20. Vodka Punch

Please keep the comments coming, I love knowing your reactions, and constructive criticism is very, very welcome.

This one is in two parts - the second part should be up by tomorrow.

Song: The Magic Numbers - Mornings Eleven


JORDAN’S POV - PART ONE


After an exhausting eight days on the road and a successful Western conference visit with five victories in the bag our team spirit was high and we were all looking forward to getting back to Pittsburgh. To celebrate, I’d decided to throw a massive party at mine.

“Dude, I’ve decided to move out,” TK said, flopping down in the seat next to me. About fucking time... But who’s gonna help me throw post-road trip or home game parties?
“Kelsey asked me to move in with her, since I’m practically living there.”

“Yeah, that’s great man,” I said punching him in the arm. TK grinned and nodded like one of those stupid nodding dogs. I'd miss having him around the apartment but it was the next step in his relationship and TK and Kelsey have been together for ages.

“I’ll help you out with the party, is that chick coming?” Ella. I hope so. I nodded my thanks, taking out my phone and texting her.

“Party at mine at 8.30 tonight. Bring Gina. Miss you X”

I shouldn’t have said I missed her, too clingy, but it was too late now, it had been sent. We’d spoken or texted every day since I’d been away which was a bit strange at first but I did kind of like it. And she was hot. And the sex was phenomenal. I still couldn’t help but wonder if she was a puck bunny – God only knows how many PBs I’ve gone through, but there was something about her I couldn’t put my large finger on.

“You come meet Alyonka with me?” Geno asked from across the aisle, snapping me out of my thoughts. I frowned. Why would I want to meet that stupid Alyonka - the world’s most incoherent reporter? Sid and I can’t stand her.

“Why Geno?” What the fuck would I want with her anyway? Been there done that. One drunken night. Dumb question Geno. Anyway, I heard she was with Ovie now. That sounds about right - Ovie taking Geno's leftovers.

“Come cook Russian food.” No, just no. Geno’s cooking isn’t acceptable in a third world country – what makes him think I want to eat it. I knew Mr. Nice Guy would probably agree to it – he always agrees to things.
“Go ask Tanger,” I watched Geno’s retreating back head forward a few rows before turning back to TK and tonight’s party. It was going to be epic seeing as it would also be TK’s last as a co-host in my apartment. This one had to be better, noisier and wilder than the last one. That in itself was going to be hard to achieve – my parties are legendary. Ella would be here for this one, so I had to make it extra good, you know, to impress her.

“Supermarket for beer, tequila, limes, lemon and punch, clean apartment, nap time, order pizza, PARTY,” TK said out loud, listing off what we needed to do before tonight as I drove my car back towards our apartment block.

“Man why are we cleaning before we party? Shouldn’t be do that after?” Sometimes TK makes no sense at all. I question his ability as a man, and at times my friend, though he always has my back.

TK shook his head at me disapprovingly. “You want to impress this chick? You clean before so she thinks you’re domesticated. Dude, do I really have to tell you?” TK looked at me as if I had a giant bogey hanging out of my nose. Maybe I should listen to him – he is the one in the serious relationship.


Fifteen crates of beer, a well stocked fridge and ten bottles of tequila later, I retreated to my bedroom leaving TK to clean up. If he had insisted on cleaning beforehand, he can do it. The apartment looked good – the large smoke cannon in one corner of the living room with the green flashy light system, I’d made the breakfast bar into a temporary bar. We’d brought a huge plant pot to serve as the punch bowl; TK had brought some gay, long, neon straws for it, and all that was left was for me to get ready. The place looked good. I know I don’t have to worry about the neighbours, if there’s a problem I’ll just invite them in, and the lady who lives in the other apartment on my floor is deaf so she’s not missing out.

TK had done a pretty good job of cleaning; everything shone and looked too clean. About as clean as when I first bought the apartment, which was a while ago now. I leaned back against the island as TK came running into the kitchen, skidding to a halt in his socks on the wooden floor, just before he crashed into one of the stools.
“Punch!” he shouted. Shit, how could we forget to make the punch?

Together we poured cartons of orange and cranberry juice into the huge pot, before adding a few litres of vodka and Malibu. Hopefully Geno wouldn’t notice we’d used cheap vodka and not Russian Standard like last time. TK got a whisk out to mix the punch together. Who uses a whisk?



