort whatsoever into his defensive game.

The Bullfrogs were normally an easy team to beat, as long as you shadowed Gordo in the offensive zone, then exploited his lack of participation in the defensive zone.

However, on this night it seemed that the Gators weren't interested in doing either of those things, as Gordo scored his second of the night minutes later, then completed his hat trick soon after.

With the game on the precipice of breaking open, Ronny figured that it might be smart to make a trip to the beer store before the outlet closed, in case the game-watch party turned into a celebration of qualifying for the playoffs.

"Coming for a beer run?" he asked Pacey.

Being alone in a car with Ronny shouldn't have been on her to-do list, but she couldn't very well tease him in front of the whole team, and she did want a story to tantalize Dusty in the morning.

"Sure."

Realizing that the drive to the beer store was only 5-minutes, she got right to the point.

"I'm having second thoughts about doing the victory lap." she said with just the proper amount of contrition. Dusty had asked her to put Ronny back into a position of power, but she was damned sure she wasn't willing to grovel.

"Don't be a welcher!" Ronny admonished. "I'd have more respect for a naked chick than someone who doesn't honor their commitments."

"I'm not backing out." she clarified. "I just wondered if we could negotiate to something more palatable for both sides."

"We send Dusty a selfie right now." he said immediately, almost like he had been preparing for this eventuality. "You'll be naked in my car with your hand on my lap."

She hesitated in shock, although Ronny interpreted Pacey's silence as her actually considering his proposal. He quickly decided to push for a bit more.

"The selfie comes from my phone."

"I am not putting something like that on your phone." she replied adamantly, the implication being that the rest of the proposal hadn't been out-of-bounds. "You could send that to anyone."

"Exactly." he conceded. "Valeri, Noah, and Garth were supposed to be present for the victory lap, so I'm negotiating on behalf of all four of us."

"What would it take to cut them out?" Pacey purred, realizing that she was dipping her toes into some dangerous waters, as she attempted to tease Ronny.

"You're asking me to commit a fairly serious breach of the bro code." he stated flatly. "Are you about to offer to sleep with me?"

"NO!" she replied in indignation.

"Well, I'm not selling out my boys for anything less." he firmly declared, before they both headed into the store to purchase the extra beverages.

When they were back in his car, he turned towards her, then decided to make another attempt.

"If you're concerned that the rink is too public, you could always come back to my house and do your victory lap around my basement." he suggested, before cautioning, "Just be aware, no one gets turned away from the championship after-party. Most of the team will be there, maybe some of our vanquished opponents. Heck, there will be people show up who don't know about the hockey game but heard about a mid-week party."

"That's a hard no." she fired back, before offering, "What if I promised to be braless every Thursday for the rest of the season?"

"We already got that." he answered with a dismissive wave, before adding, "Speaking of which, let's send Dusty his weekly pic."

This created a huge predicament for Pacey, since she had chosen to wear the infamous red bra tonight.

Displaying it in front of Ronny was an absolutely terrible idea, but leaving the house with him while fully dressed and returning fifteen minutes later bralessd would send the wrong message to any teammates who weren't part of the regular Thursday night crew.

She briefly chewed on her bottom lip, before ultimately choosing the former. She realized that her plan might be misguided, but she hoped tonight's photo would satisfy Dusty's desire for her to tease Ronny. At the very least, the shock of the exposure would gauge his commitment to the current course of action.

She also naively believed that this might be enough to appease Ronny.

Still sitting in the beer store's parking lot, Pacey removed her winter coat, then gently lowered the zipper on her hoodie.

She kept the two sides of the garment drawn together as she turned towards him. She looked up to see his expectant face slowly change as he glanced at some of the red material in her cleavage, and realized what awaited him.

That smug, shit-eating grin.

She'd seen it often enough. She'd even convinced herself that she hated it. But now, under his intense gaze, it triggered butterflies as endorphins flooded her system.

She took one more deep breath, then slowly parted the hoodie, revealing her nearly nude breasts inside the quite transparent lingerie.

She knew that he'd been seeking this view for nearly seven years and had expected him to smugly brag about fulfilling his destiny, but instead all he managed was a breathless, "Damn, girl."

She continued to pose under his intense gaze, having already forgotten that her original mission had not actually been to expose her tits to Ronny, but to take a simple selfie for her husband.

"I got this." Ronny announced, producing his phone without averting his eyes.

She realized that she was compounding bad decisions, one atop another, but the intense butterflies left her powerless to object.

