Two

SIDNEY

I can't even begin to tell you what the fuck I'm doing.

I'm kissing Bridget; her face in my hands, her hands on my chest.  The moment I realized she wasn't going to punch me or run away, I freed her arms.  Now she touches me tentatively without knowing how sensitive that area really is.

Kris is behind her.  I can't think about that - it's much too much and threatens to derail the progress I've made, however suspect the origins.  Bridget catches my lower lip between her teeth and tugs, then sweeps her tongue forcefully into my mouth.  A second later, her shirt comes up between us and I have to let go entirely.  She's responding to Kris’ touch, but taking it out on me.  The white top goes over her head and away, I slide a hand down her neck then thumb across her already hard nipple.  One of us gasps - it might be me.
____

Let me start from the beginning.

When Bridget was hired here, every dick in the room got hard and followed her like a tractor beam.  It's not that she's the hottest girl ever - though she's plenty hot - it's just the way this place works.  Too many guys together all the time with limited chances to blow off steam.  Any girl in the mix might as well be swimming with sharks.

She was no fool though.  She expected it, and worked around it, made it funny and easier to handle.  And by the time she'd seen us all bleeding and broken, she was a part of the team.

It was different for me.  Bridget was my chance to have a real live girl in my life.  Not someone else's girlfriend, although I relied on Vero tremendously, and not someone who was trying to be my girlfriend.  She was a girl and a friend, something I desperately needed.

Of course I fell in love with her.  Her long, dark hair always smelled like flowers and she had sparkling, devastating blue eyes.  A few years older was appealing too, since everyone says I’m such an old man.  She was funny and smart and she actually listened to me.  Never once did Bridget brush off my problems because I'm famous or rich.  She never made me feel guilty for complaining about my so-called perfect life.

But I would never have done anything about it.

Back to the story at hand.

Nights in at the hotel used to be so boring.  Now I looked forward to spending time with Bridget.  It was the most relaxing part of my day.  We'd pick something on TV and make fun of it, order room service and I'd watch her eat the junk food I was never allowed.  We talked about everything and I nearly killed myself hiding the elephant in the room.  Much to my surprise, I don't think she ever knew how I felt.

We didn't usually talk about sex.  Relationships, yes.  But we still had the boy/girl dynamic, alone in a hotel room, that left some conversations out.  I don't know what got into me tonight.

At first, I was horrified.  I knew some girls faked it - hell I'd faked it twice just to shut up some slut who thought she was auditioning for Vivid Video.  But there hadn't been that many girls overall and most of them had actually been pretty nice.  Not that I was going to date them - my life wasn't set up that way.  But I wondered which of them had been lying to keep me happy, and if I liked them for it.

Bridget was always so honest with me, surely she would be with everyone.  Right?  Well she answered my question truthfully at least.

That's where I fell apart.  Every time I'd imagined myself with Bridget, closed my eyes and felt her body with my mind, she always... my mouth went dry.  She insisted it was a problem with her, not them.  Impossible.  Because if she couldn't then I could never make her, and though I never would it was very high on my wet dream to-do list.

Kris is my best friend.  He's very perceptive and one day he casually mentioned that Bridget and I would make a great couple.  It was his gentle way of telling me that he knew.  We talked about it a little, sometimes, but that night I couldn't help myself.

"Did you know that?" I asked him, still incredulous that only thirty percent of women could orgasm through sex alone.

"Oui."  Of course he did, Kris knows everything about women.

"Can you tell when someone's faking it?"

"Sometimes, maybe not always.  How would I know?"  Kris shrugged his huge shoulders, looked at me from beneath that mess of hair that drove girls crazy.  I bet no one ever faked it with Kris.  "If a girl can't go the regular way, I have no problem helping.  They always leave happy."

"Bridget can't."

That got his attention.  He sat straight up.  "What?"

"She needs... help.  To finish."

"Always?  She told you that?"

"Yeah."  I was blushing.  For her to tell me was shocking enough, for me to tell Kris... too late I realized I'd violated her trust.  "Please don't tell her I told you."

"Mon ami...."

"No."

"Sidney."  His voice was serious, and loud for Kris.  "There is only one reason she would tell you that."

"Because I asked."

"Because she doesn't believe it.  She thinks she can, with the right guy."

"She said it wasn't the guys," I tried to explain.  Kris got to his feet and my heart started to pound.  He was dangerous when it came to women and I couldn't be sure that even Bridget would say no if he asked.  Not that Kris ever had to ask.

"But none of those guys lasted, did they?  They weren't in her hotel room late at night, you were.  And you're about to be again."

