JOHN

It began as just an idle comment one night as a group of us were commiserating on the news that the hockey season was finally declared unsalvageable. I mentioned we should just play pond hockey instead and out of that came the craziest plan of all the recent crazy plans dreamed up in this bar of ours.

We were going to play pond hockey.

Now that might not seem too way out for most of you but, you must remember, the average male regular here is an Australian who is about as comfortable on ice as I would be in a ballet. When I look back on it now, the absurdity of the challenge just blows my mind. But...well, here's the thing. Never throw the gauntlet down at a man from Oz. He is honour bound to take it up. It's some kind of macho thing they do.

A bit like men from Alaska.

From there it snowballed. Most of the men were eager to play. A couple of the women joined in. Not sure how happy I was about that except for two things - Clarity is tougher than she looks - and I figured that the presence of a few girls might just restrain some of the more aggressive guys.

Not sure I was right in my assumption there.

Before I knew what was going on, Grant and I were heading two teams, Ann had designed the kits, taunts were being thrown and victory already being claimed by both sides. This thing was fast become a runaway train. All I could do was try and stop the wreck.

Or make sure my side won.

The teams were pretty evenly matched although some thought I had the best of the bunch. Not sure about that. Some of them are dark horses.  I never trust an Aussie. They can master a sport in two days and beat the shit out of the champions in three. It's a fact. In the all time lists of the most world championships in sport across the board, Australia is way in the lead.

If you can believe anything Terry Thorne says, that is. 

CLARITY

I took pity on the Australian boys. What chance did they have next to my John and the others who had been familiar with ice almost all their lives? Although I was as determined as any for my team to win at all costs, I love those guys too much to want them to make fools of themselves, so I offered my services as a skating coach in the days that led up to the game. Of course, that led to a lot of dirty talk - you know how they are - but I think I could also see relief on some faces. I was sure most had never put on blades before!

My worst fears were confirmed when I turned up at the ice rink. There were my brave Australian boys, shivering and complaining even in an indoor arena. What a lot of fuss they made about being cold! Every phrase they knew to signify being chilled was rolled out:

"I'm freezing my tits off here..."

"It's bloody colder than a witch's tit..."

"I'm so cold, I can't find my dick..."

"My bollocks are like ice cubes..."

"My arse's wet...and cold..."

Are these the formidable Australians we have heard so much about? 

But, I have to say that once they started, they began to get into the swing of things. They are determined and athletic, no one can deny that, and when they stopped fooling about like puppy dogs at play, they picked up the rudiments fairly quickly and before long they were racing each other around and confident enough even to start jostling and pushing. My best pupils were, surprisingly, some of the younger men - Johnny, Andy, Jack C and Jeff. Lachlan spent most of his time on his back but that might have had something to do with the fact that he couldn't stop laughing. He simply wouldn't take it seriously.

Colin was mostly disgruntled, Dominic nervous, East had natural balance but seemed to think skating was effeminate and Hando was sullen although he did pick up the essentials fast enough. A few days were hardly enough to master the skill but it was all we had - so we did our best.

I was feeling quite nervous about the whole thing. It was really important to me that John's team -my team- won. After all, John is the ice hockey expert here and passionate about the game. For his sake I do not want this to degenerate into a free for all. He wants a fair game and an opportunity to show what he can do.

By nature, I am a gentle woman - but it would be wrong to mistake that for soft. I am a horsewoman and anyone who spends their lives with horses in a world that is mostly made up of men should know that it breeds toughness even beneath a tender exterior. I intend to win at all costs. John will not be disgraced. Anyone who crosses me will be sorry. And I will use my feminine wiles where it suits me, all the while, of course,  remaining sweet and fair minded to all. But just watch your step, Devil Blades...I am in a mood to take no prisoners...

TERRY

I don't know how I manage it. Who talked me into this game? All right, I can skate. I can turn my hand to most physical pursuits, but ice hockey? Last time I played must have been all of fifteen years ago when I was up in Canada on some NATO nonsense - but I was about twenty-five then. I should have cried off this time and said I had a job on - but O'Leary was in like Flynn. And there was no way I was letting him get the better of me. Even if he is a far more proficient hockey player than I am. I can still lean on the bastard- he's not in my weight class.

And then Gaia got wind of it. There are two kinds of women in this place. Some of them are all sensitive and scared their blokes will cop an injury. Others love nothing better than seeing men hack bits out of each other in the name of sport. My sweet Gaia belongs in that latter class. She couldn't wait to see me suited up and in the danger zone. I have to say, though, it worked on her libido like a charm. There is always a compensation when a man puts his life on the line. The sex before and after is bloody great.

The day of the match dawned bright and clear - and cold enough to freeze a polar bear's bollocks. I took one look out of the window and climbed back into bed again. Gaia kicked me out and told me to act like a man. I took a very warm shower and tried to commit to memory what heat felt like.

A couple of hours later at the pond, in a bloody log cabin trying to get some warmth out of the heater, we sat around in various stages of undress and listened while Biebe gave us his team talk. You could tell the Aussies a mile off (present company excepted, of course, as I am a hard man and would never admit to any inconvenience, like mere minus temperatures). The Cobbers stripped off and then jumped into their kits as fast as they could, whinging. The rest were much more leisurely: Biebe standing half dressed, Maximus in even less clothing polished his stick threateningly (ladies, do not even try to turn that one), Bud lounging in a straining jockstrap that looked as if it would snap any minute (Jesus Christ, imagine the potential velocity of that as a missile?) and Cort looking moodily magnificent, bare-chested and solemn. And then the Antipodean wimps, hanging round the boiler throwing hot potatoes at each other: Curry, Maloney, Ryan, O'Brien and Driscoll.

