XXV

The band went straight from the stage to the showers, congratulating each other for the incredible show they had put on and commenting on each other’s performances. They were exhausted but euphoric: it had been a memorable night for sure. A few songs after Runaway Jon had found out about the sound problem and had killed at least 4 or 5 people in his mind, but by now he was too high to give anybody shit about it so he just enjoyed the moment.

Richie was anxious to meet Frédérique and share this moment with her. That, would make everything perfect, so he showered and just put on a blue robe – French blue, he giggled – and placed the hood over his damp hair. He stormed out of the showers and a few steps from him, in front of his dressing room door, saw Nikki with her arms crossed over her chest, a menacing look on her face. In front of the door was also one of the crew members who was in charge of security backstage.

“What’s wrong, Nikki?”, Richie asked kindly.

“He won’t let me in”, she answered on the verge of a tantrum.

But the man didn’t utter a word, and opened the door just enough to give room for Richie to walk through it. Frowning at the intriguing situation, Richie stretched his neck first and looked into the room. He felt Nikki pushing from behind to make her way into the room, but he stopped her.

“Not now Nikki, see you later?”, said Richie and waited for Nikki’s protest: he knew it was coming.

“But-“

“Go, Nikki”

She recognized the voice tone: she wasn’t going to succeed, so she let out a sharp sigh and walked down the corridor back to the backstage room.

Richie carefully slipped into the space between the door and the jamb and closed the door behind him before activating the lock. Then stood with his back against the door, crossed his legs one on top of the other by the ankles and hooked his thumbs on the robe’s belt.

“I think you forgot to take this one to the stage” said Frédérique, as she lay on her right side, naked on the red velvet sofa of Richie’s dressing room, her head supported by her right arm and her left hand resting on top of her along her left side. A leopard print hat leant against her body, covering her crotch.

Richie stood by the door, taking in the erotic sight in front of his eyes, his groin already throbbing. Frédérique’s body imitated the shape of a guitar, and her long, dark, silky hair cascaded from her scalp and over the edge of the sofa. She had that look in her brownish-greenish eyes, but there was more than just desire in them, and Richie hoped that Frédérique could see that his own eyes carried the same message.

His eyes still locked with Frédérique’s, Richie walked slowly to the side of the sofa, trying to keep a serious face. He took off the hood from his head, then took the hat from Frédérique’s crotch and put it on as he spoke in a thick, low voice:

“Quit stealing my stuff”

“But it’s so fuzzy and soft…I like it” Frédérique spoke in a pucker as she incorporated herself and extended her arm to take the hat off Richie’s head, but he took a step backwards and captured her wrist with his hand, pulling her closer to him. Frédérique could feel his erection growing under the robe and tried to prevent her lips from curling up in a smirk.

“OK, then…but it doesn’t go with the robe”, she purred, then slightly shook her head and wrinkled her nose, “brown and blue…tsk tsk”.

Richie, understanding Frédérique’s tease and still grasping her wrists, put his other hand on the top of the hat and started lifting it from his head.

“I’ll take it off, then”

“Wait, maybe I said it wrong…” Frédérique lifted herself up on her toes to speak against Richie’s lips, “…it’s the robe that doesn’t go with the hat”, and settled her lips on his, pressing her hips forward against the bulge on Richie’s crotch and taking his hand gently from the hat. Richie let out a throaty moan in response to the pressure of her hips.

He let go of her wrist and she put her heels back on the floor, then placed her right index finger on the base of his throat and started trailing down slowly over the baby soft skin between the lapels of the robe, meeting with her other hand to tug at the knot on the belt.

Richie swallowed hard in anticipation and took Frédérique’s head in his hands to suck her lower lip into his, then as his tongue savoured her taste, his hands glided down over her hair on her back and rested on each of her butt cheeks.

They pulled apart just a second to allow Frédérique to open the robe, then she pressed her body again against Richie’s, circling his waist with her arms, her hands stroking the warm soft skin of his back as they lost themselves in a deep, more urgent kiss. While doing so, they both tried to accommodate Richie’s now full-grown erection in the space between their bodies. Frédérique was so aroused that a drop of her wetness started trailing down her inner thigh. Richie’s body was still letting out steam from the hot shower and his skin was extremely sensitive.