The bright camera flash brought an abrupt end to her reverie, and she drew her hoodie closed while scanning the parking lot to verify that she had only performed for an audience of one.

He typed a short message into his phone, then turned it for her.

RONNY:

[Beer run to celebrate making the playoffs. A sneak peek at what's in store for the Ronmeister after we win this thing!!!!]

A checkmark appearing to show it was sent to her husband, another when it delivered.

There was no way to load manage this, she had obviously been practically topless in Ronny's car. Tomorrow would be an interesting wake up for Dusty.

"Can you delete that from your phone?"

"I'll dump the original." he replied, only partially committing. "It'll be up to Dusty to delete it from our conversation. However, if it's still there next Thursday, I'm showing Valeri and Noah."

"... and Garth?" she teased.

"Fuck Garth." Ronny growled, while flipping a vulgar gesture in the general direction of his house. "He's seen your tits multiple times and hasn't so much as shared a verbal description with us. He's on his own."

By the time they returned to Ronny's house, the score had ballooned to 7-1, and the celebration had begun. Against all odds, the Tigers were headed for the playoffs.

Friday morning Pacey awoke to a suspiciously silent phone. She had expected Dusty to be freaking out by now, but... nothing.

She fought the urge to panic, instead deciding to give her husband time to process her raciest photo yet.

When the clock reached noon, 5:00 PM in Poland, she began to worry that perhaps she had gone too far this time. It was under this mindset of self-doubt, when she was considering explanations and excuses for her behavior, that she received a string of texts from a strange number.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: [This is Dusty.]

UNKNOWN NUMBER: [My phone was dead this morning, so I put it on the charger and forgot the damn thing back at the apartment.]

UNKNOWN NUMBER: [We just got off the bus in Gdańsk for a double header this weekend, so I won't have my phone again until Sunday.]

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

[If you need me, text my roommate Jochen. This is his number.]

Pacey was relieved that Dusty hadn't overreacted to the photo but realized that this was only because he hadn't seen it yet. The jury was still out on what would happen on Sunday.

This would give her some time to reconsider how to play this.

She was tempted to call Ronny and ask him to recall the photo but realized that he wouldn't do that purely out of compassion. His transactional nature would require something in return, and in all likelihood, it would be something she'd be unwilling to agree to.

Just as Pacey was about to acknowledge the message, one more arrived.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: [How did last night turn out?]

This wasn't Dusty's phone, so she couldn't exactly be honest and forthright. She decided to discreetly answer...

PACEY: [We qualified for post-season, then went back to Ronny's. We sent your usual Thursday night photo, but... we partied a bit too hard. The pic might have to be recalled before you see it.]

When there wasn't an immediate reply, Pacey decided to get on with her day.

She made a call to her agent, who divulged that the donation of livestreaming equipment was beginning to pay dividends.

Four teams in North America were offering tryouts in the fall. Two of them were teams that were looking for a third string goalie, but the other two were teams that were planning on holding an open competition for spots.

There were also a few actual contract offers from Europe. Her agent's advice was that none of these offers were time limited, so, "... let's see how the playoffs go, then make our choice."

Pacey was still undefeated, so she didn't know what could be gained with a good playoff run, but she deferred to her agent.

The next appointment on her agenda was an online coaching session with Murph.

He had broken down some video from the livestream for demonstration purposes, although with the groove she was currently in, most of it was positive reinforcement.

Towards the end of their session, he started looking ahead to the playoffs, showing video that didn't even involve the Tigers. This way she could have a preview of some of the tricks and tendencies of her first-round opponent.

After he made his final points, he stayed online to chat with her while his raw video continued to play in the background.

Pacey noticed the game on the screen ended, followed by Chuck coming out with his Zamboni to clean the ice. Afterwards, he turned the bright floodlights off, but the rink continued to be bathed in some soft lighting. Off camera he could be heard locking up for the night, as the video stretched on.

She had never considered the possibility that the livestream would stay on while the arena was closed. It was a good thing that she wasn't seriously considering a victory lap, since anyone in the world could accidentally pop in at just the wrong moment.

Of course, 'anyone in the world' was a fairly large group, one that included Dusty. Something like this would permit him to participate from an ocean away... if she had actually been considering a victory lap.

After the call ended, Pacey checked her phone to find that she had received a text from Jochen's number.

A simple, two word reply.

JOCHEN: [SEND IT!!!]

She couldn't tell who had typed it, but whoever it was, had been captivated by the idea that the taboo photo required deletion.