"No no no, I can't!  I...," my brain raced with a million excuses.  "What if I she doesn't want me?"

"She may be waiting for you to do something, Sid.  But I'm not."

And he was out the door.
____

Bridget quickly peels my shirt off in the heat of the moment, and presses her bare chest to mine.  Confusion flickers in her gorgeous blue eyes, as if asking permission.  I crush her lips again because the only thing I don't want is for this to stop.

I can feel Kris holding her against me.  Her hips rock and I know he's moved on to the next obstacle - those tiny soft shorts she's wearing.  His hands will be under them, palms full of her flesh, before he drags them slowly down her long legs.  Her feet lift as she steps free but never does she leave my lips.

He's crouching behind her - I can feel his mouth exploring her skin in the way she kisses me.  She flashes a smile as he licks the delicate crease behind her knee.  When he reaches her ass, she grinds against me.

A moment later the pressure eases.  I open my eyes at the sound of his voice - this person who is my best friend, who is scaring the shit out of me right now and still managing to make me do the one thing I never had the guts to try.  I'm here, she's here.  And she's willing.  I'm going to end up thanking the dirty bastard in the end.

He puts his mouth to Bridget's ear.  Her eyes meet mine as we both hear Kris say, "He's going to take you now, remind you what you've felt before.  So you'll know what you've been missing."

Her lips part with a ragged breath and I feel her body tense like she's going to bolt.  So I grip her upper arms as much to keep myself in place.  Kris' eyes are black with lust.  He's shared girls before - a lot of the guys have - and it obviously turns him on.  He's having a very tough time holding back.

"She wants you to touch her," he tells me.  "Just your hands.  Make her come for you."

I can't look in her eyes.  Not until I get there.  So I kiss her again, feel Kris' weight settle against her back as he holds her between us.  Her stomach, then her hip is smooth beneath my hand.  The cleft of her leg parts slightly and I slip my hand in.

"Oh God," she says so quietly that only I hear.  Impossible softness and slick heat meet my fingers.  I run them over the length of her secret place, feel her breath catch and her breasts lift.  She'll have no trouble getting me off.  I bend one finger and drag it back, just parting the skin.  She whimpers.

"Go," Kris says.  I'd almost forgotten he was there.  His hands guide her over and down into a chaise lounge chair and I'm right over her, right away.  I can't leave an opening or he might stop playing nicely.  Bridget spreads her thighs and reaches for me.

I want to be inside her.  If my pants weren't still on, there'd be nothing in the world could stop me plunging into that pool right now.  Instead my dick beats painfully against my sweats, making me wish I'd at least worn shorts to soften the blow.

My fingers trace along her inner thigh, spreading streaks of the desire I can't believe she feels for me.  All this time?  Maybe it's for Kris.  Maybe not.  She's on display for both of us now and I hear Kris lay back on the nearest bed. I venture closer to her slit and she shifts down toward my hand.

"Sid," she says, breaking my train of thought.  She's looking right at me.  "Please."

I'm going to hell for this.  And it will arrive sooner than death, probably tomorrow when I realize I've ruined what we had for the sake of one night. But she's biting her lip our bodies are inches apart.  I press my finger into her soaking wet pussy.

Holy shit.

I force her mouth open with mine then slide a second finger in next to the first.  It stretches her beautifully, pulling taut the swollen softness of her secret place.  I will have her.  I  will taste her and fuck her and take all the things I want from her body tonight.  And I will make her come so hard she screams my name.  I will.

"Bridget," I whisper, sliding my lips along her jaw.  "Tell me what you want."

"Sidney," she's struggling already.

I'm barely breathing, there's no way Kris can hear me tell her, "I might not... know how.  For you.  Tell me what to do."

"I want you to fuck me," she says right out loud like she's not ashamed.  My heart stops so fast it's a high impact crash and I nearly black out.

Kris’ voice comes from behind me, watching like a coach.  "Not yet, cherie.  You need to remember."

"I hate you, Letang," she spits.  We all laugh until I find my tongue in her mouth again.

I force myself to concentrate on what I touch.  My eyes close to the sight of her perfect tits rising, her full lips parting, the creamy color of her skin.  In the sinking delirium of being inside her, my fingertips brush the tiny spongy spot that guys dream about.  She moans softly - she likes it, but I can tell right away it's not enough.

"Tell him," Kris says quietly, like he's been waiting long enough for me to figure things out.

Bridget rolls her head from side to side exaggeratedly.  "No.  Feels so good."