John was deep into his tactical summary, the culmination of the battle plan he had been drawing up for days. He had a series of hot potatoes around the floor and was describing various set play and feints he wanted us to attempt. Everyone appeared suitably knowledgeable and was nodding wisely, all except for Cort who appeared a little distracted and was staring blankly ahead of him. Curry noticed this and nudged O'Gallagher who tried to blow him a kiss - but even that didn't wake him up. Biebe followed their gaze, stopped talking and waited, potato in hand.

But still Cort dreamed on.

"You gonna be asking me what potato am I next, pal? Can you stay in the room, lover boy?" Biebe retorted dryly.

The team burst into various signs of amusement and Cort zoned back in, clearly ruffled and annoyed with himself for drifting off. "I'm the goal. I think even I can work out where I am...don't worry about me. What's wrong with you lot? You just keep scoring at the other end and I'll do my job here..."

Just then the door opened and in waltzed Clarity and Tulip. Talk about jumping to attention. John grabbed them both and turned their backs, gruffly telling the men to cover up. Clarity and Tulip complained mightily, said they wanted to be treated as just one of the boys; John retaliated by making them both change in the john.  Tulip handed John a plate of biscuits and said they were just a little taster from the girls. That was sweet of them. But I think they must have been stale or something - or maybe they got snowed on the way over? We ate them anyway. Need all the sugar we can get today.

I wasn't entirely happy at the girls being there actually. This game was going to get pretty nasty and I did not want women caught in the middle of that.

You know the score? Every time we have a friendly, it turns into World War III. All the current rivalries and old vendettas will be brought out to play again. Boots will be put in. Eyes will be gouged. Ears will be bitten. Punches will be thrown. Groins will be fair game. God, I love being a man...

UMA

Who coined the phrase Whinging Poms? If ever a race whinged, it's not us (stiff upper lipped Brits?) but those bloody Aussies. The past week has been one long extended whinge. Morning noon and night there have been pockets of pathetic Aussies complaining about the cold, sore ankles and others assorted hockey-related ailments. If they gave gold medals for whinging - Oz would be hands on favourites in my book.

I wasn't even spared in private. Andy took so many knocks in practice sessions that he would lie in a hot bath and feel sorry for himself, loudly. Don't men have any shame? I must have rubbed various liniments on every part of his body late into the night, accompanied by a litany of woes and complaints. To make it worse, only one part of his body appeared to be spared any action as the big day drew close. Andy was not draining his reserves in sexual warm ups. His love muscle was having the week off.

He takes training seriously, apparently. I couldn't shake him at all - surely Zack was only joking when he insisted on no sex until after the game? Andy is so gullible. And so flaming stubborn, too.

On the morning of the match I went into the kitchen early only to find Jeff, Egan, Hando and Jack C. sitting round the kitchen table laughing helplessly while Andy was doing something to a pile of biscuits laid out on a plate. He had this concoction in a cup and was dribbling it on. I wondered what he was up to.

"What you doing? Cooking lessons?" I grinned as I poured out a cup of tea for myself. "Icing biscuits? Bit girlie even for you, Jeff, isn't it?"

Five grown men proceeded to giggle even more. Jeff even slipped off his chair and rolled over on the floor.

"Did I say something funny?" I remarked, helping myself to one of the biscuits. Andy grabbed my hand and stopped me.

"NO! They're not for eating..."

"Why? What are you lot up to?" I knew then this was some scam they were dreaming up for later.

"Soggy Saos," Andy replied and then began his hysterical laughter again.

"Pardon?" I asked.

Jack Corbett sobered up. "Saos are biccies. Traditional Aussie biscuits made by Arnotts. We thought it would be nice to leave some in the dressing room of the opposition...as a gesture of goodwill, ya know?"

"...Not much chance Biebe will resist a biscuit going free...." Egan added.

"I still think one of the others will spot it as soon as someone says 'These biscuits are soggy'..." Jeff observed.

"Too fucking right..." Hando added, "But not before he's got his mouth on it..." Again they all collapsed helplessly. Jeff was still on the floor now acting out gagging reflexes.

"What have you done to those biscuits?" I demanded suspiciously. "What is a soggy Sao anyway?"

"It's a game. Played by Aussie men." Egan said with a smirk.

"Why do I think there's more to it than that?" I continued - but with an idea what was coming - literally as well as metaphorically.

Andy was bursting to tell me. He had that face on him. "It's a game blokes play in the locker room or wherever. You all stand in a circle, jack off together and splatter on a biscuit...last one to come has to bloody well eat it...It's sort of an Aussie equivalent of the snow bank in your jock strap..." He looked really pleased with himself when he had finished his revelation as if he had explained some really pithy problem.

I stared at them. "You have all wanked into that cup? You filthy animals..." I gasped, realising that the sticky white concoction did look remarkably like come.

Andy giggled. "You mental? Wank on a match day?"

Now I would have been rather more relieved had he said "Wank on a biscuit? What do you take us for? Or even Wank in public before a group of my peers?" but that did not appear to be the objection for any of them. Obviously if it hadn't been a match day there would have been no problem about this completely foul and disgusting practice that only the sick brain of a puerile Aussie could possibly invent. "So what did you use for your spunk substitute, Einstein?"