Maybe Dusty was high on endorphins, but 'all caps' and multiple exclamation marks weren't typical staples of his texting style, making her suspicious of Jochen.

Since she didn't actually have a copy of the photo, it wasn't a decision she had to mull over. She did reply, even throwing in an exclamation mark for good measure...

PACEY: [I would if I could, but this week's pic wasn't sent from my phone!]

If this was Jochen, he'd now realize that he wasn't going to receive a picture.

However, if this was Dusty, he would have a fairly solid idea of whose phone the photo had been sent from. And if the pic was naughty enough that it should be recalled, he would understand that connotation as well. He would also have to marinate on these points for the next two nights before he could see it for himself.

Ethan required an early morning feeding, so Pacey just happened to be awake Sunday when Dusty returned to his apartment.

His team had played their second game in Gdańsk the previous evening, then climbed aboard a chartered motorcoach for the overnight drive home.

DUSTY: [DAMN GIRL!!!]

The first text alerted Pacey that he was back home and also seemed to confirm that she was now married to an all-caps typing, multiple exclamation mark dropping, texter.

She decided to initiate a video call to view his raw emotions while the photo was still fresh. The phone rang several times, and just as she was expecting the ringer to time out, the call finally connected. Staring back at her was a face she had never seen before.

"Oh, hey!" the stranger called out, his face lighting up with recognition. Dusty's Polish team had rented an apartment for their import players, and this speaker's thick Bavarian accent indicated that he was likely the German, Jochen. 'Jochen' then called out, "DUSTY! YOUR BEAUTIFUL WIFE IS ON THE PHONE!"

Jochen continued to stare awkwardly back at her image, until finally Dusty wrestled the phone out of his grasp, then took it into his bedroom and closed the door.

"Hey Doll." Dusty said through a beaming smile. "It's been a long weekend, not being able to see your face every day."

"Speaking about seeing my face..." she replied, not jumping straight to the point, but heading in that direction, "... that guy seemed to recognize me."

"Jochen." Dusty clarified. "Ya, he's seen a few pictures."

"Which pictures?" she asked, beginning to think Dusty had been load managing her as well. His sheepish grin all but confirmed her suspicions. "You didn't show him the Thursday night photos?!"

"They aren't 'that' racy." he defended himself. "I won't show him this week's pic, if it's as bad as you say."

"It is at least 'as bad as I say', perhaps worse." she purred, teasingly. "I received a comment about the photo from your number. If you haven't seen it yet, Jochen must have."

Dusty had spent most of the weekend fantasizing about seeing the aforementioned photo, and he now took the opportunity to search through his messages for it.

With silence permeating from the opposite end of the call, Pacey decided to continue, playfully mocking him, "Have you never learned how to lock your phone?"

If he ever intended to answer her question, that task, along with everything else in his life including breathing, was long forgotten by the time his frantic flipping through apps left him confronted by the photo.

While Pacey watched on from the opposite side of the ocean, Dusty's face first blushed, then his eyes seemed to glaze over as she recognized the signs of endorphins flooding his bloodstream.

She could tell that he was definitely enjoying this, at least as much as she had... perhaps even more than the photographer.

"Ronny saw your tits." he finally commented in disbelief.

"I was wearing a bra." she replied in jest. "He saw my tits, 'inside' a bra."

"No, he saw your tits, 'through' a bra." Dusty corrected. "What did he say? How did he react?"

"Well, he pulled out his phone and immediately texted my boobs to my husband." she teased. "To call him 'smug' would be a huge understatement."

"Yes, he also sent me some follow up messages where he talks a little smack." Dusty revealed. "He's bragging that he's going to see a lot more after you win the playoffs."

"Well, that's where we're heading if we don't hit an exit ramp pretty fucking soon." Pacey declared. "Can you imagine how insufferable he's going to be if I skate around completely naked for him?"

Dusty went silent for a moment, where he imagined both the victory lap and Ronny's incessant teasing that was sure to follow. Finally, he quietly admitted, "I just wish I could be there to witness it."

She was caught off guard by his candor and realized that by continuing to egg him on beyond this point was to tread upon dangerous territory.

The smart play would be to cut short his lewd fantasy. But that's not what happened.

After taking a deep breath, Pacey grinned into the screen and whispered, "There is a way for you to participate..."

With the risqué trajectory set in motion, Pacey hadn't seen much point in preventing Valeri and Noah from seeing the bra photo. So, she didn't even mention to Dusty the importance of asking Ronny to delete the picture from their text conversation. In a way, even amid the chaos, she still contrived to load manage him.