Frédérique then motioned forward and they stumbled as she removed her hands from Richie’s back and moved to help the robe fall from off his shoulders. By the time his ass hit the table across the room in front of the sofa, he was already naked, wearing just his fuzzy leopard print hat. While her arms wrapped themselves around his neck, he pulled her to him by the hips, and one of his hands swiftly traveled down to her crotch. When Richie felt Frédérique’s wet core he was ready to throw her on top of the sofa and fuck her senseless, but he delighted himself in her reaction to his touch, and started flicking her clit with his fingers. To allow him more access, Frédérique lifted her leg and placed her foot on the edge of the table next to Richie’s hips.

“Mmm, I like it that you’re so bendy”, said Richie against her ear. She eased her arms from around his neck and her hands were now on the back of his neck, entangling her fingers with the short damp tresses.

“Richie…”

Frédérique let her head fall back and closed her eyes, parting her lips to gasp for air while Richie increased his ministrations until he felt her shudder and her abdomen muscles tense. Then, he captured her lips to silence her whimper and held her body tight against his with his other arm so she didn’t fall as she rode her orgasm, while he, in turn, concentrated on enjoying how her body responded to the pleasure he was making her feel, which increased his arousal even more.

After the exquisite moment passed and Frédérique was firmly back on her feet, Richie pulled apart and in between gasps he managed to say:

“So…I take it…you liked the show?”

Frédérique chuckled throatily against his chest, still trying to catch her breath.

She looked up to meet his gaze, releasing his neck, and humored him with a pucker:

“Well…you didn’t play any of your songs…”, then she put her right index finger on the cleft of his chin while her other hand rested on Richie’s left pec, scraping over his hard nipple and the soft fur around it.

Richie’s hands were back busy at work with her ass, cupping it and squeezing it – he could never get enough of that perfect, firm, round ass.

“And…uh…which one do you like?”, he said softly before nuzzling her neck, his self-control starting to dissolve as he smelled the sweet sheet of sweat Frédérique’s orgasm had caused her body to produce.

Frédérique had now both her hands fanned over Richie’s pecs, and looked into his eyes mischievously to purr:

“What if I give you a clue and you guess?”

“Alright, I like games” Richie agreed with a smirk, his tone changing from seductive to playful, dimples forming in his cheeks, “If I get it right I get to fuck you?”

“Maybe”, said Frédérique devilishly, “…but if I win…I get to suck your dick”.

The dirty talk mixed with the French accent sent a blast of electricity down Richie’s spine right to his groin - he knew how good she was at it and the thought of what was coming made his dick unbearably hard. Frédérique felt the warmness of his pre-cum on her stomach and his fists clenched above the small of her back: he was ready. Richie pressed his forehead against Frédérique’s and took a deep breath to control himself.

“Fuck…”

“Wrong answer” said Frédérique and ravished his mouth with a kiss, “I win”

“Holy shit” was all Richie was able to utter as Frédérique quickly kissed her way down his chest to his stomach, briefly stopping to lick and kiss his belly button. He dropped his head back and held to the edge of the table with both hands. He was so hard that he thought that the minute she took him in his mouth he was going to come.

“Fred! Fuck!” he shouted in surprise and looked down.

As if she had read his mind, Frédérique went straight to the task of taking him as deep as she could, but only managed to cover a portion of his huge endowment. Richie let out a long groan that later turned into a throaty growl, while Frédérique’s mouth worked on the head and both her hands on the rest of the shaft. He couldn’t help but slightly press his hips forward, but tried to control himself in order not to hurt her.

Richie let his head fall back and closed his eyes -  if he looked, it would be the end. But after only a few moments he couldn’t resist anymore, his knuckles whitened with the tension, the veins in his arms popped up as if they were going to burst. As soon as he lifted his head up to look down at Frédérique, he saw her jerk her head backwards as his orgasm exploded in her mouth. That was all Richie could see before his sight became clouded and he lost himself in the waves of pleasure that flooded his senses. A deep moan escaped his mouth and his knees weakened.

Frédérique held him in her mouth until she felt him relax and then stood up to help him stumble and drop himself like a potato sack on the sofa.

Frédérique took Richie’s hat and put it on herself and spoke in a blameless manner:

“I’m keeping this one”

“Yes, you are”, said Richie with a smirk, arching his eyebrows.

He then lay down stretched along the sofa, placing his head on the armrest and his left forearm over his forehead. With his free hand he pulled Frédérique down to place her in the space between his body and the back of the sofa.

They cuddled and kissed softly, for some more minutes until they heard a loud knock on the door and Jon’s voice coming from the other side.

“No second round for you two lovebirds!” - Richie and Frédérique burst out laughing -  “we’re gettin’ outta here!”

XXIV

The day of the first concert was on a weekday and Frédérique went to work as any other day. Richie would go to the venue early in the afternoon for soundcheck and they had arranged to meet backstage before the show started.

