XIX

Jon and his eldest son were retreiving videogame CDs, potato chips bowls and joystick cables among other things from the floor when Richie and Frédérique entered the living room, as they walked they spoke secretively to each other and smiled. Richie’s had one arm around Frédérique’s shoulder and in turn, she had one around his waist.

“We’re sayin’ our goodbyes now”, Richie said to the pair and stopped.

“Oh, come on!”, Jon replied, “you’re leaving?”, and abandoned his task to walk over to them, he was barefoot and already in a pair of gray sweatpants and a thin white T shirt that looked a size too small for his frame. He stopped a few steps in front of them and put his hands on his waist.

“No, actually, if you don’t mind – Richie asked, but already knew the answer -  we’re gonna stay here, it’s too late to drive to the city now…but we’re leavin’ first thing in the morning”, then put his free hand in his front pocket. He looked down at Frédérique and added: “She’s gotta be in the city by ten so we won’t be here when you wake up”. He kissed Frédérique’s temple and released her shoulder.

“Alright, then”, said Jon, and the two men joined for a hug.

Then Jon turned to Frédérique: “I’m pleased to meet you, honey, Rich will let you know were everything is upstairs”.

“Yes, nice to meet you, too Jon, thank you for the lovely evening...- Frédérique spoke almost as a courtesy - ...and the shelter”, and stretched her neck for a kiss, but was surprised when Jon pulled her for a hug, and she unconsciously reacted by landing her hands fanned over Jon’s ribs. She could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his T shirt. And he smelled. So good.

As soon as Richie and Frédérique motioned for the staircase, Jon spoke again: “Oh, and thanks for the wine by the way, it’s excellent. Rich told you I like white wine?”. Frédérique shook her head and looked down, speaking in a demure manner: “No, no, I didn’t know, I only drink white wine, that’s all. I can’t stand the red”.

“Oh, I see, I see”, then Jon turned to finish the task he had interrupted, and finished:  “now you two, shoo, I gotta get back to my night gig”.

Richie was tugging Frédérique by her hand halfway up the stairs when they heard Jon’s voice again and they stopped, then ducked down to look at him: He was still bending over some empty glasses on the floor, but spoke up to make sure he was heard. Jon’s tone was stern, but Richie recognized his intentions:

“Um…son? Remind uncle Richie about the rules under this roof, he seems to have forgotten about them”. His son looked up at Richie and chuckled:

“Yeah: no chicks in the bedroom”

Richie replied carelessly: “Don’t worry Dad, I’ll just tuck her in and come back to curl around Copper”, then walked up a couple more steps and stopped again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot that’s your spot, Jon”. Richie didn’t wait for Jon’s response and continued on his way up.

…

Upstairs, Frédérique took a quick look along the corridor. Most of the many doors were closed except for the ones on each end: in one of them she could identify a desk and a shelf with books, in the other, a little bright green table, pencils and papers on top and matching tiny little chairs.

Richie stood at his bedroom door and opened it for her: “Welcome to the Richie Sambora room. En…trez?” He grinned and looked questioningly at Frédérique to check if his French was correct. She giggled and responded as she entered, bowing her head:  “Merci beaucup”.

Richie took his boots off and headed for the bathroom before he pressed a kiss on Frédérique’s lips, while she stood by the vanity with her butt against the edge of the marble surface on top of it, her hands on each side of her hips and her fingers curled around the edge of the marble. She found some evidence of Richie’s property laying around the room: an electric guitar, a double neck acoustic guitar that she remembered having seen in one of his pictures, some CDs scattered around behind her on the vanity, and a few pictures of him with the band and other people, one of them with Keith Urban. Frédérique smirked, and was still staring at the picture when Richie came out.

“Oh, feel free to nose around, I got nothin’ to hide”, he finally said, then dimmed the lights and stood in front of Frédérique, circling her waist with his hands. She had already peeled off her jacket and taken off her flat shoes.

They kissed softly and lingering at first. At this point Frédérique already knew what Richie’s kisses could do to her, and it was only a matter of moments before she was aroused, and he was pressing his hips against her.

“What did you say you were gonna do to me tonight?”, Richie asked mockingly but seductively as he pulled from one end of Frédérique’s brown scarf, making it slip from around her neck.

“I said I wanted to fuck you”, she spoke against his lips. Richie again felt the rush run through his body and captured her mouth for a deep kiss, stopping only to pull her T shirt up above her head, then resumed the kiss and took her bra off before moving on to open her jean’s fly, pulling it down anxiously along with her underwear.

In a matter of seconds Frédérique was naked and hissed when Richie lifted her up and sat her on top of the cold marble surface of the vanity. She tried to pull his T shirt off, but he was already kissing his way down to her stomach, hooking her legs above his shoulder and pressing his tongue against her clit. Frédérique’s only reaction was to arch her back, throw her head back and grab on to the edges of the marble. Then she surrendered to him.

Frédérique was still trying to process that she had had a hard and sudden orgasm when she felt Richie entering her, filling her. She lifted her head back up, captured his mouth with hers and made another attempt at taking off his shirt, but was hit with another orgasm and could tell he was having one too, since she could feel his warm seed spilling inside her, all his muscles tighten and his fingers sink deep in the flesh of her thighs.

They waited for a few seconds. Frédérique could feel Richie’s legs trembling and tried to hold him up by pressing him harder against her, while he put his hands on the marble surface on each side of Frédérique’s hips, extending his arms to support himself. He placed his sweaty forehead on Frédérique’s shoulder and waited to catch his breath, then gently put her back down from the vanity. Only then she succeded in taking off his T shirt, then took his jeans off and they both crawled into bed.

…

Frédérique heard Richie’s breathing become heavier, leaving out a painfully low moan every time he breathed out. He was asleep. Frédérique, however, couldn’t even manage to close her eyes.  She waited, and she could feel the mechanisms inside her head start to activate. No. She didn’t want to think. Not now. She had to keep her mind entertained with something else, and desperately scanned her mind to find something that could help her not think. She moved her eyes around the room but found nothing, she didn’t want to wake Richie up by playing music or stroking the guitars. There were absolutely no books around. She needed to find something. Anything.

Then Frédérique remembered the desk at the end of the corridor, and the books in the shelf. She picked up her jeans from the floor and put on Richie’s shirt, then opened the door just enough to stick her head out: it was dark and silent. Frédérique felt self-conscious about walking around someone else’s houses, specially this one: Jon seemed to be extremely protective of his property, which included his friends. As confident as she was, she had found herself intimidated by Jon, by his sense of authority.

She looked to her right and saw the little green chairs. That must be a playroom. Yes, there she could find pencil and paper to draw something, or even a children’s book. Whatever.

Frédérique slowly closed the door and tiptoed to the end of the corridor.