My dick tries to break itself out by hammering through my pants.  She twists down, riding so deep that she's in my palm.  I go harder, faster, fucking her with my hand and trying to read her mind.  My other fingers pinch her nipple gently.  I could do this all night but there’s something more and I have to know it.  "Please tell me," I say.

"Use your thumb."

I press my thumb to her clit and she makes a noise I've never heard before.  It's a growl and a cry, like I've almost hurt her, and I push my thumb down again.  She squeals.  I circle it like the button on a video game.

"Both hands," she pants.  Milking her slit hard with two fingers, I use my other hand to tweak her little hot button.  Instantly I feel the difference.  I slide  down to get a better angle, my chest between her thighs, and am overwhelmed by the desire to lick up the mess I've made.

"No," Kris says like he knows what I'm thinking.  I take it out on her with an extra rub.

"Oh God!" she cries. Her body is so tense I could walk across it like a tight rope.  Bridget bucks in my hand.  I know she's close.  I want to be with her.  I climb back up her body, never stopping my hands, and press in as far as possible.  She wraps her arms around me and holds on, whispering, "Right there, don't stop."  I may never stop.

I feel it before I hear it - that's the real prize.  I know before Kris.  An orgasm rips through her body, clenching so hard I strain to keep my fingers plugged inside her.  My lips find the pulse below her jaw, feel the blood rushing beneath her skin as she pushes her face into my neck and moans.  Everything in her breaks and she spills into my hand, deflating in release.

There's nothing left in the world to be ashamed of, so I grind my crotch right into my hands, still buried in her throbbing core, and come in my pants.  My mouth is open at her ear and I groan with frustration and triumph.  I got her, at least halfway.  And she definitely got me.

I wedge myself in next to her on the chaise and wrap my arms around her naked body.  Never in a million years would I have anticipated what has happened tonight.  Short, sharp breaths rack her rib cage as she tilts her chin up.

With her eyes open, Bridget kisses me.

I lose myself in that kiss, hoping it's not a signal that I've lost everything else.  Hoping it's not a kiss goodbye.  I am more in love with her than ever and tonight is far from over.

She moves beneath me, pulling up as if to go.  I scramble to hold her down but it's not her doing; Kris is hauling her from the chaise.  I think she reaches for me but she's light and I'm drained - he easily takes her toward the bed.

"You won't forget that, will you?  Better than before?" he asks as he lays her gently down and crawls on top of her, hovering above without touching.  Bridget nods weakly.  Hair falls past his face but I'd be invisible to him anyway.  I knew he wasn't here for nothing, but now that I've had her I'm less anxious than ever to share.  I really wish I couldn't read his mind.

What if he can do it and I can't?  What if she wants him after, and not me?

"There's something else you need to remember," he says, and puts his mouth right where mine was moments before.  I dream that she hesitates for a moment against the press of unfamiliar lips.  But then she's kissing him back, her hands raking through that fucking mane of hair.   I watch his hand glide over her breast, hip and thigh before catching behind her knee and pushing up.  He moves gracefully down her body until his head disappears between her legs.

"Ohmygod," Bridget gasps.

I close my eyes but cannot block out the sound.
____

One

BRIDGET

I should no longer be surprised when someone knocks on my hotel room door.

It’s just after ten at night and I’m ready for bed. Green terry cloth shorts are rolled over at my waist - not to make them shorter, just to keep the old things on.  They are pretty short though, I think as I go toward the door.  Not like anyone cares.  Just in case I always wear a bra, until I’m turning off the light.  Good thing too under this thin white t-shirt.

His elbow is up, resting near the hinge as he leans across the doorway.  A mess of long dark hair hangs shaggy around his  scruffy face and eyes so brown they’re almost black give me a once-over before locking onto my gaze.  Sweatpants and a black t-shirt do nothing to hide the muscular build underneath.  If Canada could weaponize his sex appeal, they wouldn’t need a defense program.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Kris asks.

I hear heavy running footsteps, just before Sidney skids to a stop in the hallway.  The stripes on his workout pants curve like a Nascar track where his ass stretches the fabric.  He self-consciously pulls the hem of his baby blue Pens shirt down before running a hand nervously through his short brown hair.  His milky skin is flushed red at the cheeks.

“I’m sor... I just...,” he stutters, hands waving for effect.  “He’s my... oh fuck it.”

Sidney steps over Kris’ feet, pushes me against the door and kisses me.
____

Let me start at the beginning.

