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I got to Sunday's practice early enough to catch Pete as he was headed out onto the ice. He looked a little confused when I said I needed to talk to him after practice, particularly when I said he should catch me before he showered. But since he was blocking the path to the ice for his teammates, he didn't stop to ask.

I had just started my book when Steve plopped down next to me.

"Well, hello stranger," I greeted him.

He tipped an imaginary hat in reply.

"Don't normally see you here at this time. What brings you 'round to these parts?" I drawled.

"Well, ma'am," he replied, "I heard that there was a beautiful woman reading a book by herself somewhere around here."

"Where?" I quickly twisted around looking everywhere before Steve stopped me and gave me a gentle kiss. We just grinned at each other for a while.

"I think I found her," he murmured, before kissing me again.

Awww.

We chitchatted a bit and watched the hockey practice for a while. I could tell something was on Steve's mind, though. I was starting to recognize the tenseness behind his eyes.

"So," he finally said, turning to me, "did we go too fast last night?"

I let out a deep breath and chuckled.

"No," I reassured him. "No next day regrets."

He visibly relaxed.

"I was a little nervous about getting caught," I continued, "but I trusted you."

"That's really good to hear," Steve said, "that you trusted me." The strength had returned to his voice.

"I must admit," I said, "I'm not used to it. To trusting a guy."

Steve grinned. "Maybe you just hadn't met the right guy."

I nodded my head in acknowledgement. He reached over and squeezed my hand. Then he turned back to watching the practice, still clasping my fingers in his.

Had I? Had I met a man I could trust?

I certainly hadn't resisted in taking my panties off when he'd asked. That certainly wasn't typical for me. Then I remembered the caress of his fingers and began grinning. Steve looked over and grinned back. He squeezed my hand again.

Oh yes, I wanted this man.

Practice finished up and we wandered to the door to the women's locker room. Pete was there almost immediately, sweaty in his full gear and still carrying his helmet and stick.

"What's up, Liz?" he asked.

"It's Sandy," I replied, motioning towards the locker room door. "She wants you to wash her back."

The look of surprise on his face was priceless. Pete started at stunned, then shifted to disbelief, then eager delight.

"Wow!" he finally panted. "Here," he said, thrusting his stick and helmet at Steve. Then Pete pushed past us and entered the locker room.

"What am I going to do with this?" Steve mused, looking at the hockey stick in his hand.

"Restart your little league career?" I suggested.

"Nah. Never could shoot."

"Tell me about it."

So he did. We found a comfortable place to sit against the wall where we could stand guard against any unintentional intrusions on Sandy and Pete, and Steve told me about playing hockey. He told me about the thrill of speeding down the ice and the joy in slapping the puck hard. Inaccurately, he admitted, but hard. He talked about some of his mishaps—learning how to skate backwards and how to hit the boards without knocking himself down. He got me laughing at the antics of his younger self, Stevie Bowman, determined future Hall of Famer for the Red Wings. I leaned into him and then we shifted until I had my head in his lap, lying on the floor. He held me and stroked my arms as we laughed and shared stories and passed the time.

Oh, this happiness was heady stuff!

I lay there thinking about how incredible this man was—smart, funny, warm, strong, good in bed. Well, I could only assume that last one, but I already knew I was itching to find out for sure. And speaking of itching--a thought at the back of my mind kept trying to claw its way to consciousness. Eventually it did.

Why me?

Finally it bugged me enough to ask.

"Besides the fact that you're smart, beautiful, funny, and have great legs?" Steve replied.

I playfully slapped him on the arm. He pulled me back to sitting so he could look in my eyes when he spoke next.

"It's the mix, Liz," he stated. "You're the right balance of fire and gentleness I need."

"Go on."

"I'm a Dom. From time to time I need to be able to do things like we did last night."

I blushed at his grin.

"You both enjoyed it and didn't run away screaming. Even when I asked you today about having any regrets.

"But I'm not a Dom 24/7. I need a partner who isn't passive and submissive all the time. Who can tease and push back when it's called for. Who can take charge sometimes and not need me to be in control all the time."

"Do you remember when we met?" Steve asked. "You flirted with me and I just shut you down. I made it clear I wasn't interested in flirting at all. But instead of moving on to the next guy or trying to come on even harder, you switched to friendly banter about my choice of team to root for.

"You were the one that approached me at Pete and Sandy's next game, remember?"

Indeed, I did.

"That's when I realized that you were interested in me as a person, not because of what I could do for you. Or to you." His eyes clouded with that last sentence, remembering.

I squeezed his hand in the silence.

"You don't want me only for what I can do," he uttered finally.

"No," I said, smiling at him. "Though it doesn't hurt."

"It only hurts if you want it to," he joked. That earned him another playful swat on the arm.

"But," I said, "there have to be hundreds of women out there who have that balance."

"You'd be surprised."

"But still."

"I don't have a shopping list. I'm not interviewing candidates for the position of 'Steve's girlfriend.' Instead, it's the way my pulse quickens when I see you. It's the way I smile at the sound of your voice."

Steve looked at me and his eyes softened.

"You're an incredible woman, Liz, in a number of ways. You may not be able to see that quite the way I do, but it's true. I see a lot, and I'm very good at noticing the details that count. You're a beautiful woman. Inside and out."

Who was I to argue with that?

I leaned back into him and we just cuddled in silence until Sandy and Pete emerged, goofily grinning and hanging all over each other.

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I moonlight as a gigolo pleasuring women in that age group so connecting with that group of women was very appealing to me. I kept asking my female clientele and network about the group but always drew a blank response. However, in due course a lady who introduced herself as Nancy over the phone asked me if I would like to be the ‘featured man’ (her words) for their next meeting. She explained that the women were all high profile people in business and government, all were single, all were...

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