However, there was still one major hurdle sitting between Pacey and a victory lap. The Tigers still had to win the playoffs while playing from the bottom seeded position.

First up were the big bad Bruins who had finished in first place with just two loses all season.

Pacey tasted defeat for the first time to open the series, before the Tigers rebounded to win the next two. The Bruins then evened the series at two apiece.

The fifth and deciding game was a nail biter that remained scoreless through regulation, and again through the first sudden death overtime. However, on the opening shift of the second overtime Ronny managed to thread the needle through a tangle of legs to send the Tigers on to the next round.

After that, the only real suspense was 'will she, or won't she, do a victory lap?', as the Tigers dispatched the Jets in three straight games in the semis, before winning the first two games of the finals against the Lancers by relatively lopsided scores.

Pacey met with Dusty on the morning of the third game, which would be the first of three consecutive potential cup clinching games.

Although the wheels had been set in motion, and she was planning on showing up at the rink prepared for a victory lap, she wasn't willing to commit to anything yet.

There were four conditions she and Dusty had agreed to, any of which would result in her pulling the plug.

1.) TOTAL LOCKDOWN:

Nothing would begin until Chuck the rink attendant had the building secured. The last thing they wanted was a member of the public wandering into the middle of her victory lap.

2.) BY INVITATION ONLY:

The original agreement had been that only Ronny, Garth, Valeri, and Noah would be present. If other teammates were still straggling behind when Chuck closed up,... well, quite literally, tough titties.

3.) EMPTY STREAM:

Dusty would be watching tonight's game from Poland, then lingering online. Pacey wouldn't leave the safety of the locker-room until she was informed that he was the only viewer still on the livestream.

4.) NO SKITTISH SKATER:

Those were the freebies that allowed her to bailout with her pride intact. However, if all those conditions were met, she still had the ability to chicken out, although she would have to listen to Ronny talking shit for an eternity.

Pacey was looking for input on one other decision.

"I haven't been keeping up with certain grooming habits since you were home." she announced, before asking, "Pubes, or no pubes?"

"How about progressive styling?" Dusty suggested. "Full bush tonight. Landing strip, if there's a game four. Bald for game five."

Pacey had a good feeling that the playoffs would end tonight, so she wasn't invested in his idea. Instead, she offered, "How about I surprise you?"

Before her pregame shower, she stood in front of the mirror with her grooming tools.

She had a certain degree of artistic ability, and on one Valentines Day she had managed to sculpt her pubes into a heart shape for Dusty, but figured doing the same thing for the Thursday night crew might send the wrong message.

A smiley face emoji was also within her wheelhouse, but she figured that would be a little weird under these circumstances.

She even considered shaving her uniform number (37), for the simple reason that it was a combination of two other uniform numbers, 3 (Garth's) and 7 (Ronny's).

Eventually, inspiration rewarded her with an idea that was equal parts fun and naughty. While it would be difficult to execute, no mistake would be catastrophic, since wiping the slate completely clean was always an acceptable alternative.

Game three was never in doubt. The Tigers scored on each of their first two shots and were up five goals by the end of the period. When the final horn blared to signify the 8-0 win, the Tigers left the bench to swarm around Pacey in celebration.

They were awarded the cup at center ice and did a team victory lap (dressed in full gear) and posed for a team picture before returning to the dressing room.

They drank champagne from the cup, before quickly switching to beer. Teammates began filtering out, and it seemed like no time before only the regular Thursday night crew were left. She had been expecting to have to wait out the stragglers, and was pleasantly surprised that it had occurred so quickly.

In hindsight, the seemingly organic departure of teammates immediately after achieving their common goal should have set off the first alarm bells.

With the referee's room now empty, she slipped across the hall to shower. Although she hadn't made the final decision on the victory lap, tonight her duffel bag contained a hair dryer, curling iron, and makeup. If she did this, she planned for the lasting memories of all involved to be of the hottest version of herself.

All the preparation meant that she took significantly longer than usual in the referee's room. When she was finally satisfied with her reflection, she wrapped her torso in a towel and peeked out the door, looking both ways to ensure hallway was clear.

She assumed that all the Lancers were long gone, but was more concerned about getting caught by the rink attendant and banned from the arena.

Finding the hallway abandoned, she crossed to the Tiger's door, lightly knocking out of habit. Ronny opened the door, and she could tell that the guys were fully dressed, which would reduce the odds of this night spiraling out of control.