Frédérique was at her office near mid-day when her intern phone rang.

“Aló?”, she hadn’t been able to kick the habit of answering in French.

“OK, I was waiting to see if you said anything to me first…” Gaby spoke teasingly and secretively, without introducing herself, ”… but the day’s come and you haven’t said anything yet, so I figured I might as well ask”.

“About what, Gaby?” Frédérique frowned.

“I hear a certain client of yours is playing tonight…”, said Gaby with mock mystery in her voice, hinting for Frédérique to speak.

But Frédérique already knew what Gaby meant: of course she knew. Richie had told her to bring someone with her to the concert, but Frédérique had hesitated – after all, Gaby was a recent friendship and although she had grown fond of her, she still didn’t trust her when it came to really personal matters. If Gaby went with her to the venue, she would find out about Richie, and Frédérique wasn’t in the mood to be worrying about hiding her relationship – at least not in his environment, so she had avoided any comment on the event. At her friend’s request, however, Frédérique changed her mind.

“Yes, I hear that, too…but I’m also watching at the time and thinking we could maybe have something to eat delivered to my office and talk?”, Frédérique answered making sure that Gaby understood that she couldn’t talk about it over the phone, and Gaby humoured her.

“Sounds great, say…12.30?”

“I’ll be right here”

During lunch, in the privacy of her personal office, Frédérique told Gaby what was going on, and Gaby could hardly contain her excitement.

“Oh.MyGod, Frédérique” said Gaby when her friend finished, after chewing her last sushi roll.

“So what do you say I pick you up at 5? That way we both have time to change after work” Frédérique suggested, and started cleaning up the boxes and chopsticks from her desk and throwing them into the trash bin.

“Fine by me!” Gaby agreed with a grin and stood up to leave. Before she left, and in response to Frédérique’s pleading look she clamped her lips and made a gesture of turning an imaginary key into an imaginary lock on the corners of her lips, then throwing it away.

…

Frédérique absolutely enjoyed live music and this promised to be the mother of all live shows. Seeing the people lining up and the buzz around the stadium had her excitement starting to build up. After parking the car, she followed Richie’s previous instructions as to who to contact to let themselves backstage, and in a matter of minutes she and Gaby were already being led into a big room were the band was still hanging out in their plain clothes on a number of sofas, but Richie wasn’t there.

Before she could open her mouth to ask, though, she was surprised by two strong arms encircling her waist from behind. When she realized it was Richie, she turned to face him and kissed him soundly on the lips.

Frédérique then introduced Gaby to the rest of the band and she in turn, was introduced to other members of the crew that were present in that room at the time. She didn’t get any of the names anyway.

“Sorry you just missed my mom, she’s already out there”, said Richie.

“All your relatives are out there Sambora”, Jon shouted from the back of the room while he followed his assistant to the dressing room to get himself ready, “they sold out the stadium”.

They were still laughing and teasing each other at Jon’s comment when Nikki arrived with Richie’s wardrobe for the show. Richie motioned Frédérique to follow them to his dressing room, but Nikki said it was better if Frédérique went outside to wait for the show to start, since getting Richie ready for the show may take a while. Frédérique agreed that it was a good idea on the grounds that, in fact, she couldn’t see any of the band members’ families there, and thanked Nikki for the suggestion before asking for directions from the crew members as to which was the way to their seats. Gaby followed and approached her to comment secretively next to her ear:

“I see were Jon gets that Superman thing from”, and giggled, “his hair AND his ass definitely defy gravity”.

Frédérique burst out laughing at her friend’s more than accurate statement and after greeting the other band members’ wives and children that were gathering near the stage, she and Gaby finally settled down. Frédérique was already past the excitement point: she was at the verge of euphoria. She started to get goosebumps and looked around  with her lips parted in awe of what she was witnessing. All those thousands of people…So amazing.

The moment before the show started she was so worked up already that she felt her heart was going to fly out of her chest. And the lights came out. And thousands of people roared. And the band took the stage. And rocked the hell out of that stadium.

Some of the songs Frédérique recognized, but couldn’t quite sing along - except for the endless repetition sessions like the itsalrights of “Who says you can’t go home” - so she just banged her head a little bit. She had to admit though: she was a sucker for a good love song and when it came to that, these men were the best.

Frédérique couldn’t help but laugh when the sound went out and the guys kept playing unknowingly of the fact. Richie saw her – that distinctive way of covering her mouth with the back of her hand when she laughed - and frowned questioningly. She signaled and mouthed to him but he was too much into the song so he didn’t get it. Richie then saw her  frown and look around - she was wondering why the hell wasn’t anybody informing them of what was happening.

