Hockey Chick

Back in the 90s I had an affair with a punk rock singer. Claudia wasn't the prettiest girl in the East Village, in fact some of my friends considered her ugly, because of her long twisting nose, however Slatta liked me and no woman in New York had liked me for a long time, so I liked her back. Aa a single mom she preferred coming to my small apartment on East 10th Street. One winter evening Claudia showed up unexpectedly with a bottle of wine. "You're not busy?" The skinny singer opened the bottle with a corkscrew. After a month together she was familiar with my apartment's arrangement of kitchen utensils. "Not at all." The Boston Bruins were playing the Rangers on MSG. "Do you like hockey?" She sat on the couch, handing me a glass of wine. "The Bruins are my team." I was wearing a game jersey which was a Christmas gift from the older of my younger brothers. "I like watching you watching hockey." Claudia unzipped my jeans. "I don't have much time. My son will be home in 90 minutes." "Then I guess you better hurry." I began to pull off my shirt. "Don't bother." She pushed down my hands. "I'll take care of you." "If you insist." I wasn't putting up an argument. Two minutes later the Bruins scored on a power play, then another ten minutes later Ray Bourque tapped in a deflection. At the end of the second period Claudia rose from her knees. I was shivering from her attention. She cleared her mouth with a sip of wine. "That was fun." "Yeah." I wasn't much of a post-coital speaker. "Is your team winning?" She picked up her bag from the floor and walked to the door. "By two goals." "I guess I'm good luck." I guess you are." The door shut and I was alone. The Bruins held on for the win and I finished the rest of the wine, grateful for Claudia's visit. She might not have been pretty, but she was good luck as far as the Bruins were concerned and that made her beautiful in my eyes.