“Hey Ella,” I said opening the door. She looked h-o-t. She was wearing skinny jeans which only emphasised her incredibly long, skinny legs and this pretty navy blue top which hung elegantly from her frame. Her hair looked messy, as if she’d just had crazy sex, and I was dying to run my hands through it. Standing just beside her was Gina, whom I hadn’t seen since the hospital. I grinned, letting them both into the apartment, giving Ella a lingering kiss on the cheek. She always smelt so good, like exotic fruits and spring flowers. I’m looking forward to my bed smelling that good later, I thought, closing the door after Max was entered. Why was he here early again? Max always turns up late

“Max, TK, I want you to meet Ella and Gina,” I introduced them. Gina took a seat at the bar, and started pouring out the punch into glasses for us.

“Ahh, enchanté,” Max said as he kissed Ella on both cheeks. I grimaced, I hadn’t even kissed her twice yet and he’d already just done that. Anyhow it’s not like he would ever get any closer to Ella.

“Ella’s from Montreal,” I said to Max whose smile grew even bigger.

“Ehhh… Me Too. Quelle coïncidence? Didn’t I tell you Montreal women are the most beautiful in the world?” he said looking between me and TK, giving Ella his trademark wink.

“Shame the same can’t be said about Montréal men,” Ella replied coolly, taking a sip of her punch. Ella 1 – Max 0. I love girls taking Max down. TK let out a insane cackle of laughter causing Max to hit him in the stomach as he doubled over, winded.

After checking that everyone had a drink, I led Ella away to the couch, pulling her down next to me. I wanted to get her alone, away from Max’s eager glance, leaving TK and Max to entertain Gina. I wanted a repeat of the last time she was here. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her and my hands were itching to touch her. Effectively she was my personal magnet, drawing me closer whenever she was in the room. I pulled her onto my lap, one arm around her waist and the other on her leg. “Jordannnn,” she breathed as I began kissing her neck, as she sat on my lap. I felt the vibrations in her throat when she spoke, wondering what it’d be like to have the same vibrations around my cock. I haven’t seen her for eight days, I want her, and she looks fucking incredible tonight.

“Can we send people home?” I asked, looking around at Max, TK and Gina. Max was trying to charm the pants of Gina as they both sat at the bar together whilst TK tried to make himself invisible by the fridge. They probably wouldn’t notice if we disappeared for half an hour or so.

“No, later. You’re throwing a party… and besides, I want to meet your friends,” she whispered, running a long finger down my arm, sending shivers down my spine. My friends are my teammates. She turned her neck, giving me a long kiss on the lips before freeing herself from my grasp, tugging my hands to get me to stand up. Only I couldn’t… I grabbed the cushion next to me, knowing it’d have to be at least thirty seconds before I stood up. I watched Ella joke with TK, seeing how natural she seemed around my friends. Max was wrong – she was about as far from puck bunny as possible. She didn’t have a clue about hockey but didn’t feel that she had to pretend to which was refreshing.

Gina and Max seemed to be hitting it off. Max needed to talk to ‘normal’ girls who weren’t just interested in having ‘the superstar treatment’ as he put it nor the seemingly endless groups of girls who threw themselves at him.

“PARTYYYYYY!” I cried, holding my cup of punch in the air as Kelsey, Flower, Vero, Sid and Geno arrived. I heard Max whoop loudly behind me, as he downed his drink before cranking the music up, and dragging Ella and Gina off to the dance floor in the lounge.

“You got her,” Geno said quietly to me gesturing to Ella, as he slipped a bottle of ‘proper’ Russian vodka out of his coat pocket. Trust him to bring the ‘real deal’.
I nodded. “Yeah, she’s great, you should meet her,” I said before Geno went off to join the dancing. I had a feeling tonight was going to be good.


Everyone was trashed, me included. No one looked remotely sober, not even el Sid. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Ella who had been dancing with Geno and Tanger whilst I manned the bar with Sid who was trying (and failing) to match my drinking. The last thing I need is to send le capitain home to Mario’s in a taxi. Normally I hate ending people’s fun, but I wanted everyone out of there so I could spend some time with Ella.

“Gronk, go and dance with her, I’ll stay here,” Sid said tiredly watching me. I didn’t need any encouragement as I bounded over to the dance floor and wrapped my hands around her waist. She grinned, and turned her back on me as we began to dance, dancing and grinding against each other, slowing moving away into the corner.

“Can we throw everyone out now?” I asked with my back to everyone, pressing Ella into the wall. I was captivated by her deep, green eyes and knew I was staring. She just had that effect on me. She shook her head.

“It’s only half eleven,” she said, not breaking eye contact with me, slowly licking her lips. Why did she just do that? What chance do I have now? I pressed my lips against hers as she stood on tip toes to string her hands around the back of my neck.

I could hear Max yelling wildly... "Strippers!" he shouted.
Strippers?! Who the fuck called for strippers?!