Ronny had intended to fix her with his smuggest shit-eating grin, because he knew that it got under her skin. But his composure briefly faltered when he saw her.

Instead of the straight blond highlights, her face was framed by loose wavy curls. It was almost like being confronted by a 6'-4" version of 1978 Farrah Fawcett. She looked more prepared for a modeling job than a skate around the rink.

Quickly recovering, he asked, "So, we doing this?"

"That depends." she answered tentatively. "Someone has to check to make sure all the entrances are locked."

"I have that all taken care of." came a voice from inside the room. "This ain't my first rodeo."

She needn't have worried about getting banned from the arena, as the voice belonged to the rink attendant himself, sitting beside Noah while nursing a beer.

"Victory laps go a lot smoother when Chuck's on board." Ronny added. "So, he's been involved since the beginning."

With the rest of the teammates gone and the doors locked, she grabbed her phone to find a forty-minute old text.

DUSTY: [I'm the last viewer on the livestream.]

Shrugging, she looked toward Ronny and relented, "Pass me a beer while I lace up my skates."

She made a couple of aborted attempts to put on her skates, but there just wasn't enough towel to discreetly accomplish the task.

True, in five-minutes she would have no modesty left to protect, but she did want to tease the men by drawing out the big reveal.

She also wanted to hide her grooming secret just a little longer.

"Garth, would you be a dear?" she flirtatiously asked, pointing toward her skates.

As Garth knelt to lace up Pacey's skates, he likely got a sneak peek at what was to come. However, everyone present continued to nurse their beer and reminisce about the now completed season, seemingly oblivious to the impending nudity.

When Garth had completed his task, Pacey grabbed her phone once again and typed out a short message to her husband.

PACEY: [Here we go!]

She put her phone back into her coat, then stood up and drained her beer before announcing, "Let's do this."

Noah held the door as Pacey led them out of the room, followed by the guys. Ronny carried the cup as he brought up the rear.

They walked to the Zamboni door that Chuck had helpfully left open in anticipation of the Tiger's tradition.

Pacey stepped onto the ice and reached for the cup. However, Ronny delayed the exchange.

"You have to carry it above your head." he instructed.

"D'uh." was her sarcastic response. "I play hockey, I know how this works."

She reached for the cup again, and this time Ronny passed it over.

Hoisting the trophy above her head, she looked down at her towel, suddenly realizing that she no longer had a free hand. She looked at Ronny and arched an eyebrow, silently giving him permission.

He reached for the towel, but then paused, holding eye contact with his goalie. When he noticed her bite the corner of her lip, he gave her a smug grin and pulled the towel free.

The whooping and cheering that accompanied her unveiling triggered a sudden onslaught of endorphins which set her belly flip-flopping as every nerve ending in her body seemed to simultaneously come alive.

She had tried to divert responsibility for her participation towards Dusty and Ronny, but as she rode the wave of pleasure, there was no doubt that she was in her element.

Pacey pumped the cup over her head a couple of times, partially in triumph, but mostly in an attempt to burn a little of the excess energy coursing through her body.

However, the movement caused her boobs to jiggle, which only increased the scrutiny of her voyeurs.

When the swaying of her tits settled down, all eyes focused further down, and her grooming secret was revealed.

"The Tiger's logo?" Valeri asked with a chuckle. "Now that's what I call a pussy."

"Well, we can't very well call you 'Blondie's' any more." observed Ronny with a chuckle, a subtle acknowledgement that her carpet didn't match the drapes.

***

Across the Atlantic, Dusty could hear voices over the livestream microphones, but the booming echoes inside the nearly deserted arena rendered them virtually unintelligible. However, it was fairly obvious from the body language in the video, that the neatly manicured Tiger had drawn everyone's attention.

Dusty lowered his boxers and began to stroke his hardening cock, watching as his wife continued to chat with her admirers. He had expected the entire victory lap to take about thirty seconds to complete, but her nude adventure had already lasted nearly four times that long, and the lap had yet to commence.

The weight of the trophy was beginning to affect her arms, as he noticed it begin to lower. However, when Ronny brought out his phone, Pacey immediately returned it to its full height, before sticking out her tongue.

They had firmly agreed to 'no photographs', and Dusty wondered what Ronny could have possibly said to get her to allow such a racy pic. But after the camera flash, his own phone dinged and he realized that he had witnessed the taking of his regular Thursday night photo.

