XI

Music. Frédérique looked around and found the CD player on the wall across the living room. She approached the shelves to look at Richie’s CD collection and smirked when she found that it was sorted out: the vinyls on one side and the CD’s on the other.  Then he must have…here it is. She found the vinyl record player and immediately concentrated on the vynil section, knowing exactly what she was looking for. She cheered inside her head when she found it. Yes. She took the record out, put it on the player and carefully placed the needle on top.

Richie was busy exploring his refrigerator and taking things out, trying to see what to make of what he had, when he heard the music coming from the record player.

Are you going to Scarborough Fair
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine

He looked up and saw Frédérique walking towards the kitchen, mouthing the words with a smile on her face. Her lips were swollen and bright read and he curved the corner of his lips upwards acknowledging that it was his own work.

“Awww….I love this song”, Frédérique said as she sat on one of the stools across the kitchen counter from Richie, stretching her arms in front of her and then flexing them, the elbows on the counter and both her hands supporting her head. She crossed her legs.

“Thanks for diggin’ that one out, it’s been a while since I last listened to it”, Richie said appreciatively, “red or white?”, he placed an empty wine glass in front of her.

“White” she replied without hesitation.

 “The girl in the pictures…- Frédérique tipped her head towards the wall behind the record player - she’s your…?”. Richie opened a bottle of wine.

“Daughter, yeah, she’s…I couldn’t love her more”. Richie put his hand on his chest over his heart and finished poured the wine in her glass, then in his. Frédérique opened her mouth to speak.

“Her mother and I share custody … - Richie spoke instead - she’s now in California”. He was cutting different kinds of cheese in cubes, a small mold of camembert had already been cut into small triangles. He lay them next to some slices of prosciutto on a dark wooden platter.

“So you travel there often”, she added, before putting her nose inside the wine glass and taking a deep breath, keeping her eyes locked on his.

“Well, I actually own a house in California and spend more time there than back here. I like being… ya know…Mr. mom.”

Frédérique didn’t answer and Richie then spoke to snap her out of her hung-up. She looked pensative.

“And you? Got any family here?”

She recovered: “Nuh uh: they’re back in France”. Richie encouraged her to add more information:

“Brothers..sisters…?”

“Yes, three younger brothers”. Frédérique answered when she finished taking a sip of her wine and savouring it, putting her hair behind her ears. Richie finished putting some olives and salted peanuts in separate little glass bowls. 

She was staring at the tattoo on his right arm “Who dares wins”. Interesting. But before she could say anything, the water inside the pan on the stove started boiling and Richie swiftly tended to it, threwing in some fresh pasta. There was also another little pan with a lid on over the smaller stove. After he was finished, Richie put the platter and the little bowls on the counter.

“Thanks” she said, and immediately grabbed a triangle of cheese, Richie noticed how she licked the white layer that covered it with the tip of her tongue before putting it inside her mouth. He salivated as he stared.

“Gawwd this is soo good”, Frédérique said, and offered him one. He had now both hands occupied with plates and table napkins so she put it into his mouth herself. He felt a tickle on his lips when her fingers briefly touched them.

He crooked a smile at her and after circling the counter, he stopped and spoke secretively next to Frédérique’s ear : “If you keep that up we’re gonna have to put dinner on stand by - and sucked on her year lobe - but I need to be fed, so behave”.

“I could try” Frédérique said with a smirk and he kissed her on the cheek, then moved on to the dining table, but she stopped him.

“Don’t bother, let’s just eat here”, and patted on the kitchen counter.

“Alright…fine by me”, he shrugged.

She started singing along to another song that was playing while he lay a couple of napkins on the counter and then placed the plates on them. She noticed there was only one fork. Richie turned around and fished the pasta with a pair of spaghetti tongs, put the pasta in a bowl, splayed the content of the small pan over it and mixed them together. He turned to put the bowl on the counter and saw Frédérique leaning over to read the label in the wine bottle. Her shirt could hardly contain one of her breasts from popping out. He felt a sizzle in his groin. Well, that’s a quick recovery.