During the show, Frédérique came to other conclusions: Jon was charming and regal in real life and his wide, warm smile could melt down an iceberg, but onstage he was a king, and his smile shone with the light of a thousand suns. And Richie…as sweet as he was at home with his acoustic guitar, onstage he was a true Rock God.

Yes, that was the man she was…in love with.

Frédérique’s heart skipped a beat at the realization.

When the band were taking their final bows and the fireworks were going off, Gaby felt Frédérique take her hand and put the car keys on her palm, then ask her, screaming over the deafening sound of the fireworks:

“Can you find your way back out?!”, and as soon as Gaby nodded, she continued: “Take my car then! I need to go!”

Gaby didn’t understand Frédérique’s words at first, but after a few moments it sank in her and she smiled: judging by the look on Frédérique’s face they probably wouldn’t see each other until the next day…or maybe not.

New chapters

Hey everyone! I've been picking up my writing pace since, as some of you already know, I'm moving to China (yes, 25.000 kms from where I am right now). We still have a while to go with the story, but I'm working extra hard to finish it before the pre-travel craziness takes over and I promise it'll be finished by the time I leave (7weeks). That is, if karma doesn't get it the way he he (hope it doesn't). This means that if you're interested, you should check daily for a new chapter.

Yeah, I know I was the one who mentioned patience...

Keep reading! The answers are coming...
Love
Toti

XXIII

Ten days later, Richie and Frédérique parked in front of Jon’s house. The band had agreed to meet there: they were launching their next tour to promote the new record with a series of shows at the New Meadowlands Stadium in just a few days. When Jon had talked to Richie on the phone to arrange the meeting, he had “hinted” that Frédérique could maybe bring some of the wine she had brought the previous time.

“Let me help you with that”, said Jon as he came out to meet them, taking a few quick strides towards the truck.  Frédérique was holding a box and Richie was taking another one from the back cabin floor. Jon took the one in Frédérique's arms: “Thank God you’ve brought some more, I was going through withdrawal syndrome”.

“So you finally drank ALL the bottles in your cellar AND you want more?” Richie teased Jon as the three walked towards the door, then shook his head with mock disappointment: “I knew you were a greedy bastard”.

Frédérique chuckled at their interaction but couldn't help but ask: “You’ve got a wine cellar?”

“Yeah” , Jon answered carelessly, “wanna take a look?”

“Of course, I’d love to”, said Frédérique with excitement: they were practically her playground as a child.

Richie gave the box to Frédérique and said: “I’ll leave you two to it then, I’m gonna go say hi to the guys”. He had seen the other band members’ cars parked outside. “I take it they’re at the studio?” he added after pulling Frédérique's face to him by her jaw and giving her a smooch.

Jon nodded and then turned to Frédérique, tilting his head to the space behind him: “Follow me”.

They walked down a corridor until Jon stopped, switched on a light and started walking down a flight of wooden stairs with stone walls to a red door with a lightbulb over it. Jon held the box with one of his arms, resting it on his hips, and with his free hand he opened the door.

“It’s so pretty”, said Frédérique in awe as soon as she walked in. There was a main chamber with two dark green leather armchairs, a table and a tall wooden cabinet. Jon turned on another light and Frédérique could see that there was another chamber separated from the main one by a shield of glass that ran from floor to ceiling. She took a look around: on the right of the glass wall she could see a glass door and the electronic controls that regulated the heat and humidity inside the storage chamber. The whole wall was covered with bottles stored horizontally but with the neck slightly tilted down towards the floor, there were different colors of bottles and different labels hanging from the necks.

They put the boxes on the table and started to take the bottles out.

“So, how was California?”, Jon asked as they were at their task, “Richie told me you went there?”

“Yes, it’s pretty but…not my kind of town actually”

“I’m totally with ya on that one”, Jon agreed and moved on to the storage room and began placing them on the shelves as Frédérique handed them to him.

“I only stayed two days, though, I had lots of work to do back here”.

“Did you meet his daughter?” Jon asked

“Yes, I did”, Frédérique answered, “she’s gorgeous”.

She also briefly remembered having been to the fashion line’s headquarters and meeting Nikki, seeing her subtle territorialism towards Richie, and immediately discarding the observation when she saw Richie’s interaction with the other women in the building, and the effect he seemed to have in them. She secretively smiled, who could she blame? It worked with her, too.

After a few moments Jon spoke again.

