Sid stared at the screen, unsure of how to proceed. He sighed deeply as he uncurled his legs from underneath him, while precariously balancing his laptop on his massive thighs. He looked nervously around his surroundings acting as if the completely humiliating online search he was about to make was taking place in a packed coffee shop where coffee drinkers would look over the shoulders of strangers, overcome by the curiosity of their seat mates' lives. But Sidney Crosby was not in a busy Starbucks, he was luckily in the comfort of his penthouse condo on the Allegheny in downtown Pittsburgh. The lights of the city laid before him, twinkling like a massively gaudy Christmas display that were not uncommon on the streets of Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia during the holiday season. Light displays that were vital for illumination on the makeshift hockey rinks he and his friends created on their cul-de-sac during those especially cold and snowy days in December, and pretty much all the days from October to April up in the region of the Maritimes. No, those days while fun to reminisce were long gone and now Sid was living his dream and feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Especially the last 6 weeks. The comeback kid they had called him. And he was. He overcame a concussion, returned just before the playoffs, feeling strong, confident and ready to bring back the Stanley cup to the people of Pittsburgh. But things didn't work out that way. The playoffs were summed up in one word. Disaster. The team as a whole did not play well, but Sid especially was inconsistent and then when he was consistent...he was consistently awful. For those 9 days he had to look at all those reporters, analysts and cameras and spout off buzz words like bad bounces, playing a full game and believing that losing 8-3 was a "close game." it was bullshit, all of it. But what else he could do? He was the captain and it was his job to make all those fans believe that the team wouldn't give up. Ever. And then it was over. Disappointed in the locker room. Disappointment all over the city. Disappointment in his father's voice when he called to go over the game the net day. But that was behind him. Summer came and Sid was busy with hockey clinics with area kids, extended trips to Cole harbor to his lake house where he could relax and spend some much needed time on the Canadian waters, and then there was all the sponsor nonsense.

Sidney had really dug himself into a hole with some of his playoff behavior that had Gatorade, Reebok and even Tim fucking Horton's getting nervous that the golden boy of hockey was becoming a little tarnished. He spent his summer months doing damage control and reassuring the sponsors that the Sidney Crosby going onto the ice in October was going to be controlled, hungry and determined to excel like he never had before. He could do it, he had to. But then how did he end up in the position he was in now? Six weeks into the season and he had 10 points, 3 assists and no goals on his stat sheet. The team was under .500 for the first time since he had joined the roster. The organization had worked their asses off to keep the team together in the off season. Everyone had come back and the Pittsburgh penguins were trying to recreate the season before, only this time they had their captain back and they were going to dominate. Hell even Lovejoy had been resigned, because everyone believed is the team worked, they just needed Sidney to take the reins and make it happen.

But he hadn't.

The last 6 weeks had been miserable. Nothing was working. The bounces were really going bad and Sid felt off. Really off. And he didn't know how to get it back. Until Jordan Staal had pulled him aside after today's loss to the blue jackets and diagnosed what was wrong with number 87. Slump. A really bad slump that was not uncommon in the sports world. Everyone got them. Basketball players that throw nothing but bricks at the free throw line when they have a 97 shooting percentage, baseball players going hitless for up to 20 odd games. Sidney was in a slump and Staalsy knew exactly what could break it. A slump buster. Sidney, while somewhat naive when he came to the NHL, had been around the block a few times in the past seven years, so he had heard of slump busters but he had never had to worry about one and had absolutely no idea how to do it if and when the time came. Sidney acted like he knew exactly what he needed to do when Staal had confronted him, but he did catch up with Dupuis in the pens parking lot to get confirmation.

"Une chienne is what you need. The uglier they are the better chance you have of breaking the slump. I had one in '02, right before I met Carole-Lyn, that not only gave me 35 goal season but I believe led me to meeting Carole-Lyn...I got how, how you say...my groove back?" Sid tried to keep a straight face while Pascal explained the specifics of a slump buster but inside a lead weight was forming in his stomach. A slump buster. Find the ugliest girl you can get, take her home or back to her place, or even do the deed in the back of your car. Just get them somewhere, fuck them like they had never been fucked before (or dreamt they ever could) and then never see them again.