"Egg white, half whisked with a touch of salt...for added piquancy...Jeff here was the official taster..." And replied smugly.

"...Andy...that was a bit off...present company and all..." Jeff had the decency to blush as he interrupted.

I looked from one to the other before sticking my forefinger in and taking a lick of the white cream.

"Second opinion, boys. You need a real expert...Me..." I laughed. Andy groaned and the others laughed crudely. "Mmmm..." I licked my lips... "Not bad...you just need a couple of short and curlies to catch on the back of the throat...that would really make it authentic..."

They all groaned this time. "Uma...you are so disgusting..."

"I'm disgusting? I didn't come up with that foul game, boys. But I sure as hell want in now...God, is there any way you can work one of those on Terry? I would wet my knickers to catch him with that one. 'Terry...here's one Andy 'iced' earlier...'" That little quip caused them all to bang on the table in glee at the prospect.

"No chance..." Jack added thoughtfully. " He'll have done it himself in the barracks loads of times...you'll never get that past him - but I bet he wouldn't tell Maximus or White...You know how he loves to get one on them...."

"Maximus!!!!" I screamed, jumping up and down at the prospect. Could you imagine that!

Meanwhile Jeff was almost comatose on the floor on one of his flights of fancy."...I once had a dental appointment and there was this pubic hair stuck between my teeth..."Jeff suddenly started up..."It was so bloody embarrassing...I just couldn't get it out..."

We all looked at him lying back on the floor. "Are you on something, Mitchell?" Hando shouted down. Jeff just smiled sweetly. I wonder if he's been hitting the waccy baccy again? He certainly looked as if he was feeling no pain.

"I reckon Maximus wouldn't chance anything we sent in. Remember- he wouldn't eat that stew, would he?" Jack Corbett observed. "Bet they did worse than a soggy Sao in the Roman army..." They all nodded.

"They probably dispensed with the biccie," Jeff remarked. "Just tied the victim up and had at him..."

I kicked him. "Stop having your lurid gladiator fantasies...you watch too much gay porn...it's addling your brains...."

"Don't pretend you don't have 'A Night in the Gladiator barracks' fantasies as well, Uma...you liar..." he giggled. I pulled my tongue out at him.

"Curry and Ryan wouldn't say anything either. You know how Lachlan would love that one. O'Brien's so dense he wouldn't notice and I'm not sure Driscoll would know. They have Arnott's in his day?" Egan asked. They shrugged, the history of Arnott's not being one of our specialities.

"Your best bet is to get one of the women to offer the plate. Hey, Egan, Tulip's on their side, isn't she? Tell her Scarlet baked them for the boys..."

"Fuckin' beaut, Ums...you're evil..." I consider that quite a compliment coming from Hando actually.

"You need a woman's intuition on this sort of thing, lads. After all, we've had thousands of years of secretly getting you lot behind your backs...by the way, has it crossed your minds what they are planning for you, darlings? Watch your backs, fellas...it's a jungle out there..."

Just as I was leaving the room, a thought occurred to me. Turning back I addressed them again. "The one who comes last loses? Only men could be so stupid...bet the poor bastard is a winner with the ladies though..." I grinned and skipped off.

God, I love men...

HEATHER

Ahhh... hockey.  What can I say?  When I heard about the game, I do admit, the first thing that came to mind was: Dino.  On.  Ice.  Although that studly image then morphed into my own twisted little version of Ice Capades: Burritos On Ice.  Can't you just see it?  No?  Must just be me then....

So, back to hockey.  Now, I know what you're thinking with me being from Alaska and all.  Big John must have thought the same thing because when he started talking about skating and I admitted that I was a truly hopeless cause; couldn't skate a lick... well, you should have seen the look on his face.  I mean, it's like an Aussie saying they don't drink beer or Uma saying she doesn't like shoes or something. 

I mean it's not as if I never tried skating.  Where I grew up, pond hockey was what everyone did at recess.  Only when my mom took me to get my skates, they were all out of white, so I had to get black.  I tried to explain that only boys wore black... but we came home with black ones anyway.  And she made me promise to wear four pairs of socks... so you can picture that disaster in the making, I'm sure!  A first grader with feet so swollen from all the pairs of extra socks that they didn't even fit all the way into the BLACK skates.... and then there were the laces.  Most six year olds can't even tie a shoe, much less lace up a skate.

I'm sure you can imagine how that went as well.  It took me half of recess just to get them on.... then I wobbled out through the snow, skated about three feet with all the boys and girls laughing because my skates weren't white... and then I crash landed in an ignoble heap.

Is it any wonder I prefer sledding over skating?  Of course, the idea of black skates on a Red Haired Devil is another matter entirely....  And to use a rather apt expression, I know he'd die before he passed up a chance to skate rings around Terry.  Not to mention his love of a good fight.  He is the original 'sneaky fucker'.  I even promised to kiss every bruise he got....  (What? Me?  An enabler?  Bite your tongue!)

Now, I know he liked that kissing idea... but I think what he really liked was when I admitted to preferring cheering in the stands to taking the ice.  Hey, at least it saved him the trouble of refusing to let me play!  For someone so cultured and smooth, he sure has a few deeply ingrained chauvinistic tendencies.  Heh.  Isn't it great?  Don't you just love a man who acts like a man?  