“I think we’re done here”, and motioned to the main chamber after slapping his hands against each other to take the dust off. “Thank you for the wine, Fred, it’s delicious”, he paused and then continued, “and you are more than welcome here”.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t-“ Frédérique shook her head and smiled politely.

“Please”, Jon interrupted her as they were walking out. He spoke in a mockingly stern voice, waggling his index finger at Frédérique before closing the door behind him: “But keep your hands off the Pinot Grigio: that one’s off limits”.

Then they both laughed their way up the stairs.

…

That night Frédérique was too excited to sleep. Richie had walked her through the schedule for the upcoming tour, and Frédérique was excited to finally be able to attend a huge arena show, and most of all, she was excited to see Richie in action with the band. Richie had sung for her a couple of times the days she stayed in California - she smirked when she remembered the time he had sung “I’ve just seen a face” one afternoon on the terrace by the pool. Richie and his guitar and his voice: perfection, she couldn't ask for anything more, but she wanted to experience all of it, all of him.

Frédérique had also bought the rest of the band’s discography, but only had time to listen to them lightly at work as low background music. Here and there some songs would call her attention and she’d listen to it again, but that was it.

At home at night, though, Frédérique had played Richie’s solo albums over and over again. That sweet, velvety incredible voice. One of the songs definitely called her attention after she realized she was actually aroused after listening to it, and she had spent all the next day humming while she continued working on the blueprints for the Pennsylvania house.

Down, down, down,

I wanna take you

Down down down...

...

At Jon’s house, laying on the bed watching Richie sleep Frédérique thought about her life and how Richie had turned her world around in a matter of weeks. She was alright with change, good or bad, but this one was specially good. She considered herself happy before she met him, but now she felt safe, relaxed. The last time she had felt that safe and comfortable was back home in Bordeaux, the summer before she moved to Paris to study.

But that seemed so far away, such a long time ago…Frédérique suddenly felt homesick.

She tiptoed downstairs and entered the cellar. She wouldn’t dare to open a bottle of wine, she just wanted to be there, to be somewhere that looked something like home. The moment she felt intrusive, Jon’s words and kindness came immediately to her mind. And his angel face - if at first she had been intimidated by him, now she realized she was absolutely comfortable around him: he was friendly and kind. So charming.

She sat down on one of the leather armchairs, hugging her legs folded in front of her with both arms and resting her feet on the edge of the seat. She relished in the memories of home: the smell of the moldy stone and young wine spilled on the floor, the soft buzz coming from the fermenting bottles, the woody smell of the barrels.

…

Frédérique woke up when she felt two warm hand pressing her arms just below her shoulders, and a soft, husky voice speaking:

“Hey”

She was so dead asleep that at first she just tried to shook them off so she could continue, but the voice spoke again with a soft chuckle.

“Sweetie, you’re freezing to death”

Without opening her eyes Frédérique confirmed that it was true, and she was trembling. She slowly opened her eyes and saw Jon’s face barely a couple of inches from hers, staring with those bright blue eyes from behind the courtain of blonde tresses that fell from his forehead.

Without moving a hair, she finally managed to ask softly:

“Quelle heure est-il?”, but at Jon's puzzled look she repeated: "Um...What time is it?"

“Well, it’s late…or early, depending on how you look at it”

Frédérique finally started incorporating herself from the armchair and took a look around to evaluate her situation.

“I’m sorry, I guess I fell asleep”, she said sleepily when she realized where she was.

“S’alright”, said Jon carelessly, but she looked wobbly so he helped her up by her wrists. “But for your own sake I just hope I don’t find an empty bottle of Pinot in the garbage…”, he finished with a sideways smirk, “...least of all the one I came looking for”

Frédérique couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. She stood with her mind still adrift for a second and then spoke lazily:

“I guess I’ll go to bed now”, and she moved forward to give Jon a hug “Good night?”

“Yeah, good night”. Jon returned the hug and he felt her nipples press against his chest through her white tanktop. Goddamnit.

Frédérique's brow furrowed slightly in an automatic response. Then, like a sleepwalker, she went back to bed and curled herself around Richie.

XXII

Frédérique remembered David telling her about his musical Memphis, so she thought it would be fun to go see it. However, the sign was dark and they headed for a cinema just around the corner from Frédérique’s apartment instead. As they walked out of the cinema, she dug in her purse to retrieve her cell phone and turned it back on: there was a missed call from Richie, it had been made a little more than an hour before.

