I just can't stop myself from writing LwD stuff! It's SUCH a problem. Ugh.

Anyway, here's my latest installment.

I know I told you guys I was writing something called I Will Find A Way, but…that's on hiatus for now.

Please R&R and also, check out my profile for other LwD fics!

THANK YOU!

Oh, and by the way, the other chapters probably won't be as long as this one...I just wanted to get to a good cliffhanger ;)

"Yo, Derek!"

Derek spun as one of his teammates for the Toronto Maple Leafs called his name. They had just landed in New York for a two week and eight games run between the Rangers and Islanders.

"So, I was thinkin'…" His teammate, Mark Harris started after he had slung an arm around his shoulders.

Derek smirked, suppressing a groan, "Oh, that's why I smelled smoke."

Mark glared, "Very funny, but anyway, my cousin used to live here and he said that there's this very upscale restaurant over on tenth avenue – which isn't far from our hotel – that's supposed to be way better than Hooters, if you know what I mean." Mark finished by wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

Derek kept the smirk that was plastered on his face, "You see, I'd love to, but my step-mom will castrate me if I don't find my step-sister immediately."

And, he wasn't lying. They had all talked to Casey within the last few months. It had been about three years now. She had moved to New York, and Derek had been at Queens for a year – ultimately gaining a deal with the Leafs and joining them after that year. When they all talked to Casey, though, they could tell she was lying about enjoying it. So, naturally, when Nora found out that Derek and the Maple Leafs were flying to New York for two weeks worth of games, she asked Derek to look into why Casey was lying.

In all honesty, Derek was curious to find out himself. She had been more than excited to come to New York to start her dancing career; and her tone on the calls recently was a little less than unpleasant. Nora hadn't needed to threaten him with castration, but she thought she did; so, he just went with it.

After all, if he had voiced his slight worry, Nora would've gone off the deep end. He had always been good at reading Casey – take those times with Truman, Max, and Vicki as just a few examples. But, Nora didn't need to worry any more than she already was, so he nodded vigorously – pretending to be scared by the prospect of castration by his step-mom – and was here on a mission, besides to win hockey games.

"Dude, your step-sister can wait! We have a restaurant full of scantily clad ladies practically calling our names!"

Derek rolled his eyes. Mark was even worse than Truman, and Derek didn't particularly like hanging out with him, but then Mark told him that more of their teammates were coming with; so, Derek figured it wouldn't be so bad.

Besides, if it really wasn't his style, he could just fake a phone call from Nora and make his way out of there.

Mark was right, Derek supposed, Casey could wait.

"How many more are coming with us?"

"Well, there's about five of us going in a rental…"

"Yeah, that's not happening, I'll rent my own car." Derek said.

Mark shrugged, "Suit yourself, but that really puts a damper on getting drunk."

"Mark, I'm the captain – that really puts a damper on getting drunk."

Mark nodded, smirking, "Yeah, I don't know whether to call you a lucky or stupid bastard."

Derek smirked and shrugged too, "Both, I guess."

"Well, see ya there, D!" and with that Mark stumbled off to go talk to the rest of the guys Derek supposed were coming tonight.

He decided to skip telling the family that he had landed, because he knew that they'd be right up on his ass to go check on Casey; so, alone, he went to board the shuttle bus that was taking them to their hotel room.

Once everyone had boarded the bus, the coach stood up as they were driving. "Alright, guys, listen closely."

Everyone removed listening devices and looked up at him.

"Look, we're all grown ass men, okay? I don't give a damn what y'all do; as long as you make it to practices and games on time and completely sober. But, no getting in trouble with the law or we just might leave you here, be safe, and all that shit. We clear?"

All the men either nodded, or mumbled acceptance and Coach Myers nodded and sat back down in his seat.

About two hours later, due to traffic, they had finally made it to their hotel and registered.

Derek walked up to his room, and when he opened the door, he found nothing less than what he usually got – a luxury suite.

He smirked. He really should talk to them about giving him special treatment just because he was the captain. Of course, he was a "cool" captain. He always switched rooms with his teammates if they wanted to impress a woman and he wasn't having one over. And, none of the other guys complained about him.

Besides, he was drafted by the Leafs after a year with Queens. And, only after another year, he had worked up to captain. None of the other guys were complaining about that either because Derek was good. More than good, actually, but he didn't like to stroke his own ego anymore.

This suite was no exception. It was almost like an apartment with a small kitchen to the right, a "living room" straight ahead, and, to the right again was a platform where the king sized bed and bathroom were located.