ZACK

It had been a long week. I am not a man known for my patience and what little reserves I possess were stretched to their limits of endurance by my chosen men. Okay- so I chose them. Like there was a pool of excellence to pick from? There were also those who doubted my competence side by side with the good sheriff and his vast knowledge of the game added to his ability to manipulate the situation to his own advantage whilst making me look like a regular motherfucker every time I took a man who had working limbs. What is it with some guys, huh? How the fuck they make everything they do look saintly?

But, I know a thing or two and I think I got the best of the bunch. Just look at that list. Analyse it. Run it through a bureau personality assessment and team-profiling program and you just might be pleasantly surprised.

Biebe- okay. He can play. He's experienced and knows the game. But he's not getting any younger and just one guy. He'll burn himself in the first fifteen trying to take advantage of his initial burst of energy - but we can wear him down. I've got a back line who are young and dirty - and as long as they keep hacking him down, we'll have him on his knees before long.

Maximus, Thorne and White. Everyone's shitting themselves about that trio. Everyone except me. Think about it. 

Maximus can't skate for fuck - he can unleash hell for all I fucking care but on his butt? That famous fleet of foot ain't gonna do him shit on the ice; he'll jump up and fall back down again. Sure he can shoot - I wouldn't like to be in Nash's place if the general took a crack at goal - but he's got a temper. I've got Hando chopping him down every time he goes near. Maxie will lose his temper and try and rip the Skin's head off or decapitate him with his stick. Bingo! Off he goes. Come on, man...how long's he gonna hold it together?

Thorne's bound to be good at it - fucker's good at everything - but he's slow and too heavy. Plus O'Leary will target him constantly and the two will cancel each other out. I still give Dolly the edge...he's a sneaky fuck and will take Thorne, run him ragged and then nutmeg him. Jesus...I'd pay a week's wages to see him put one through Thorne's legs. I'm not the only one. Everyone's got money on that - even his own team mates.

White? I think he knows the game better than he lets on and that he can skate - I'm not falling for this - "I'm from LA, you think I like cold nuts?" Even with the bum knee, he's a danger and he'll be like a brick wall to pass. I've got Pog on him. The little fairy is a mean sonofabitch - he can skate and move and he likes it dirty. He's also determined to get his mitts on White's tackle...he says he wants evidence about this third ball. And he has let White know his intention. You think White is gonna skate easy knowing that? A distraction worthy of Marie's bosom to the mild mannered Officer White. Might have to sacrifice O'Gallagher but - what the hell? Collateral damage, hey? This is war.

Everyone is saying -'Cort over Nash as a goalie. Come on....'? Now, on paper it looks like a given that Quickdraw will have everything in sight. But...he's lovesick and finding it hard to keep his mind on anything but his fucking bleeding heart this week. He is also not a man who likes the cold much - and standing around in goal will give him time to cool down and zone out...whereas Nash is a fucking good athlete, can concentrate so hard that he is able to forgo food, warmth, sexual urges and any desire to please the crowd. I think he could be my secret weapon. On the other hand, he might be in Lala land and we are fucked.

Then they have their fair share of clowns to make up for any pretence of advantage they might claim - Curry, Maturin and O'Brien. The doctor will probably break his neck. Curry will laugh himself into a hernia. O'Brien will lope around at the sidelines smoking roll ups. I know we've got a few dead weights ourselves but we're not in their class. The only one I'm really worried about is Steve and he can skate, knows the game and could be pretty useful if he stopped over-analysing the fact that neither captain actually wanted him.

Then there are the three remaining Aussies whom I have some respect for on the ice. Maloney's gutsy and has taken it seriously. Ryan's a good little athlete and he so wants to impress that chick of his that he's one of the hard men. Driscoll's one mean fucker when he wants to be. Don't be fooled by his nature boy exterior. He's tough and has remarkable balance and physical skills. Plus Wildie's a Canuck. She's got to have given him a good grounding in the game.

I'm a little worried about Clarity and Tulip to be honest. Mostly, because I think the one weakness my guys have is that they won't let any harm come to a woman. Okay...apart from Hando...but can you see Aubrey, Andy, Trask, Mitchell, Baskin, Corbett bowling either of those honeys off their feet and simply rolling over them? But, I tell you, those girls are not gonna have any such sensibilities and are gonna run rings around those boys. I've seen Clarity in that race against Biebe and Tulip is never going to let Egan think she's just a little woman...man, they are gonna be hard work...

But...we got Karen and Esme. Karen is like a human dynamo. She frightens the shit out of me when her blood's up. Any man who crosses her is gonna be minced. And Wigand's got a hard on for her bigger than a fucking hockey stick. That has got to be in our favour - even if he is a stand up guy and won't overtly let her presence affect his decisions .

Esme...well, let's just say I know a few things about Miss Esmerelda Abbott that will remain between me and her. But what I do know tells me that she is one very resourceful lady, not easily intimidated, and has a rather untapped well of hidden talents (some rather more well tapped than others...) There is also the suspicion I have that Esmerelda would love nothing better than proving a few points to several gentleman of our acquaintance. You think she wouldn't want to put one past the padre? I also rather think she'd like to shove the stick up Thorne's backside if she had her way - but a simple pass that beats his ass might suffice (and let me tell you, this girl can feint...) She's also been pretty supportive during training, taking a few guys for extra classes (Esme - you're quite a girl. I'm sure there was no ulterior motive at all...) and those boys won't let anyone touch their Es....So with Karen and Esme as our unexpectedly lovely front line, I have no qualms about playing women. But I am just a bit concerned if there will be anything left of the Predators by the end of the Game.

Oh yeah, I am so worried about that.