Frédérique and Emilie said their goodbyes and she returned Richie’s call, but he didn’t answer, so she let out a painful sigh: she missed him, she needed to see his face and listen to his voice. As soon as she got home, she played the These Days CD again and opened her laptop to ran a Google Images search for “Richie Sambora” .

Then she pressed “Enter”.

…

When Frédérique didn’t answer, Richie hung up and remained seated by the piano. Barely two minutes later it buzzed, and Richie jumped: it was one of his friends from California and they spent almost an hour catching up, making arrangements to see each other sometime in the near future. After they hung up, Richie decided he would take a shower before going to pick his daughter up. When he came back out almost twenty minutes later, he had two missed calls: one from his daughter and the other from Frédérique. Richie called his daughter first - the other may take a while, or not, who knew – and spent the next 15 minutes talking with his daughter, who informed him that she was staying at her mother’s house that night because she and her friends had organized a pajama party and she didn’t want to do it at his place - she knew those things drove her father crazy. She had already arranged for her mother to pick her up from school.

Then Richie dialed Frédérique’s number.

As soon as she answered he began: “Hey baby...Howya-“

“Richie, thank God, listen to me” – she interrupted him – “I’m on my way to the airport”.

…

In the line to check-in, sitting in the boarding area and then on the plane, Frédérique tried to wrap her head around what she had seen and read.

It had taken her some time at the beginning to finally come to terms with the fact that Richie was who he was, but this…How had he ended up like that? Frédérique anxiously thumbed through the reports, her hands shaking, her eyes filled with tears. Even though it had been over two years now, her heart ached. But she couldn’t trust what other people said: she had to hear it from him. And it wasn’t going to be on the phone: she wanted to hold him and comfort him, and prevent that from ever happening to him again.

It was then that it hit her: what Frédérique felt for Richie was something completely new, she had never cared this much about someone but for herself, and this time - for the first time - he was the more important one. Frédérique remembered her own words that afternoon: she had told Emilie – though it was mostly for herself - that she wouldn’t fall for Richie.

But it was happening. And Frédérique wasn’t afraid anymore: she would tell him, he’d understand and they’d deal with it.

…

When Frédérique arrived at the airport, Richie was waiting for her and then they drove over to his house. They ran a warm bath, Frédérique got in and Richie sat in the space between her legs. While she gently scrubbed him with a soft sponge, he was finally able to open up.

“I’m blessed ya know – he said after finishing his story - …I don’t think I coulda made it without him”, Richie told Frédérique about Jon. They paused and changed positions, Richie undid the bun she had her hair wrapped up in and started shampooeing it, while he told him about their friendship and the strong bond they shared - something Frédérique had never felt and doubted would ever experience.

Then she rolled over to look at him. “I wish I had been there for you”, she said sweetly and softly after he was done and before they shared a soft, lingering kiss.

Richie took her head with his hands and pulled her face close to his.

“Fred”, he paused and looked into her eyes, “I think I’m falling in love with you”

…

Around half an hour later and after they made love on Richie’s bed, Frédérique was brushing her fingers over Richie’s left arm tattoo and smiled when she saw the word written on it. Faith.

Yes, she'd tell him. When the time came.

XXI

That night, though, Jon stayed in the kitchen, deep in meditation: he needed to sort things out so he could have control over the situation. He never acted out of instinct, all his moves were made after a thorough analysis of the different scenarios, pondering possibilities and probabilites, discarding the least likely ones and adding his own intentions. Then he analyzed the consequences to check that he could live with them, until he was one hundred percent sure that what he was going to do was the right thing. 

That was of course, if his dick didn’t get in the way.

He started by the obvious: he felt attracted to Frédérique. And she was Richie’s.

Another obvious fact: his wife. He loved her, but that hadn’t prevented him for falling in the past. He knew the effect he caused in women, and the ones they caused in him, so he was unapologetic about indulging in them every once in a while: after all, it hadn’t changed a thing.

Richie had made it easy for Jon in the past by dating women that, though in-your-face attractive, were far from being his type. Frédérique, however, was EXACTLY his type: beautiful and simple, zero bullshit. No starry eyes, no freaking out about the band. A well educated smart woman with an easy-flowing conversation. Last but not least…by the looks of Sambora they were having a more than happy time in the sack.

Jon wanted anything but his friend to be happy: Richie could fuck around with everything that walked within a mile around him, but this wasn’t it - he was truly happy, she was good for him. Then Jon's protective alarms went off: if this didn’t work, Richie would be torn to pieces, and Jon would be the one picking them up.

Hopefully for Richie’s sake, Frédérique was here to stay.