Pacey did a quick 360 to give her audience the full view of her body, then disappeared into the murk of the half-lit arena to finally begin her four-hundred-foot lap.

Since Pacey's agent had paid for the installation of the livestreaming equipment with the intent of showcasing her talents, the cameras at either end showed a closeup of the net. This is how Dusty received such a detailed view of the beginning of this encounter.

The third camera was a panned out shot of the neutral zone, so while he'd be able to discern that a nude woman was skating by, he doubted that she would be recognizable.

As he waited for her to appear on this center ice camera, he was shocked to notice that he was no longer alone on the livestream. Sometime in the last few seconds, he had been joined by three others.

Although the rational side of his brain realized that Pacey had nowhere to carry a cellphone, he panicked and tried calling her number anyway, as he frantically attempted to warn her.

When the call went to voicemail, he saw her skate through center ice with the cup still held high. He knew that as she approached the far end, another opportunity for a close up would be presented.

Knowing that Ronny was carrying his phone, he texted his old teammate in desperation.

***

Blissfully unaware of the unfolding drama, Pacey continued across the blue line, occasionally pumping the trophy in the air.

As she neared the opposite end, she noticed a lonely figure materializing from the shadows. She briefly considered that Ronny had run ahead to grab another photo but instantly dismissed the thought. Even with her lazy strides, there's no way someone on foot could keep up with her.

Had another teammate been accidentally locked inside by Chuck? An opponent? Somehow, it was worse than either of those scenarios.

Standing behind the glass, in his regular spot was her goalie coach, her father's college roommate... heck, her own namesake.

Murph.

Sure, at the opposite end of the ice she had experienced embarrassment, but that was the raw, exciting version that gives you butterflies and compels you to chase that feeling over and over again. This, however, this was the bad type of embarrassment, leaving her with cheeks that reddened and burned with pure, unadulterated shame.

It wasn't even the nudity she was concerned with. If Murph had accidentally walked in on her in the shower, she felt that they could have laughed it off together.

No, her shame was rooted in the circumstances. She was a married woman, misbehaving with a group of single men. She couldn't very well tell him that Dusty had endorsed this activity... could she?

But then something changed. She looked up, expecting to see disappointment and judgment written across Murph's face, but instead she found her mentor laughing and shaking his head in bemusement.

It was the type of reaction she'd expect from someone who had just caught their neighbor's kid setting fire to their farts.

Basically, he considered this as juvenile shenanigans.

This somehow made it feel better, so she shrugged her shoulders, and gave him a wry smile, as if to say, 'I bet you're wondering how I got here'. Then she turned back toward the other end of the rink.

***

In Poland, Dusty didn't notice her acknowledge Murph, since he was distracted as he watched Ronny reading his text in real-time.

DUSTY: [Ask rink attendant to pull the plug on the livestream and throw Pacey a towel before she reenters camera range. Multiple new viewers showing up online.]

However, Ronny was doing neither of those things as he looked directly up into one of the cameras and flashed Dusty with a shit-eating grin. He then casually began typing a reply.

Dusty continued to watch the three little dots on his phone, their duration attesting to how long-winded Ronny's reply was going to be. As he waited, he noticed that the livestream counter continued to tick up, until it now showed nine recent arrivals.

Stricken by panic once again, Dusty sent another message, alerting Ronny to the increased viewership, in the hope of coaxing him into action.

Instead, the three dots frustratingly disappeared, as Ronny deleted his previously crafted message.

"RONNY YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" Dusty shouted in exasperation, momentarily forgetting that the local time was approaching four o'clock in the morning. The last thing he needed right now, was for his roommates to bust into his room in concern, only to find him with his cock in his hand and his nude wife skating around on the TV.

Seeming to read his mind, Ronny once again looked into the camera and pressed his palms toward the floor, the international signal for, 'chill out, dude.'

"Fuck you." Dusty muttered, then watched as the three dots reappeared, and Ronny resumed his typing.

***

As Pacey reached center ice, Murph had already faded into the murkiness behind her, and her welcoming committee at the opposite end were still nothing more than shadows. However, she was aware that the camera lenses were much more adaptive to poor lighting than the human eye, affording her a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to give Dusty a private show, while in a public setting.

She did a 720-degree pirouette, which sounded good in her head, but nearly led to a fall since goalie skates have very thick, flat blades and low boots that don't offer much ankle support.

After coming to a complete stop, she turned away from the camera, bent at the waist and shook her bum. If the lens had been zoomed, her pussy might have been visible from behind, but she doubted that the wide angle of center ice camera would show anything 'too' intimate. Plus, she reasoned, it was only Dusty, right?