And then there is Chili...ho, ho, ho...now there's a man who hates to lose. Not sure he would even recognise failure if it sat up and bit him in the ass.

Bring it on, Biebe...

"OK, you miserable pussies...let's go through this one more time..."

JEFFREY

The hockey game.  Suppose I should capitalize, underline and bold it.  That's how out of proportion this whole thing was built up.  What started off as a friendly little game of pond hockey between friends turned into the Olympics at least in Biebe's mind or Karen's complete with intense rivalry.

Let me just start my recap of the game by saying it was quite the education, to say the least-I'm talking here about my fiery rose.

She's a feisty little thing let me tell you.  Competitive.  Wayne Gretsky, Shaq and Michael Jordan got nothing on her.

The minute Biebe planted the seeds for this game among the pub crawlers, she wanted in.  Since she's Canadian and hockey's her country's national sport, it seemed only natural.

Zack and John drew their teams.  Then the proverbial shit hit the fan.

In my view, the teams were clearly stacked in Biebe's favor.  Karen obviously concurred.  Come on...Max, John, Terry and Bud on the same side?  So I understood where she was coming from when she started complaining.

Then, she starts teasing me about being the ref.  

Her eyes lit up full with mischief.  "You're the ref?  Really?"  

I could practically see the wheels turning in her head.

"And can the ref be bribed?"

Truthfully, she could bribe the pants off me any other day about almost any other thing. But here's the deal.  My integrity and rep was on the line here.  Hockey's a team sport and has rules and regulations that refs must uphold; otherwise it turns into a free-for-all.

So no, I wasn't going to throw the game by making judgment calls that would be advantageous to either side.  If I was quite honest with myself, I didn't want the guys to razz me and say I was influenced by a dame.  I could just hear White.  "Wigand, Christ he's so pussy-whipped by Karen, we might just as well throw in the towel now."

I immensely revelled though in her trying to change my mind about my "high-handed principles" as she liked to call them.  Did I lead her on?  Make her think I was going to give in to her not so subtle demands?  Of course, I'm only human.  Why should I stop a good thing?  She's got the most amazing pout.  Her full lips pursed forward kept me with a permanent hard-on.

However, I was concerned for her and all the ladies playing that they would get injured.  I knew the boys would be skating on eggshells around them and concentrating all their energies on who they thought were the real threats, the men. 

But accidents happen in spite of the best of intentions.  Frankly, I was with Aubrey here.  I don't think the women should have been allowed to play.  Call me chauvinistic, sexist and old-fashioned.  I would have no compunctions if the women were playing women, but women playing against men twice their size, 'fraid not.

How could I tell an independent woman I had just met that I didn't want her to play?  Can you imagine the grief I would get not to mention that I could risk alienating our fresh new relationship?  So I kept my feelings to myself and hoped that she really knew her stuff.

She did though.  Before the game, I saw her skating and practicing.  She was good and knew her hockey.

Fast forward to the day of the game.  Karen's looking so incredibly cute in her Pub Devils Jersey which is big on her small frame.  I can't help but leer at her like a dirty old man.

Noticing, she smiles and bats those baby blues at me.  White would be right.  I am completely whipped.

KAREN

I think everybody hated my guts during the hockey game.  See, I can be incredibly combative and tenacious when I want to be.

Don't even know why it was so important to me.  It was just a hockey game for heaven's sake.   But I guess I'm a little like Bud, when I've got my 'blood up', watch out.

I'm not going to get into the nitty gritty of the game just a few highlights.

First there was Zack's little team pep talk which I think I interrupted about fifteen times to put my own two cents in.

Finally in exasperation he turned on me, swiftly and fiercely, the way only Zack can.

"Who's fucking running this team?  Who are you anyway?  You just blow in and try to take over?  Not on my watch baby!  Are you sure you're even a girl?  Got pretty big cojones on you for one, I'd say."

Needless to say, he put me in my place.  Not for long though.

As Zack ran through strategies, all I heard was "O'Leary...Aubrey...Hando...Palmer, you do this, you do that."

Esme just looked at me and mouthed, "Are we invisible?"

"Looks like," I tossed back at her.

The game starts and the action heavily centered on Grant, Biebe, White, Thorne, O'Leary, Palmer.  The Aussies, with the exception of Terry who was doing the Alpha Male thing like it was going out of style, on both sides tried their level best but let's face it; they don't come from a world of snow and ice.

The words "wuss" and "wimp" came to my mind as I saw Colin, Mitchell, Lach, Dom and East shivering in the cold.  At least Egan, Hando, Andy and Jack C. acted like it didn't affect them.

Then fucking Aubrey started pussyfooting around Clarity who is a flying whiz on skates, let me tell you.  She'd got the puck and was dodging and darting circles around Arthur and Steve.  Jack suddenly appeared in front of Clarity, the only thing between her and Nash, our intrepid goalie.  Did he take charge, confront and masterfully steal the puck away?

Hell no!  Fuck, he might as well have been escorting her to high tea.  She faked to the left, he danced over to the left while she really escaped right, passed it to Stephen who rammed it down Nash's throat and scored.

Loud cheers from the Predators and their women do their little song and dance.

I was seething.  Skating over to Jack, I can't help but snarl out, "Nice move Jack.  Why don't you ask her to fucking waltz next time?"

He gave me this tight-lipped, oh so very British look of distaste as if he'd eaten something very sour.  Shit, how does Angel put with this Neanderthal?  He wouldn't even let her play...