Derek smirked as he dropped his duffel bag and suitcase on the couch. There was a flat screen television in the living room in front of the couch and another mounted to the wall to the right of the bed. He went up to check that out because he thought that didn't make sense. Who wants to break their neck watching television while in bed? Upon further inspection; however, he realized that the television – with the pressing of certain buttons on the remote – came out from the wall and was at the perfect angle to watch.

His eyes lit up, this room was the perfect bachelor's pad. How the hell did they expect him to focus on hockey with a room like this?

Because he was Derek Venturi, that's how.

He put the remote back on his bed and lugged his stuff onto the platform, he then got out a green button-down, black jeans, and his black leather jacket for tonight.

After a couple hours of watching mindless television, he realized that it was around seven at night, and heard Mark knock on his door, shouting, "Come on, D! Let's go!"

He shut the television off, grabbed the little packet with both keycards to his room in it, and his wallet and headed out the door.

Mark had Damien, Matt, and Colin with him.

Derek was glad he was taking his own car.

They were talking up a storm, with Derek lagging behind.

For whatever reason, he couldn't get his parents' voices out of his head that he needed to go find Casey.

"D, you in there?" he suddenly heard someone say.

He looked up from previously staring at the floor, "What?"

The guys laughed, "What are you so deep in thought about? Your damn step-sister again?"

Derek shrugged, "No, just thinking about the games."

"Look, dude, tonight is our night. No more thinking, okay?" Damien said.

Derek almost snorted. A few years ago, everyone was trying to tell him to think; and now they were telling him to stop.

He shrugged, "Whatever."

"Okay, if you're going to be a punk ass, you're not coming."

Derek threw his hands up, "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Promise." He even crossed his heart and pouted for effect.

They all shared a laugh at that.

"Nice one, dude."

"So, what's this place like?" Derek asked.

"Oh, man!" Mark started up again, "I've heard it's fucking fantastic. My cousin said the waitresses' uniform skirts are so tight and short that you can see everything, and you're allowed to have them sit on your lap! Then, he said that the black blouses they wear are more like corsets…and he's pretty sure the manager orders a size smaller than what they actually wear because everything is practically spilling out!"

Derek's eyebrows rose, Mark sounded like a fifteen-year-old version of himself. "Sounds great." He managed to say – with very little excitement.

Was Derek a player? He supposed you could say that. He hadn't had a steady girlfriend in a while, and…the girls he did have around he couldn't manage to get himself to sleep with…or continue dating for very long. They were all missing something…well, that or he was sort of in a slump…though he would never admit either aloud.

Another reason why he didn't want to call home tonight is the 'rents would be asking about a steady girlfriend…like they always did – especially his dad, and Derek wasn't sure how many more questions like that he could handle without exploding and saying something he would regret for a long, long time.

They stopped at the car rental garage that was linked to the hotel and Derek took out his I.D. and credit card.

"What kind of car would you like?" the guy behind the desk grumbled.

Derek shrugged, "Anything that's not an old-lady mobile."

He smirked, "Alright, since you're not demanding, you can have this one."

Derek took the set of keys and noticed the symbol for Chevrolet on it.

"Cool, thanks."

"No problem."

And, when he walked into the garage, he realized that he had been given the keys to a newer, sleek black Chevrolet Camaro.

"Nice." He said under his breath. He had no idea what his friends had gotten, but he definitely wasn't about to have them all crowd into this with him.

They had disappeared a little while ago anyway, and he was enjoying the peace and quiet.

Luckily, Mark had given him the detailed address for the place; so Derek plugged it in to the cars built-in GPS system and took off.

Casey absolutely hated this job.

She hated lying to her family, too, but that wasn't her problem at the moment.

Right now, she was sitting on some guy's lap and he was feeling her up – his lips way too close to her neck.

She jammed her eyes closed a couple times, but he had enjoyed it; and so had his friends that were also at the table.

Casey hadn't even been more humiliated by the fall on her second day at Derek's high school.

Suddenly, his hands started wandering further up her thigh than they were supposed to and she pushed his hand off, and stood abruptly.

She cleared her throat, "Alright, so, what can I get you guys to drink tonight?"

The man whose lap she was just on smirked, "Well, you can start by getting back on my lap. I paid for fifteen minutes, and you only gave me ten."

Casey refrained from shooting a horrified expression as she looked at the little kitchen timer on the table and realized that he was right. It had only been ten minutes.

"Stop staring at me and take your seat back, now."

She especially hated customers like this.