She turned to sarcastically give the livestream a surprised Pikachu face, then winked and resumed her victory lap.

Unknown to Pacey, her husband was still distracted and missed the private show. But that didn't mean that it went unseen.

***

Dusty was busy reading a series of Ronny's texts, which had finally arrived.

RONNY: [Victory lap is a tradition that predates my involvement with the team.]

RONNY: [All of the Tigers have done one.]

RONNY: [All of them expected that she would also participate.]

RONNY: [Did you really think they would willingly skip THIS, if there wasn't an alternative way to witness it?]

As Dusty considered this revelation, Pacey entered his screen, and with that, the clock ran out on him being able to avoid her total exposure.

She glided in toward the Zamboni door, then quickly rotated her hips to perform a hard two-foot stop that sprayed the assembled gentlemen with icy shavings. Dusty noted that it also set her boobs in motion for the benefit of all, including the late arrivals to the livestream.

As she stepped from the ice, Pacey handed the cup to Noah while Garth offered her the discarded towel. Her exposure, which had long overrun its expected duration, was coming to a conclusion... until Ronny spoke to her.

Dusty couldn't hear what was said, but he assumed that Ronny had suggested sending a greeting to Poland, because everyone crowded around Pacey, looked up into the camera and waved.

Noah's non-waving arm cradled the cup, while Garth's awkwardly continued to hold the towel.

Without props to occupy their free hand, Ronny and Valeri both reached behind Pacey. Dusty couldn't see where their paws settled, but the angles implied that they must have been near her fabulous caboose, a fact all but confirmed when her face faltered and she barked out a warning.

Chuck stood idly behind her, looking down towards the hidden hands with great amusement.

The group broke apart, and Pacey finally donned her towel, ending the exposure. However, the confluence of events over the last five-minutes were too much for Dusty, and his painfully hard erection suddenly erupted.

As he continued to milk it, he heard someone clear their throat and turned to see his groggy roommates standing in his open doorway.

***

Pacey stopped at the referee's room to get dressed, and by the time she returned to the locker-room the guys were all ready to head to the afterparty at Ronny's.

They packed their gear into the vehicles they arrived in, but locked them up, before climbing into the awaiting rideshare.

During the short drive, Pacey checked her phone. She had three messages.

MURPH: [Celebrate every championship like it may be your last. Enjoy the rest of your night.]

This confirmed her conclusion that he considered this 'juvenile shenanigans' and she felt relieved.

She was still curious about how he had come to be hanging around in a locked arena that long after the conclusion of the game but didn't feel like this was the time to ask.

She just hoped that Murph hadn't been ambushed by Ronny.

VIC: [Our livestream gamble paid off. I have a few intriguing offers. Let's meet over the weekend to discuss.]

Those were two positive messages. She was riding high as they pulled up to Ronny's house. She checked the last one as she climbed from the van.

DUSTY: [A couple of your teammates joined the livestream after I gave you the all-clear.]

Pacey didn't believe in coincidences and immediately suspected that Ronny was somehow responsible for the additional viewers. She tried to imagine who the two extras were. Certainly, one of the Mike's... the short, stocky one, but she drew a blank as to the other's identity.

Unbeknownst to Pacey, her husband to written several versions of this text, before finally hitting send.

In the post-nut clarity after getting caught by his roommates, Dusty was prepared to go scorched earth. He was upset at Ronny and was willing to include screenshots of their conversation to illustrate that the intention had always been to include more than the original four men.

Yet looking back, Pacey had seemed so playful and happy during the victory lap, and Dusty knew that his words would surely ruin her night. He decided that this conversation could wait until tomorrow.

However, he was also aware that saying nothing could set her up to be blindsided when she arrived at the afterparty, since it was almost certain that someone would spill the beans. Eventually he decided to reveal that the livestream hadn't been private, without overwhelming her with the minutiae. Load managing, so to speak.

What he didn't realize was that Ronny had load managed even him, as to the scope of the viewership.

The group from the rideshare entered Ronny's house together.

The short 'n stocky Mike was the first person Pacey encountered, and his face immediately blushed, all but confirming her suspicion that he had recently been online.

Even with Ronny back home, it was S'nS Mike who continued to act as host, welcoming them inside. He revealed that there was a Chinese buffet laid out in the kitchen, and several pizzas were also on their way. Coolers of beer and other beverages were on ice throughout the house. Somewhere, a DJ was spinning tunes.