JEFFREY

The game got pretty vigorous and most of the players were doing their best.  Some were very zealous and others were basically going through the paces - but you know the energy was out there and the atmosphere was crackling.

Karen and Jack had a mild blow-up over Stephen's goal and Clarity's assist.  I think I might have to intervene.  Christ, it looks like Zack is going to strangle her.

I could hear White laughing his ass off and shouting out, "Wigand, shut your woman up before this turns into a bloodbath."

They worked it out.

It continued on and then it happened.  Dom has the puck.  Karen intercepted and took it away.  Tulip and Clarity went after her. 

Nearing Cort, she passed it to Dino and somehow in the tangle of players surrounding the net, she smashed right into O'Brien.  She fell down hard.

I stopped the action.  Everyone gathers around.  Karen was helped back to her feet.

"I'm all right," she insisted.

She was limping and there was a cut on her forehead.

Immediately, I wanted to get her out of the game.

Karen threw me the most wicked look as if to say 'Don't you dare...!'

I'll admit it.  I backed down. But I couldn't help but follow her with my eyes.  She was hurting.  How the hell do I get her out?

Then an argument broke out between me, Zack and Chili over one of my calls.  It got quite heated.  Voices were loudly being raised.  People were taking sides.  I was getting angry.  Grant was right in my face.

Favoring her right knee, Karen started in on me backing up Grant and Palmer.

I could only see her injury but I used the excuse of her verbal abuse to throw my weight around.

"You arguing with the ref?  You're asking for a penalty?"

Zack tried to rein her in.  

She was not buying it.  "What - are you blind?  Glasses not the right prescription?  Your call sucks.  Fuck have we got a seeing-eye dog in the crowd?" She shouted at me.

That did it.

"You're out, honey!  Five minutes in the box."

"You can't do that!" she screamed at me.

"The hell I can't.  I just did.  You want to stay in this game, little girl, get off the ice now or you'll be permanently benched!"  I was shouting now too.

Chili hustled her off while she looked daggers at me.

KAREN

Pissed?  Way beyond that.  I was livid.

Skating off the ice, I was met by East who was waiting to get back on.  He tried to swipe at my head with a cloth as the cut had started to bleed again.

"Shove off," I growled at him.

My ferocity sent him packing. Hando noticed it and called over: "Scared of her, Driscoll? That's what you get from riding bare-backed, mate. No balls..."

East glowered at Hando. There's gonna be trouble there later...

Meanwhile I sat there and glowered at everyone else.  No one better come near me....

Uma threaded her way over to me.  She ignored my glare, sat down beside me, grabbed my chin, tilting my head towards her and began to bandage the scrape.

"That was rude and uncalled for what you did to East.  He was trying to help.  You're bleeding.  We've got to make sure it's stopped.  Stop acting like a brat...."

Okay, I've been told and there's nothing like being told off by Uma.  She might be a little bitty thing but she's got a temper and is not one to be pushed around.

While she patched me up, I suddenly began to feel like the biggest jerk.

"I'm sorry, Uma," I eked out in a small voice.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to.  Save it for East.  It's just a hockey game.  Jeffrey booted you out because not only did you challenge his authority but he knows you need medical attention.  So suck it up."

She stood up to go and then leaned over whispering: "When you get back out watch out for my Andy. And knee Thorne in the groin...for those two services, I will forgive you anything...." She winked and scurried off.

So I did. But not before I sheepishly said sorry to East who graciously accepted. But I doubt that there were many conciliatory words between Hando and East who were both ramping up the bad feeling off the ball. I heard something about: "You kissed and made up with the scary girl?" from Hando and a rather unexpected string of profanity from East. He's going to blow any minute. But that was none of my business. I had some mending to do with Jeffrey....

JEFFREY

The game was over.  Everyone was clapping the winners' backs and consoling the runners-up.  Back to the pub for warm toddies and some female sympathy with one possible exception.

I made my way over to her.  Karen was alone on the bench, untying her skates.

She had been in the wrong so I wasn't going to back down from my position.  I just wanted to make sure she was really okay, and make sure that we were still okay.

Lifting her head, she smiled at me, a genuinely warm one.  "Hey, ref, can I buy you a drink?"

Nodding, I offered my hand to lift her up.  "Not mad at me?"

"Well, let's see, a game of hockey versus Jeffrey Wigand."   She looked like she was calculating her answer.  "Tough call- but Jeffrey Wigand would win hands down every time."

My fiery rose, so appropriate a pet name for her.

LACHLAN

It's a pretty dumb way to spend the winter in my opinion. I mean, I'm not averse to contact sports, being a pretty fair rugby player myself - but who in their right minds chooses to freeze their tits off on a frozen pond? I suppose they can't be blamed for not being born in God's own state, a.k.a. Queensland, but I suspect that over exposure to cold and not growing up on Castelmaine beers probably does affect a man's brain ultimately.

Nevertheless I did my duty. Made up the numbers and kept out of trouble - caused plenty mind you, but they were all so busy making fun of my skating that the fact that I brought down anyone who came near me was excused as incompetent blade work.

I never said I didn't want to play dirty now, did I?

As most of the others got so caught up in the action, I have designated myself as official post match reviewer. 

You get quite a good view on it when you're sitting on your arse watching the proceedings from close quarters...