I’m a trainer.  I specialize in pain management.  I’m a girl in a man’s world, in a man’s sport, doing a man’s job.  There are reasons not many women are hired to fill this position, especially twenty six year olds, and I’m very well aware of them all.  But I was in the right place at the right time to fill a need, and I’m good at my job.  Once I was past the initial stages there was no reason to see me off.

When you’ve seen a guy naked, it changes things.  As a medical professional, I try to be clinical.  But sometimes I have to tell my ovaries they are grounded for throwing such a wild party.

When you’ve seen a guy cry, it changes everything else.  Big, tough guys, guys who fight and battle and scrap every day are not supposed to be vulnerable.  But a separated shoulder or a busted face is the great equalizer.

The guys here fall into both categories.  I’ve seen most of them mostly naked and I’ve seen most of them cry.  Blood and tears tend to take the shine off pecs and abs.  For some people.

Because of that, we talk.  A lot of them don’t have anyone else to talk to - you can’t take every problem, every question or worry to your bros.  This team gossips more than a sorority and hazes harder than a fraternity.  They are blood brothers but some things need a softer touch.  As the nearest girl, I often win.  I’d like to think I have a reputation for being a good listener and giving sound advice.  They’re young, rich, famous, gorgeous - it’s not like we have much in common.  But they’re people too, and stripped down to their lowest is when they usually need me most.  Pain is pain and I’m here to help.

So back to the story at hand.

Sidney and I stayed in tonight.  He stays in a lot when we’re on the road and Lord knows I can’t keep up with the guys either.  Not if I want to keep my job.  So we watch movies and eat room service and try to pretend he’s not the Second Coming.  Off the ice he’s really just a nice guy who has a weird life and doesn’t want to mess anything up.

He picked up this month’s Cosmo from the dresser and settled onto the second bed in my room while I figured out the movie ordering system.

“Is this true?”

He pointed to a hot pink headline on the cover: Why Most Girls Don’t Orgasm (And So Many Fake It).  

From the story he read some statistics.  “Only about thirty percent of women can orgasm through traditional sex.  Many require additional stimulation through friction or oral play.  A small percentage of women lack the ability to climax at all, a condition that researchers are still studying.”

I put a hand to my face.  “Can you never say ‘oral play’ to me again please?  You shouldn’t be reading that.”

He sat up straight.  “I’m serious, Bridget.  Only thirty percent of girls actually come during sex?  Everyone else is faking it?”

“Oh God, don’t start doing the math!  It does not mean that two thirds of the girls you’ve slept with have faked it,” I said pleadingly.

“But some have.” He looked really hurt.

“Maybe not.  I bet the idea of you being Sidney Crosby is enough to get them off without any sex at all.  Plus, it’s not like you’re Max.  It doesn’t mean six hundred girls have faked it for you.”

Sid laughed, holding up the magazine.  “Max would never believe this.”

“He’d insist on launching his own study,” I added.

He looked thoughtfully at the magazine.  It was an inappropriate topic, but exactly the kind of conversation that went on in the boys club all the time.  I’d learned to roll with it.

“Have you ever?” he asked.

“Faked it?  Ummmmm... yes.”

“With who?”

I held one hand up in a stop motion.  “No one you know.”

“Wait, you faked it because they weren’t good enough to make you orgasm or because you can’t?”

“We are not talking about this.”  I pulled a pillow over my head.

“Oh my God, you can’t!  Bridge, that sucks!  Wait, are you sure it wasn’t just the guys you were with?”

“Not talking about this!”  My voice was muffled by the pillow.  A second later, the mattress dipped as Sidney threw his weight down next to me.  I grabbed at the pillow but he was too quick.  It landed near the floor lamp.

“Seriously.  Was it them?”

I gave in and looked up at him.  “It’s not them.”

The concern on his face was so genuine I had to fight the urge to laugh.  Only Sidney would be worried for me.  Only he was that nice.  He was so... Canadian.

“So you’ve never?”

“You idiot!” I smacked him with a backup pillow.  “Of course I have.  Just never from sex alone.”

His face stayed blank a moment, then his eyes went wide as he put it together.  And he blushed, a hot red flash in his face.

“Oh, right.”

Right.  Because we’re talking about me touching myself during sex.  Perfectly normal.  Any friends would do it.

“No more magazines for you,” I told him.

He smiled and I thought he had nothing to worry about.  Women would come from that alone.

“Are you kidding?  There’s so much to learn!”
____

“What are you doing?!” I jump backward out of his arms and pull him into the room.  Kris follows and quickly shuts the door so we’re all out of sight from prying eyes.  I gape at Sidney, the taste of his toothpaste still in my mouth, and he stares back.  