S'nS Mike didn't play a regular shift, and he wasn't particularly effective in what little ice-time he did earn. But when a team wins six titles in eight seasons, everybody needs to find their role, and apparently this mofo was the guru of championship afterparty organization. Pacey made it a point to find out what the Tigers afterparty budget was before the end of the night.

Still carrying the trophy, Pacey decided to head towards the source of the music. As she threaded her way through the house, she encountered various teammates who each had a certain 'tell' that made her believe they might be the other uninvited livestream guest.

However, when she realized that she was trying to interpret facial expressions of the various players from other teams in the league, plus tons of people she had never seen before, she decided that maybe she was chasing ghosts. She would have to corner Ronny at some point to get the names of the livestreamers.

Everybody seemed to recognize Pacey, and each person offered their congratulations. After Pacey acknowledged them, she would hear the greeting repeated multiple times, only then realizing that the rest of the Tiger's were snaking through the crowd behind her.

She had to turn sideways to descend the stairs to the basement, as a steady stream of people were going in both directions.

Halfway down, she came face-to-face with Stu, the Bruin player who had attempted to attack her as part of an ill-fated 'momentum shift'.

"Hey, Goalie." he said by way of greeting, having never bothered to learn her name. "Congrats on the win."

"Thanks." Pacey replied curtly. She didn't particularly feel like chatting with Stu, but a traffic jam had developed in the stairwell, pausing her descent.

"Hey, no hard feelings about our, uh... little run-in?" he asked, his smug grin masking any remorse he might have felt.

Pacey was momentarily rendered speechless, a condition that wasn't improved as Stu chose that moment to hungrily ogle her body from head to toe. Ironically, it was Garth who broke the silence.

"That's the shittiest apology I've ever heard." he chided, stuck in traffic, several steps above Pacey.

Stu self-consciously touched the bridge of his nose. He would normally treat such a bold insult as fighting words, but he had been forced to miss the playoffs while his nose healed. He wasn't anxious to tangle with Garth again, so soon after it had knitted itself back together.

"I saw what I came to see." Stu said to Ronny, while nodding his head toward the basement. "Thanks for the invite."

It seemed like such an offhand comment, that Pacey didn't really consider its meaning until a couple of minutes later.

The traffic jam cleared and Pacey resumed her descent. When she reached the mancave, all heads turned and the group were given a cheer like conquering heroes.

The DJ was indeed in the corner and immediately switched to 'We Are the Champions' by Queen.

While being serenaded by the crowd, Pacey made an aborted attempt at hoisting the trophy over her head, but 6'-4" trophy bearers and 8' ceilings don't match up well.

She set the trophy onto the card table to check it over for damage, when she noticed that the large poster of Ronny's victory lap was once again uncensored.

He came to stand beside her while flashing his biggest, smuggest, shit-eating grin of all-time.

"Are you not embarrassed?" she asked as she nodded towards the poster. "There must be close to 150 people in your house."

"When you've got it, flaunt it." he stated proudly. "Besides, it would be the height of hypocrisy for me to hide after the show you gave us tonight."

She was about to explain that there was a major difference between 150 people and the... well fewer than ten who had witnessed her brief skate.

But suddenly her focus turned to the big screen TV behind him.

Playing on an endless loop, like it had for the past hour, was the video of her own victory lap.

It wasn't the nudity that reddened her cheeks and sent her belly flip-flopping. It was that Dusty had warned her not to underestimate Ronny, and that's exactly what both she and Dusty had done.

Now she realized why everyone in the house had been giving her knowing glances. Pacey had convinced herself that she had only made the decision to participate earlier tonight, after her four conditions were met. But Ronny had been planning her coming out party for much longer, trusting that she would follow through for the 'Ronmeister.'

And boy, did she deliver!

Despite her repeated denials, she had to admit to herself that she was an unrepentant exhibitionist. Because, surprisingly, her biggest regret from tonight wasn't choosing to do the nude lap.

Would it have been wise to have gotten Chuck to pull the plug on the livestream? Probably, but that wasn't it either. Heck, she wasn't even worrying about the repercussions should one of these idiots post this video online. Not yet, at least.

No, her biggest regret was that Ronny's victory lap would forever be recalled for his cartoonishly large appendage, while everyone would remember her lap for the furry Tiger that was shaved into her bush.

What was supposed to be a dumb inside joke between a few teammates, was currently staring back at the revelers in full HD.