Let's have a few highlights: Biebe got an early injury. It was the usual one we all seem to suffer from - do Crowe men have glass eyebrows? Yes, a cut above his right eye, ladies. Minimum pain, maximum oohing and aahing from the ladies. Clarity immediately forgot where she was and kissed it better. That got a lot of jeers from the other side. Biebe did not appreciate the cries of: "Poor baby...does it hurt? Let me just kiss it better..." accompanied by smacking noises and animal grunts. Men are so puerile at times. Women, however, are completely mental...

Well, it appears that Biebe had been cut by some glancing blow from O'Leary. Palmer and O'Leary naturally found it funny. Terry naturally didn't. He gave a nod to the general who circled malevolently. You can imagine the results. A coordinated play, first Terry upended Dino...and then Max took down Chili... There was some choice language too. Went something like:

"Hey, hermano, you little red motherfuck....."

"Palmer, I hear you have some erectile problems? Need a hand? Oh, I forgot...that's what you always use..."

At that point, I took the opportunity to crop Trask's legs from under him. Bloody Wigand was watching the A-team. Reckon that will do me nicely today. Tulip almost wet her knickers and forgot which side she was on for as moment. Or will she give me a kiss if I hurt myself as well?

We all got up and reformed. Ref got us going again. Bud gave Andy the elbow and he fell hard. Marie the pacifist jumped around in delight. Then she realised it was her pal Andy and she took it back. He's gonna be one to watch is Compton. He's got that saintly look. I'm not bloody fooled. Uma has to have indoctrinated him by now. There was a quick take and just before the first period was over Ryan fired in an unexpected shot off an O'Gallagher assist.  That was sweet. First blood to Oz. Lots of smug looks. Never count us out... Girls go nuts. Forget which side they are on because they all think Johnny is cute. Meanwhile the ladies on the ice take the opportunity to get a bit of revenge in. Karen and Esme start leaning on Clarity and Tulip, taunting them about paying for what happened to O'Leary and Palmer. They come straight at me and Maloney - well, what could we do? You can't bring women down. While we were thinking about it, Esme ran it to Corbett who slammed it at Grant and it was in. Fuck... Excuse me. Dearie me. 1-1.

Team talk. We got it from Biebe. My ears were blue. He nearly singed my eyebrows off. Called me a fucking little soft kangaroo-fucking pussy... And then he was even ruder to Dominic.  Next we got Jack up acting all master and commander and giving us this "Are we men or mice routine?" I think the cry for King George fell on deaf ears but he does string a speech together nicely. Made me think of Shakespeare and Henry Vth. Actually it does make you walk taller when you hear a rousing speech, you know? Finally Maximus stood up, looked around with that glare of his and simply said: "Hell...unleashed. Now..."

Boy, did that get us going. Beat that Grant...

Second period? Highlights? Best bit was when Aubrey and Palmer body checked Thorne as he, Max and O'Brien were moving in on net. Nash was looking sharp. Thorne went arse over tit, Gaia had some sort of hysterical fit. I shouted for Maturin to pick up the stray puck. Maturin did and began to head the wrong way.  "STEPHEN!!! TO THE NET!! NOT OURS!! THEIRS!!" He got the message and turned and so I shouted to Nashie: "Oi...is that Charles, JF?" Nashie just stood there like he'd seen a ghost. Nice one. They should credit me that goal. 2-1.

Mate, then Aubrey made a real tit of himself. Clarity skated up and he almost escorted her to the goal and helped her in with it. Grant was screaming "Confront, you fuck brain...!"

She scored. Karen screamed:  "Why don't you fucking ask her to waltz next time?" 3-1 and they'll lose a man if she doesn't calm down. Well, a woman. You know what I mean...

So there we were 3-1 up and I hadn't hardly even touched the flaming puck. Didn't give a bugger either as long as we win...

There was hardly time to get back to our positions before something flared up between White and O'Leary. It began as a bit of pushing but they both ignited. Must have been an exchange of pleasantries, I'm sure.

Wigand piled into the middle - which was pretty brave of him. His glasses were knocked off. He looked like he was losing it but managed to pry the two apart although the looks they were giving each other and the threatening signs did not bode well. The whistle went and Biebe jumped on the puck. He bore down on John Nash at goal and flicked a sweet shot into the outside corner of the net right. He raised his stick over his head in victory. That was a class act. Everyone stopped to applaud that goal. Clarity couldn't restrain herself. Biebe got kissed again. Might have kissed him myself if I could have got my butt off the ice.

Trask took that moment to get a bit of revenge of his own... Cassie had distracted me shouting something  I couldn't quite hear as I staggered to my feet and I didn't notice him skating up behind. I was listening to Wigand telling Clarity that lovemaking on the ice was not allowed in the rules.

Bam. I hit the ice, cracked my head and jarred my spine. Trask also whispered as he whizzed past:  "Enjoy the biscuit, Curry?" making a rather rude gesture with his right hand.

No worries. You think I fell for the Soggy Saos? I might be a flaming useless skater but I'm not dense. Rather enjoyed the sight of the others tucking into them though. Must have been what made me burst into giggles as I lay prostrate there on the ice. I think Cass thought I was concussed. I milked it as long as I was able letting Bou and Cassie feel me up. Nothing wrong with having women drool all over you, is there? I'm only human.

Well, the score was at 4-1 then and we were looking pretty pleased with ourselves. There wasn't long left of that period. The Predators were all skating about with that victory swagger and the "I'm so tough, I shit glass' expression on their faces. Zack was pissed. Then the unexpected happened. Steve saw an opener, skimmed it right through Ryan's legs to Baskin who nudged it on to Grant. He didn't hang about. Whack! Cort lunged but Grant put it top shelf; it was too quick even for Cort.  4-2.