Boom, slump over.

Sidney Crosby was no prude. At 25 he had his share of one night stands, short term girlfriends, one long term girl who quietly broke his heart the summer of 2010. Since then he had a pretty impressive stream of sex considering he was the so called best hockey player in the world. Most were acquaintances from the endless people he encountered. Daughters, family friends, nieces of people he knew back home and within the organization. Girls from around Pittsburgh. Whether they had been from various charity events or puck bunnies from some of the clubs the team went to after games to let off steam. The thing was that every girl he had ever been with, he knew somehow. While he wasn't particularly close with some of his bed partners, he at least knew some things about them and usually saw them again in the circles he frequented. For the slump buster to work he had to find a stranger, someone he would never have to see again. It put him so out of his comfort level, the anxiety built just thinking about it. He just wasn't that type of guy, but he was going to have to be. Anything to get his game back. After much thought he realized he couldn't just walk into a bar, find an ugly girl and take her. It just wouldn't work logistically. He needed to know that the girl would be discreet. That there would be no way this story would get out. Not only would it be humiliating, it would ruin his squeaky clean reputation with the league and his sponsors, a reputation that was already on shaky ground.

So Sidney spent the evening thinking, "where do the unattractive people go when they need to get laid?" And then he knew the best place to find anonymous sex. The Internet. And so here he was sitting on his overstuffed leather couch in his modern but comfortable penthouse on his computer trying to find a girl. The idea was laughable if he didn't feel so mortified and a little bad about what he was about to do. Sid wasn't a vain person. He needed a lot of help when he entered the league. He was told early on that he needed to have a look if he was going to be the NHL poster boy. He was preened and molded into someone that he still felt was close to the gawky kid from Cole Harbour, just a lot more polished. He knew he was a good looking guy, but could he pull this off? So without much more delay he typed away at his computer keyboard and before he knew it, he had clicked on casual encounters and stared blankly at the results page.

Caroline Reid had been home for only 25 minutes when she turned on her iPad and navigated her way to the seedy but necessary section of craigslist where people find casual sex partners. She had thought about this before but never had the nerve or felt desperate enough to try this route of copulating. The weekend had been the final straw. Her girlfriends and she had gone up to the lake for her old roommate, Sara's bachelorette party and the whole weekend had been one giant gabfest on the sex lives of the girls. When they lost their virginity, how many partners they had, craziest places they had done it, it went on forever.

Caroline dreaded these conversations, because they led to the inevitable...her virginity. Usually her closest friends knew to steer clear of bringing Caroline into the conversation, but Sara's cousins who Caroline had only met once had point blank asked her about her experience and while Caroline awkwardly sputtered and wracked her brain for something to say, realization dawned on the cousins' faces and Caroline's face quickly flushed.

"Whaaaaaaaaat?" the two girls exclaimed. Caroline stumbled over an explanation for his virtue but the overly sexualized and straight up obnoxious cousins couldn't stop asking questions, making comments and Caroline was miserable for the rest of the trip. Sara tried her best to help. But this group of girls loved their margaritas and gossip and Caroline had become the easy target. So here she was ready to put the humiliation behind her and get this pesky problem out of her life once and for all. Being a virgin at 26 wasn't completely unheard of, but it was definitely awkward for whenever the girl talk started at happy hours, in ladies bathrooms at the bars and as proven this weekend, anytime girls and booze get together.

Up until a few years ago Caroline hadn't even worried about it too much. A super geek in high school she cared more about grades and getting out her god forsaken mining town in Ohio. She never had a date in high school but did share a completely awkward kiss with Brandon Tunnick, president of the world of warcraft club at school behind the gym. College is when Caroline felt like she truly grew into her skin. Her unruly brown curls grew longer and less out of control, she got contacts and the 7 years of braces paid off as she had nice straight white teeth. She leaned up a bit, but always seemed to have soft spots in her belly and butt that seemed to never go away, despite her new found love for running and yoga.

