8. Roth

"Please,can you just look at me?" I crawled closer, plastering on my most forlorn look, hoping to get a wee bit of something other than another cold shoulder. "I didn't know it would be all night when I told you I'd see you in a few hours. Can you give me a little kiss? I have treats."

Amadeus sat staring out the sliding door, nose in the air, highly put out with me. I wiggled closer, the carpet burning my elbows and the strip of my exposed belly.

"Are you swapping kisses for treats?" Paul asked from the corner of the room where he was toweling his hair dry.

"Yes, I have no shame," I replied, flopping to my back with a homemade dog cookie purchased at the doggie daycare counter just for this exact thing. Amadeus had delicate feelings. He hated to be left for too long, and even though his friend Bogart the Pug had been with him overnight, I was still in the doghouse.

"If I lean down to kiss you, will you give me a treat?" Paul asked, dropping his towel to the floor. My gaze strayed from my upset dog to my sexy lover. And what a lover he was. My body was still tingling from our lovemaking this morning. I'd woken up with a fat, stiff dick nestled between my ass cheeks. Being a cheery sort, I rolled over, smiled at my sleepy lover, then wiggled down under the covers to suck him off. I'd been doing a damn good job of things, if his growls and grunts were any indication, when he pulled me off and tossed me to my back. He then plowed me like a cornfield until we both blew apart. Kisses, cuddles, and a shower with breakfast in bed followed. My ass was tender, yes, but I was not complaining.

"I gave you a treat a few hours ago," I replied, moving to lie on my side. I caught Amadeus looking at me. When he saw me, he turned his head. "My goodness, my dog is such a diva." I sighed, then waved the peanut butter cookie in the air. His nose twitched and his tail gave a small wag. "I'll give you the whole treat if you come give Daddy a kiss of forgiveness."

"Do you think he knows a whole treat from a half?" Paul asked, stepping into a pair of dark gray briefs. Mm, he had a marvelous high ass and thighs like Roman marble pillars.

"Yes, of course he does." I stared at the ceiling wishing that he had a loving pup of his own, so then he would know that dogs totally knew if you were ripping them off.

"I'm not so sure, but you know him better than I do." Amadeus decided that he had held out long enough—the whole cookie bribe always worked—and paraded over to me. He sat down beside my head and tapped my nose with a paw. I fed him the cookie. "He's got you wrapped around his little finger. Toe, I guess."

"I know." I sighed, reveling in the sight of Paul moving so gracefully around the room in nothing but his underwear while my dog snuggled into my side to chew his cookie into tiny bits. "If you could have a dog, what kind would you want?"

"Oh, that's easy. A golden retriever. I'd name him Sam."

Wow, that was a quick answer. So he had thought about getting a pet, pretty seriously by the sounds. I so wanted to be able to help him out with that, maybe offer to watch Sam when he was off doing his hockey thing, but that would be really pushy and clingy. This, as wonderful as the past few days had been, was a short-lived romance. If one could even call it a romance. A fling was probably the proper term. That made me sad. If anyone had long-term potential boyfriend stamped on his forehead, it was Paul Rocha. "Do we really have to do things today?" I asked, hoping to stretch out this lovely private time. There wouldn't be much left after the awards tonight. "Can't we just laze around your room, eat, fuck, and then go to the dinner tonight? I would love to finish that blow job…"

I untied the robe to flash him. He smiled down at me from over by the wardrobe. "As good as that sounds and looks, I do have to show my face at the pre-party." He padded over, a red tie in his hand, and hunkered down beside me. His rough finger traced my belly button then skimmed up to rub a nipple into stiffness. "You're temptation personified, you know that?"

"I am?" I coyly asked.

"You are." He stole a kiss, then rose. Amadeus sniffled at my fingers to see if I had another cookie hidden in my hand. I opened it to show him it was empty and got a huff. "If you don't want to do the pre-party, that's fine."

"No, no, I should go. I am your companion for the next two days. Fully paid for in advance," I said, sitting up and taking his hand to go to my bare feet.

"I'd want to take you to this ceremony anyway…I just want you to know that." He pulled me into his chest. I went willingly, snuggling in close to rub my nose into the springy red curls.

"I know, and I'd want to go with you too, even if there wasn't a contract obligating me to attend. You're special, Paul." I went to my toes to get a final taste of his mouth before I had to leave. "I'll meet you at the elevator in thirty minutes."

"Do you mean an hour?" he teased as I tied his robe tightly and then picked up my dog.

"Oh, yes, at least that," I tossed over my shoulder then snuck down the hall, dog under one arm, last night's clothes under the other, Paul's huge robe hanging off one shoulder. The walk of shame that held no shame at all.

* * *

Ninety minutes later I emerged from the bathroom, resplendent in my Billy Porter inspired ensemble of bright pink peonies on a black background top, high-waisted pink skirt, and black open-toed heels. My hair was slicked back from my face and my makeup was on point.

Paul was sitting with Amadeus who, sadly, was not allowed to attend the awards or after awards parties we were going to. He glanced up, looking super handsome in a navy blue pinstriped suit, crisp white shirt, and blue with white polka dot tie. His beard was trimmed close to his strong jaw and his red hair was tidy.

"Wow," he said as I made a small spin to show him the big bow on the back of my top. When he didn't utter anything else, I felt a pang of anxiety. "Am I too much? I can go lighter on the makeup and wear flats if you think?—"

"I think you look amazing," he replied, standing and walking toward me. He clasped my hands. "You're the most beautiful man I have ever seen." A pleasant little blush crept up to my cheeks. "Do me a favor?"

"Yes, of course." I gripped his large fingers tightly.