Within a moment they had made it 4-3 from a nifty piece of deception by Mitchell and a sweet little dink from Esme. She blew Cort a kiss. He grinned and bowed. Mitchell danced about and jumped on O'Gallagher who seemed to find Mitchell's move a turn on. They both went down and there was some rather inelegant groping. O'Gallagher said he was just going for Mitchell's bollocks. Wigand said that is what he had been afraid of. Jeff just lay there with that grin on his face and made crude suggestions. Grant told him to can it before he showed him what he was going to do with his balls. Mitchell simply laughed some more and told him he'd been waiting for him all his life.

Grant looked as if he might knock him out if he wasn't careful. It was probably best that the buzzer called us all off the ice just then. Hauling Mitchell up, he kicked him off the ice. East and Hando were also still at it. Wigand called over for them to cool it. Hando sneered and tripped Driscoll up. He fell in front of the stands and Hando ripped down his pants. "How do you like it bare-assed in the snow?" Hando grinned as he skated past.

I've never seen Driscoll move so fast. He was up, had yanked up his pants and then grabbed Hando before you could take a breath. Grant and Biebe dragged them apart and remonstrated with Wigand to ignore the incident. But Driscoll was still mad. He might like riding butt naked in the wild but he was angry that Hando had embarrassed him in front of the women. I'd watch this one. These two are going to go off before this is over. Stake a claim on it.

Final period. Karen went into overdrive. Took exception to a miss by her team mates. Turned it into nervous energy and scored. 4-4. We were beginning to look ragged. The Blades were beginning to swagger. Biebe was mad as a cut snake. He said the goal was illegal. Grant bounded up and argued the toss. Wigand ended up warning the two of them but allowed the goal. Palmer gave Thorne the bird, Thorne raised his stick at Palmer. He'll be off if he isn't careful. Ann wound it up more. Karen got herself binned. The place was in uproar. Driscoll rammed his stick into Hando's kidneys and no one saw it - well, I did, but I was with Driscoll, naturally. Hando went down hard. Bloody good job Scarlet had left with Marie and Gaia by then to start the food. Scarlet would have taken East's head off for that. Reckon Hando will too when he gets his wind back.

4-4. Best way for this to end, I think.

Fortunately Biebe didn't. With seconds on the clock, he drove a blinding crack from the left wing and it hit the top corner. GOALLLLL! Buzzer sounded. 5-4... Predators have it. What a result!

Bloody good game if you ask me. Honours even. Bit of blood spilled. No real harm done. Off we staggered to the locker rooms with the usual shouting and laughing. Outside the doors it went down. Hando ripped off his helmet and turned on East who was also bareheaded by then, talking to O'Brien as he went.

And Hando headbanged him. Crack! Jesus, everyone winced. East was poleaxed, blood pouring from his nose. Wigand grabbed Hando who raised his stick at him. Bad move.

That's when the men all intervened. There was a quick discussion. Grant and Biebe said it was game over. Time for a group decision.  Justice was summary. Hands were shown.

Ice hill. In his jock. Hando laughed and shrugged it off. We decided to keep this one quiet. The girls would get upset. Plan was we send them all off to the pub and double back for the punishment. Steve had his camera primed.

This was worth the price of the ticket....

UMA

Personally I would have preferred a peeing contest. Ice hockey is too complicated for me. I sort of knew what was going on but spent most of the time asking people what was that and why did he blow his whistle? Best bit was when Andy thumped Terry. He did it really cleverly so it looked like his hand just slipped. Terry rode the blow and gave him a look but, fair play, he held his hands up and decided he probably deserved it.

Which he did.

He's such a decent bloke, isn't he?

I think Andy may have broken a bone in his hand though. But he said it was worth it. It was while I had been strapping it up in the back of the pub that Terry told me about what Hando had done and what the men had decided. And I suddenly decided I liked the snow after all.

So we ladies all piled out of the pub and hared back down to the pond. Just in time. Hando skated out of the locker room and I have to say he took everyone by surprise. He was completely naked. I mean absolutely naked. Boy, has he got balls.

Boy, has he got balls! And even frozen his dick is ENORMOUS. And he flaunted it. "Look at me. I'm so cold, my dick's shrunk. Only seven inches..." Well, the women hollered and the men rolled their eyes and Hando just went for it. Picked up speed as he raced across the ice, screamed this ear-splitting roar and hit that ice bank full on. Everyone held their breath. You had to give it to Hando. Took his punishment like a man. Laughed as he got up. The men raised a cheer. The women whistled and catcalled. Hando bowed, gave us a wiggle and then shouted: "Someone get me a fucking hot water bottle before my dick drops off." He was given a glass of brandy. He stuck his dick in it. Then he drank the brandy.

He is just so...male...what a perfect ending to a perfect day....

And I haven't even mentioned the gorgeous food Gaia had arranged.

Or the fight Gaia and I almost had. Or rather would have had if Terry hadn't restrained me. And I would so like to know what Andy and Gaia said in the Powder room. But I'll never know, will I?

Maybe for the best. You know I would have knocked her cold if she'd pushed me any further - and then I would have had to do the ice hill.

And I'm not as tough as Hando. Where ice is concerned I'm with Lachlan.

Who wants to freeze their tits off?

Did I just hear Terry say: "So that's where they went, is it?"

Anyone got a hockey stick handy?