For Jon, though, it would be a pain in the ass. But he could deal with it, yes, he was a strong man. At around 5.20 in the morning Jon was finally satisfied.

Alright, Goddamit. Behave.

…

Next Monday in the afternoon in California, Richie had spent the whole morning at the fashion line’s headquarters while his daughter was at school. He was home and he had a few more hours to spend before he had to go pick her up, he was filling the magic tingling inside, he recognized it, and sat down at the piano with a notepad, a pencil and  the guitar on one side: it was time to write.

He had been in California since Friday: the morning he and Frédérique had left Jon’s house, he had received a call from Nikki, and realized that he wouldn’t be able to get her off his back unless he went over. Besides, he missed his daughter, too.

Richie had tried to convince Frédérique to fly with him but hadn’t succeded. “I’m on a roll”, she had said, and he knew what she meant, so he didn’t push. “I’ll still be here when you come back”, Frédérique had said in a seductive voice, “and besides, we haven’t had phone sex, yet”. He smirked at the memory of the previous night's communication.

Richie put his fingers on the piano keys and closed his eyes so he could channel his emotions. He preferred to work on the music first, from the emotion on, while Jon, instead, preferred working on the words, from the title of the song on. Richie was surprised by the notes that came to his years: he hadn’t play that song for many years now, it hurt too much. When he had wrote it he was madly in love with his wife and could have sworn that they’d be together forever. But it hadn’t worked out, though, and he had ended up broken and bruised.

If you should ever leave that would be the end of me

Ha. Well, Richie hadn't ended, and he was still there after she left, alone with nothingness – that’s when he started feeling the sting, and had fallen into his ex wife’s friend’s arms. It was comfortable, familiar, and most of all, he didn’t have to think. It helped at first, but then he just couldn’t do it, and broke down.

The arrest, rehab. Richie’s trail of thoughts was suddenly cut. The tabloids, the internet. He hadn’t talk about that with Frédérique yet, so she probably didn’t know. How long would it be until she read it on the internet or somebody told her? Ow, the sting. It was better if she heard it from him.

Richie did some quick maths regarding the times zones: Frédérique was probably already back home, so he picked up his phone and dialed.

…

That same day, Frédérique was excited to meet with her friend Emilie, who was in NY for business, and took the afternoon off, in order to avoid missing Richie during the weekend she had worked herself to sleep, with the only difference that she had done it at home rather than at the studio.

If there was someone Frédérique could call her best friend, Emilie was that person. They had been friends since the first day of school, but due to Frédérique’s traveling and studies, they didn’t see each other often - sometimes they only got to see each other once or twice a year, but every time it would be as if not a day had passed since they had last met.

During lunch at a restaurant near Central Park, they mostly spoke about their jobs and their families and how Frédérique had adjusted to living in New York, but Emilie noticed Frédérique’s insightfulness and lost stare, the tiny muscles in her face reacting to images that she was seeing with her mind eyes. Frédérique didn’t like to talk about more private things if there were people around, and the restaurant was very crowded. Emilie waited until they were taking a walk in the park after lunch with coffee in their hands, to talk to her friend. It was early spring, the temperature was mild and it was sunny.

“So tell me, are you seeing anyone?”, she finally asked as they passed under one of the stone bridges.

Frédérique hesitated instinctively: she was very private about her relationships and was used to dealing with her ramblings all by herself, but Emilie’s familiarity and easiness made her relax and open up.

“Yes, I actually am”, she finally said with a smirk. “He’s great”

“OK…go on...how did it start?” Emilie encouraged her with her hand and Frédérique briefed her on the story. When she was done, Emilie took some moments to ponder and finally spoke after they sat on one of the benches:

“Wow, so crazy”

“Yes, but you know how it ends” Frédérique answered with a tone of resignation.

“And why would it end exactly?”

“You know how it ends, Emilie”, Frédérique looked into her friend’s eyes and continued, “and it starts when I tell them”.

“Oh” Emilie remembered what Frédérique had confided her more than ten years ago. "So you haven't told him yet".

“No, it’s too soon” said Frédérique while she shook her head, but smiled to herself remembering the previous days. “I mean, I know it’s going to end, I have wrapped my head around it, I know I can survive. I just don’t want it to be because of this, because of me”.

Frédérique paused before she continued: “I’ll see how far it goes...it may even be over before I tell him”. Then she finished: “So why ruin things now? I don't want this to last a minute less than it's supposed to"

Frédérique was deep inside herself, so Emilie tried to reach in, concern in her voice: “But you need to have faith, honey...there are other options you know".