“Are you trying to spoil me, Richie?”, Frédérique said cheerfully when she saw the steaming bowl of pasta in front of her – “I LOVE champignons, too bad it’s hard to find the Parisenne kind here". She reached for the fork.

“No no no no” Richie stopped her: “Allow me…I don’t think you should be allowed to handle those things…” he circled the counter and sat on the stool next to her.

Frédérique was going to respond but couldn’t help but notice how his abs rippled when he sat down on the stool. And his bare feet…his long, thin, flat toes. She only raised her glance when Richie said:

“Here”, and carried the fork to her mouth, using his other hand to prevent any drop of the sauce from falling to the floor.

He put the spaghetti into her mouth and slowly slipped the empty fork out from in between her lips, her eyes locked on his. He felt the throbbing again. He checked his overall state: Yup, definitely aroused.

Then he ate something himself while she ate an olive and waited for him to finish chewing, then fed him a slice of prosciutto that she had folded with her fingers. Richie took one bite, then another, and after the second one, before she could pull away her hand, he captured her fingers with his mouth. She slowly slid them out, enjoying the cloud of desire evidenced in his eyes.

“You need to eat”, she chuckled. “Besides, this is all too good to waste. I’m impressed at your cooking skills Mr. Sambora, I thought you rockers were a bunch of spoiled brats that didn’t even know how to warm their milk”.

Richie spit out the wine he was drinking: “Excuse me?”, he arched his eyebrows to make her notice the undertone in what she had said.

They simultaneously burst out laughing, Frédérique covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

…

They continued feeding each other and sipping their wine while Richie told her about how he came from a Polish-Italian household, how his mother had taught him how to cook, etc. She almost barely uttered a word, but nodded from time to time to indicate she was following him. He spoke for over half an hour, only stopping to take a bite here and there, quickly resuming his monologue.

When they were finally satisfied, Richie started putting the empty dishes in the sink, but noticed that Frédérique had straightened her back and was now massaging her neck again. He abandoned his task and turned the kitchen lights off.

“Let me get that”. Richie stood behind Frédérique while she remained seated. With one hand he removed her hair from her back to rest over her shoulder.

He started kneading the muscles of her upper back, and as she felt her muscles relax she closed her eyes and let her head hang over her chest. She moaned softly. “Mmm you’re good at this”.

After a couple of minutes Richie stopped, and his hands traveled slowly from under Frédérique’s arms to cup her breasts. She lifted her face to capture his mouth in a kiss. Afterwards, she raised her arm to circle his neck while his hands tugged at the two buttons of her shirt to let themselves in, each thumb tending to each of her nipples.

They were oblivious to the fact that the last tack of the album had finished.

She felt his erection pulsing on the small of her back and instinctively separated her knees, while her toes rested on the stool’s footrests.

Richie broke the kiss and moved on to her neck.  Frédérique placed her hands on his over her breasts, and when his hands started traveling down over the curves of her waist,  she kept them there to continue her stimulation. Richie's thumbs hooked the waist of her underwear and started to pull it down. Frédérique raised herself on her toes just enough to allow him to ease the undergarment over her hips. Then he bent over, to slide the boyshorts past her knees and let them fall to her heels.

She kicked them off while his hand traveled back up to her crotch, the other one keeping a tight grip of her hip. Frédérique lowered her hands and placed each on Richie’s hands.  His lips only stopped kissing and biting her neck to hiss when he felt her wetness and easily found her warm, hard clit.

She showed him with her own fingers how she wanted him to touch her and he stopped when he felt her muscles tightening, only to release his hand from hers and slide one long, thin finger inside her. Frédérique suddenly arched her back and threw her head back, all her muscles tensed. Richie could feel her inner muscles tighten around his finger.

She was still riding the last waves of her orgasm when he scooped her up in his arms and took her to the bedroom.

A few minutes later, in the living room, a needle was still scratching a revolving vinyl record when a long, throaty growl could be heard coming down the corridor from the bedroom.