"Casey, is something wrong?" her boss suddenly came over.

Casey nodded slightly, "Yeah…his hand went further up than it was supposed to; so I got off." She said quietly.

"No, sir, it didn't." the man lied.

Casey wanted to cry. It always went like this.

Her boss sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, "Casey, you need to stop this if you want to keep working here. This is the second time in two days!"

"But, sir…"

"No 'buts,' get back on the paying customer's lap, now."

Casey blinked a few times, before sitting back on her customer's lap.

Honestly, if she had wanted this type of humiliation, she would be out on the street wearing this same outfit.

The skirt was way too short – and, to make matters worse, they were forced to wear thongs.

Casey was aware that people were seeing more of her now, than any of her boyfriends had – including Jesse, and she lived with him. Well, except for when he saw her coming home in this outfit.

Speaking of that devil, he was the whole reason she was in this mess anyway; but, she didn't have anywhere else to go.

She couldn't go home, it was too damn embarrassing.

And, not only was this the only job she could find, this was the best paying job. They paid her twenty dollars an hour, plus tips – and she was one of the more popular waitresses; so her boss always scheduled her many and long shifts.

She couldn't remember the last time she had a descent night's sleep.

It didn't help that most of her co-workers hated her too. She was the most popular because she wasn't a blonde…and, apparently ninety-five percent of her customers had called her a prude and found it entertaining to have her sit on their laps instead of someone more…erm, willing.

And all just because she didn't want to be touched like that by anyone but her husband…

What was the world coming to?

When she had gotten back on his lap, one hand went back to its former position on her thigh, and his other started playing in her hair – which was down and had been flipped a few times. Casey had to admit, she did like the look of that – it wasn't flat like it usually was.

But he was pulling on it, and it was slightly painful.

And then his tongue flicked out and touched her neck.

Casey was beyond disgusted, but fortunately for her, that's when the timer went off.

She moved to get up, but he placed the hand that was on her thigh to her stomach and whispered in her ear, "Give me a couple more minutes since you tried to end early, babe; or I'll tell your boss you were bad."

Casey gulped, and furiously blinked fresh tears back from her eyes as she had no choice but to nod.

"Good girl." The man said, and pulled on her hair again, giving him better access to her neck.

Casey felt his tongue moving quicker, as though it was poking her neck.

When Casey dared a glance at the table, the other two men that were in the booth across from them had money out on the table – meaning her boss would be over shortly and they were next.

Casey really wanted to cry now.

Derek locked the now parked Camaro and waited on the sidewalk for the rest of his teammates to pull up.

They finally showed up about five minutes later.

"Where the hell did you go, man? You like, disappeared." Mark said.

Derek smirked, and shrugged, "What'd y'all get to drive?"

"Well, we asked for a hot-rod and you know what that asshole gave us?" Mark complained, exasperated.

Derek had an amused expression playing on his face, "What?"

"A Honda! A fucking Honda!"

Derek laughed, "Wow. Sucks for you."

"What'd you get?" Mark asked, his eyes narrowed.

Derek held up the keys, "A Camaro."

Mark's mouth dropped, as he quickly turned around, "I call shotgun!"

"I don't think so." Derek said, shaking his head. "I enjoyed the peaceful and quiet ride over here, and I intend to enjoy that on the way back – especially if you're drunk."

"Okay, Venturi, but if there are any girls…"

"Then I suggest you walk." Derek said. There was no way he was giving one of these morons the key to a car that was rented in his name.

Were they insane?

"You're cruel, dude."

"No, I value my license and record."

Mark rolled his eyes and muttered something about a grandma.

"What was that?" Derek asked.

"Nothing." He muttered then as they walked inside this restaurant that Derek now noticed was called Suitors.

Derek smirked at the irony.

They walked into the place. It was pretty dark, but Mark was right about the waitresses' outfits.

There were a bunch of booths on the outer walls, and an oval bar in the middle.

Derek looked around again and noticed that most of the waitress were blonde, with…um, yeah, rather large chests and rather small blouses – or corsets because those shirts definitely did not look like blouses.

He saw a diversity of other waitresses - most of them lapping up the attention, too.

And then he spotted a beautiful brunette…on some guy's lap, looking like she was about to cry as he basically molested her.

And all hell broke loose as he realized who exactly that brunette was.

"What the fuck?! Casey?!" he shouted before he could stop himself.

Okay, so…I know this plot is kind of mediocre, but I couldn't stop myself. I just kept writing and writing…so yeah.

Let me know if you want me to continue! :)