It wasn’t just a kiss hello.  It was a full body contact, open mouth kiss with tongue and the solid outline of his dick pressed deep into my lower stomach.  It was a kiss full of sex and promise and maybe even that other thing I’ve been missing.

“Sidney told me about the magazine,” Kris broke the ice like a hostage negotiator.  “I am very concerned about this.”

I wasn’t able to move, but I felt my face turning purple.  Sid’s brown eyes glowed an almost  hazel color in the odd hotel room lighting as he just stood there.  

I lost sight of him when Kris touched me, two fingers running down the bare length of my arm.  It was like a knife, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.  He was so close I could smell the dark, warm scent of his skin.

“I told him that I think you have been with the wrong guys,” he said in that soft accent.  “I think there are things you don’t know yet.”  

I couldn’t look at Kris.  I was going to have an earth-shattering orgasm if he touched me again and if I looked at him, I’d be begging for it.  My body trembled like a tuning fork at the pitch of his voice.

“Let me try,” he said was barely above a whisper.  I swear I could feel his breath on my neck from two feet away.  “Let me try and no one has to know.”

“No.”  Sidney came to life.  “Not him.  Me.  Let me try.  I... I want to, Bridget.”

Dead silence.  Like floating through outer space - no sound, no air, no way I’m getting out of this alive.

“Are you two crazy?!” I hiss.  “What are you talking about?  I’m not having sex with either of you and I’m not some kind of science experiment!”  I round on Sidney.  “I can’t believe you told him!  Should I tell him some of the things you’ve told me?”  

My voice drops to an accusing whisper.  “And did you really just kiss me?!”

His brow furrows right down the center, a sure sign that he’s mad.  I’ve embarrassed him but he’s done the same to me, and what the fuck is Kris thinking standing here, touching me, offering to correct my history like some kind of sexual good Samaritin?   I think Sidney’s going to yell, but instead he just bursts into my space and kisses me again.  His arms lock around my sides, pinning my arms, and there’s nothing I can do.

Except kiss him back.  My mouth declares civil war on my brain and opens beneath his rough insistence.  His tongue slides over mine, velvety despite the force, and I hear myself whimper.  His full, pouty lips are so soft and he’s kissing me so hard.  My head swims.

Like a predator, Kris doesn’t miss his chance to strike.  His big hand is hot against my neck as he lifts my hair and presses his mouth to the delicate skin.  I gasp a breath straight from Sid’s lungs and he’s just as surprised as I am.

“What are you doing?!” he barks, but doesn’t let go of me.

Kris barely takes his lips from the spot behind my ear.  I can’t see him, but I picture his doe eyes slowly focusing, like a vampire so sure of his superiority that no one will steal his fresh kill.

“I think,” Kris purrs, the vibrations traveling across my skin like a telegraph wire, “that if you can’t, then I can.”

“No,” we both say.  Sid says it to Kris.  I say it to both of them.

“No,” Sidney repeats.

“Afraid of a game you can’t win?”

What has gotten into him, I think.  Kris and Sid are best friends, joined at the hip by an inherent shyness and the fact they’re both good guys in a world of bad boys.  Of all the things happening right now, their competition may be the weirdest.

“I know you have wanted this for a long time.  Maybe it is time you got it,” Kris says, and Sidney’s face drains of color to be called out in front of me.  Then Kris puts his mouth to my ear.  “But for a problem like this, I suggest teamwork.”

Sidney’s eyes are full of fear.  They’re also inches from mine, looking down as he still holds me tight to his chest.  For him this was a really bold, brave move.  If he’s wanted me for a long time then I never knew.  And he would probably never do anything about it.  Kris is the catalyst; he’s not about to walk away and leave his project unfinished.  Maybe he’s really the best friend Sidney ever had.

But I can’t let Sid lose this one.  Our friendship is turned upside down anyway - there’s no going back now.  But forward... well, I’d have to be dead not to want him.  And not just that ass and the mouth that just kissed me into a puddle, but the fear and the competitive streak and the way he laughs like a girl.  Suddenly I want very, very much to be wrong about what I can’t do.

Heaven help me.

I kiss him.  I barely move a muscle to put my lips right on his.  In shock he grips me so tight I squeak.  He instantly relaxes but doesn’t apologize.  Instead he takes my proffered mouth and my breath away at the same time.

Kris chuckles darkly at the turn of events.  He dumps my hair over my far shoulder and slides his hand down over my ass.  Against a fresh, a virgin patch of skin he whispers:

“Cherie, I promise tonight you will.”
_