"That wasn't enough for the others, remember? Why would this one be any different?", Frédérique frowned.

"By what you've told me, he's really special...he might be fine with it", Emilie said and took some moments before she resumed, "And then...what if you fall for him?”.

Frédérique froze and Emilie felt “the wall” come up: it was the end of the conversation, Frédérique wouldn’t talk about that anymore.

After a few moments of silence, Frédérique finally stood up:

“Ever been to a Broadway show?”

XX

Jon was finally done clearing up the dirty dishes from the dining room table. He turned off the lights and was headed upstairs to check that all the lights were off, his children asleep and all the doors were closed. He instinctively gravitated towards Richie’s room, but remembered his friend wasn’t alone. Then he saw the door of the playroom ajar and that the lights were on. He found Frédérique sitting on one of the little green chairs, bending over the low table, halfway through a Solitaire game.

“Everything OK in there?”, Jon questioned with concern in his voice, with a hint of inquisition. He was half way through the door, one hand on the door knob.

Frédérique gasped and stood up: “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t…”, she said apologetically while she accommodated her hair over her breasts to hide the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra, which was pointless because it only made Jon notice that even more.      

“…sleep, yeah”, Jon completed her sentence and sighed, “I know, it’s a bitch ain’t it?”. What else could keep her up playing Solitaire at 2 in the morning?. Jon shrugged and offered casually, his head was hanging slightly over his left shoulder:  “Want some wine? It helps”

Frédérique was surprised at the kindness in his voice, he honestly seemed to care, so she immediately felt more relaxed, and comfortable. Before she could answer, Jon continued:

“I recognize a true wino when I see one, and judging by the look in your eyes, you regret not having brought a glass of wine with you upstairs”.

Wow, how does he do that?

“No, please, you entertained quite a lot of guests this evening, don’t feel… you must be tired”. Frédérique struggled to decline, but felt she was fighting a losing battle. She flapped her hand at Jon and smiled politely. “You’re too kind, don’t deprive yourself from sleep just because I’m a mess”

Jon tiped his head to the corridor and spoke softly: “Come on, I got some downstairs”, but Frédérique had seen that tone during dinner and how the people around him responded: it was an order.  He continued: “Not the ones you brought, though, those went dry in a matter of minutes”. And then he flashed her that smile: it was pointless to resist.

Frédérique finally agreed:

“OK, but I get to pick”

…

A little more than an hour later, Jon and Frédérique were playing poker in the kitchen, a quarter of a bottle of wine left.

Jon had dug out just about all her personal information: origin, age, education, job history, her father’s French origin, her mother’s Italian origin, her brothers and their girlfriends, her nephew and the Hotel and Vineyard her family ran, the variety of grapes they planted and had even made some suggestions. If she hadn’t known better, Frédérique could have sworn that he was an expert interrogator – and the most charming one.

Then he asked about Richie’s project and Frédérique briefly commented on it, and also on the big project they were dealing with right now at the studio. Jon commented that he supported a foundation that built houses, and Frédérique became interested and asked for more information. From time to time Jon scratched the tattoo on his left arm. Superman, of course. As they played poker, Jon submerged himself deeply into his monologue about the concept behind the foundation. His voice was exquisite. Frédérique nodded from time to time and wondered at how intense and complicated his mind was, how he found the connection in things that appeared far from having one. He only paused when they stopped to show their cards, or call a bet, then resumed.

Suddenly, Richie entered the kitchen.

“There it is, I’ve been looking for my T-shirt all night long” he stood behind Frédérique’s chair, bent over and put his arms around her shoulders before nuzzling her neck. “Give it back to me. Now”, he said into her ear.

“Oh Lawd, you make me puke” Jon said rolling his eyes. And Frédérique giggled.

“So what were you two up to?” Richie asked, then released her, opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of mineral water. As he waited for their response, he drank.

“I couldn’t sleep and Jon’s been kind enough to offer me some wine”, she stretched her neck and massaged it with her hands, “Mmm, I think it worked”.

Richie finished his bottle of water and said to Jon: "If you're done getting this lady drunk, I'm taking her".

"Go right ahead, knock yourself out", Jon said.

"Thank you Jon...hope to see you soon", said Frédérique sincerely, giving him the honest smile. She moved forward to hug him but Richie took her by the hand and started tugging her behind him. With a grin, he said:

"Sorry man, gotta run", and they were soon out of the kitchen, but Jon raised his voice so he made sure they could hear him:

"Jesus Christ Sambora, please, wait at least until you get to the bedroom"

….

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.