In college, Caroline went on one date. Gavin in her sophomore Spanish class asked her out one day after class. He was tall, lean and blond. Pointy features but a great smile. He seemed out of her league, but he was so nice and charming that Caroline dismissed any uncertainty. They had gone to a movie and then back to Gavin's dorm for some beers that Gavin had from his older brother's recent visit. After a few drinks Gavin began to get very touchy. Not that Caroline minded. He was very cute and seemed so confident. The touching became kissing, the kissing soon led to Caroline without a shirt and bra. Gavin seemed to know how to touch her in all the right spots. Between the beer and the affections, Caroline's mind became fuzzy with pleasure. She didn't even think twice when Gavin began to undo her jeans. But when his fingers thrust into her without any warning, Caroline froze. She tried to slow him down, but the fuzzy feeling made her reflexes slow and the pain became overwhelming. With one hand in her pants and the other in his own, Gavin was moving at a pace that was becoming pretty painful. After what seemed like forever, he stopped leaving her more in pain than pleasured thrust his feeble erection in her face. At this point the date had become miserable for Caroline. She pushed at Gavin, grabbed her shirt and threw it on with amazing speed. She was out of his room pretty quickly and dashed across campus feeling violated and nauseas.

It wasn't until Monday before Spanish class that she realized she had left her bra at Gavin's. When she entered the classroom, there he was twirling the pink bra between his fingers and telling the entire class about how he "got laid." Caroline had been humiliated and dropped Spanish that afternoon. She never saw Gavin again, but she felt the damage had been done. For years after she never even looked at guys, let alone went on dates or pursued getting physical with anyone. Upon graduation, Caroline got a job as a second grade teacher at an inner city elementary school in Pittsburgh and started her life there. In the last few years she went on a few dates, but nothing ever led past 2 or 3 dates and sex never came up.

So here she was. Ready to just go for it. She would find a warm body online, do it and be done with it. Even if she never had sex again, she could say she wasn't a virgin. That wouldn't make her a complete spinster, would it? Now she just had to find the right person. She had a few criteria she wanted to stick with. She wanted him to be around her age, she just couldn't stomach the idea of sleeping with someone much older than she. He would have to be discreet and he would have to know that it was just a onetime thing. No booty calls or pity sex. A part of her hoped he would be handsome and gentle. The starry eyed teenager in her still thought of true love and making the first time is special, but in times like these she would have to make some sacrifices to get what she wanted. She had to put to rest any silly notions that the man she gave herself to would make some declaration of love and be her one and only soul mate. The idea was laughable and completely unrealistic.

Right?

She started scanning the listing of casual encounters and began to click away. Most of the entries were enough to stop her in her tracks. They were creepy at best and borderline psychotic at worst. But then she saw one that seemed not so bad. It read: One time thing. m4w, 22-28, must be discreet. Caroline clicked and read the rest of the entry. Clean, SWM, 25 seeks SWF for one evening of unattached sex. Looks not important. No kink. No repeat meetings.

Wow, thought Caroline. This was exactly what she needed. It was a pretty straight forward and albeit dry ad, but it was clear and to the point. The age level worked for her and she hoped the businesslike tone of the entry, matched the man's demeanor.

Businesslike.

Get to the point and get it done. No repeats. She was slightly concerned about the looks part. She was no beauty, she knew that. But over the years she had learned how to work with what she had. She was clean. Her fingernails were short but well manicured. Her skin clear, her hair manageable. Her eyes and her hips a little wide, but not ridiculous. She was in a word, average. She like the idea of no kink. In her mind she wasn't a prude. With the right person she knew she could be adventurous. But for a job like this, the more basic the better. Yes, this seemed like the perfect situation. And with a deep breath and a shaky hand she clicked reply on the page