Page 22 of Goalie Secrets

Blood shoots south. Shit.Shit, I cannot have a fucking hard-on right now. Not again! What is wrong with me?Think of something else, you idiot. Anything!

Kale. Rice cakes.Fuck, I need something more disgusting.Tripe!

Vanya shifts her body so she’s perpendicular to me, her hands rubbing the outside of my leg from hip to knee.

“Can you take more?”

Her voice is too sultry for my sanity. Why does everything that comes out of her mouth sound sexual?

Kale. Rice cakes. Tripe.

“Now, I want you to push your knee gently into my hands, about 25 percent of your strength.” I focus on the movement and am rewarded with a steady unfurling of my body’s knots.

“That’s good,” I manage. “Really good.”

“Excellent.” She sounds like a teacher who’s as caring as she is sexy. Had no idea that combination would do it for me, but here we are.

“Hold it for five seconds, then relax,” Vanya prompts.

I concentrate on her instructions and not on the way her palm glides over my skin.

“Perfect, Jeremy. That’s it.” It’s barely audible which makes her words even more intimate. “Can we do it a few times? Would you be OK with that?”

That’s difficult to answer, because although my hips are better, my control is shit. Vanya’s precise application of resistance relaxes me. Unfortunately, the feeling of being tucked into the cocoon of her care is creating tension elsewhere. I keep my mouth shut and think of other things.

Kale. Rice cakes. Tripe.

“That was excellent. You can get on your back now,” she says while sliding off the table.

Nope. No way can I get on my back and display my tented pants.

“Mind if I take a bathroom break?” I ask to buy some time.

“Of course. I’ll prepare the TENS unit.”

She means the machine that sends electrical nerve stimulation through my body. What sounds like torment actually aids pain management. When I return, Vanya hooks me up using adhesive electrode pads.

“You’ll feel a mild tingling sensation when I turn it on. Let me know if it becomes too intense at any point.”

She attaches the small clips from the TENS unit to each pad and then adjusts the settings on the device.

“Alright, here we go. I’m starting at a low intensity. You should feel a slight tingling.”

I’ve done this before, so I know the range I can take. The session requires me to receive electric stimulation for ten or so minutes. Getting zapped is another example of the glamorous life of an NHL goaltender.

“Are you heading to Musical Monday next week?” I ask Vanya, who has yet to stop scribbling on an iPad. “It’sWest Side Story. The redo from a few years ago. It’s so much better,” I state confidently.

“I don’t think it’s better. The first film was revolutionary.” Eyes widening, she presses a hand against her chest, as if insulted.

“I can’t believe you are going to defend lip-syncing and brown face. Nearly every Puerto Rican character in the original movie was played by a white person with darkening makeup,” I argue, truly insulted.

“I know, I know.” She rolls her eyes. “Just that it was such a big part of my childhood. As an Indian kid living in a majority white neighborhood, it was cool to see brown people on the screen.”

“You imagined yourself as Maria, didn’t you?”

“Obviously!” That wide smile makes her face glow.

I decide not to bug her about the fact that Natalie Wood, the actress who played Maria, was as white as snow.