"If I balk or trip over the shit that my father had hammered into my head at any time tonight, remind me I'm not that man anymore. Tell me I'm the luckiest puck pusher in all of Florida to have a lovely creature like you on my arm."

"I'll remind you," I croaked out, unable to really speak because of the lump of feelings wedged tightly into my Adam's apple. How was it possible to be so far gone over a person in such a short span of time? What kind of dark magic had been cast on me? "We should go. We have to take Amadeus to the daycare center. I hope they're not going to bankrupt me with the cost of him staying so often."

"They won't. All the extras are on me." He lifted my freshly manicured fingers to his lips. His mustache tickled as he kissed my knuckles.

We gathered up Amadeus and delivered him to Laura, who would take him to the daycare for me so I didn't get dog hair on my outfit. She and Laura gushed over the two of us as we passed over my sulking Pomapoo. With busses on the cheeks, we parted with the promise that Laura would meet us in the Golden Twilight conference room downstairs. We made our way down to the lobby, Dee chatting away as Paul and I nervously held each other's hands. Stepping out of that elevator was akin to exiting a limo at the Oscars, not that I'd ever been, but I watched every awards show so that I could see what the big names were wearing. Beautiful women and big, rough-looking men were filing into the hotel, the press was present, snapping pictures and shoving phones or microphones into the jocks' faces. The women with them merely smiled and/or nodded, something that I wasn't sure my nervous mouth would allow me to do.

When the doors closed behind us, it seemed every pair of eyes in that frantic lobby spun to the two of us. I peeked up to see Paul pale just a bit. I gave his hand a squeeze as my gut burbled anxiously. His gaze met mine.

"You're the luckiest puck pusher in all of Florida to have such a lovely creature on your arm," I managed to push out.

He smiled down at me, tucked my hand into the crook of his arm, and led us into the media fray. I'd never had my picture taken so often. And no, I knew it wasn't me they were all gawking over…it was Paul. And the fact that he had the balls to bring a man in a pink skirt to a hockey awards presentation. I was incredibly proud of him. From the little that he had shared about his father in our brief time together, I knew he was pushing through some pretty big mental shit right now. I pray his dad sees a picture of us together tomorrow morning and chokes on his Canadian bacon.

Dee, bright as a star in a pale yellow cocktail dress, steered us through the mobs of reporters to those that, I suspected, she knew were LGBTQ allies. The first one that we stopped to speak with, a bright-eyed young lady with multiple piercings and wild yellow hair, asked Paul one question, then, amazingly, turned her attention to me.

"Your outfit is amazing. Who is it?"

"It's mine. I'm a sewist, and I create outfits for pet owners and their furbabies," I announced a little more loudly than I probably should have. Paul beamed down at me as I began to blabber on about my website, online store, and how fun it was to be able to work with people and their pets.

"We have to get inside," Dee whispered, smiling at the reporter and then steering Paul and me toward the dining hall. "You two are going to be on the cover of every sports page tomorrow morning. I have never seen so many uptight mouths fall open, so please, both of you, be prepared for an influx of both terrible and awesome comments on social media for the next few weeks."

"Okay," I whispered, nerves knotting my belly, as Paul nodded. He appeared to be nonplussed about the possibility of something bad being said about him online. I would imagine that his coming out had been a big old shitstorm, so maybe this was nothing in comparison. I stalled right outside the huge ballroom where hundreds of tables and athletes could be seen through the open doors. Paul glanced down. "I'm scared for you."

"What on earth for?" he asked, moving to the side to let a man and woman walk past.

"For what you're going to have to hear being seen with me. Maybe I should slip out before you get your award."

"I haven't won yet," he softly reminded me, his hand holding mine tightly.

"You will. You're the most amazing man to ever make hockey."

That got me a giggle from Dee and a grin from Paul. "I would love for you to be seated right beside me if?—"

"When," I corrected, shuffling to the left to make room for several big men, all of whom greeted Paul warmly and then gave me confused but pleasant nods.

"Okay, fine, when I win. Will you stay and clap for me?"

I searched his eyes and felt myself falling pretty much hopelessly in love with the big galoot that very instant.

"Yes, of course." He pecked my cheek, careful of my makeup, and then, with his head held high, escorted me into a room packed so full of testosterone you could taste it on the air.

The next few hours were a blur of names, bad jokes, trophies, and hockey jargon. Oh, and several dozen sales. Seemed my brand name was taking off among the hockey wife set. I had orders for big dogs, small dogs, cats, and even someone wanting a vest for their ferret. Which was a first, but hey, I was up to sewing anything! It was kind of daunting to be honest, sitting there with Paul as I tallied up orders that were waiting. I'd be sewing like a fiend for weeks. Thanks to this job I could?—

Paul laughed at something someone on stage said. I lowered my phone, sighed, and realized that I'd have to give back the money that was in my checking account. How could I possibly take cash for this amazing holiday when my feelings for him were this strong?

You're being a ninny! He's not in love with you. He's getting on a plane tomorrow and will probably never think of you again!

Ouch. Shit. Sadly, that was probably the case, but still, if we had just been cool and distant, yeah, I'd totally be spending that money already. But we'd not. We'd been tender and intimate and shared things with each other.

"…and the winner is Paul Rocha!" I heard as people broke into applause all around me. I lowered my phone to find Paul grinning at me. Me. Not the people around him or the cameras, but me, the little femme man in pink peonies. I shot to my feet, clapping madly. He got to his feet, gave my shoulder a soft touch, and then jogged onto the stage. The room quieted. I was still standing and applauding. Dee gave me a poke in the behind. Cheeks red, I sat down and flipped over my phone. I'd worry about the end tomorrow. Tonight I'd bask in being the man staring up at Paul with stars in my eyes.