LII

A little more than a week into the O2 shows in London, during the wee hours of the morning and Sinatra playing on the background, Jon sat on the loveseat of his suite with a glass of Balbé wine in his hand, one bare foot on the coffee table in front of him next to an empty bottle. It was the last one, and what was left of the glass was the last he’d ever taste of Frédérique.

He went back to before he met her. Be careful what you wish for. Ha. Jon - and his wife, too - had always prayed for a good woman to sweep Richie off his feet and make him walk the line, and she had arrived, only Jon would have never in a million years imagined what he would feel about her. It had been a bumpy road to where they were standing now, but that only seemed to have been a test so they realized they were really meant for each other. No, Frédérique had never been meant for Jon, and he couldn’t be happier for Richie – she was perfect. He knew that. First hand. Just for one night.  He hadn’t seen Frédérique since then, and now it was only a matter of hours until she arrived in London. To be with Richie.

And Richie had been beyond inspired during these shows. Woo-hoo. Like burst-into-flames-smoke-coming-from-guitarstrings kind of inspired. Each night Richie had the crowd eating from the palm of his hands, jaws dropped, heads bowing in respect. The King of Swing was back full-on mode. Yeah, baby. Yup, that was his friend: guitar player extraordinaire and Jon was more than proud, even when Richie had stolen his thunder a little bit.

The only thing everyone complained about was that "the devil" Sambora had been tamed now and partying on tour had become more - a lot more - innocent. Bummer.

His thoughts then turned to his first conversation on the phone with Richie after returning from California. Richie, Richie, Richie. Jon pursed his lips. If he had ever hoped that Richie would, at some point, realize that most of his mistakes and bad choices in life came from the fact that he was in the end just too good of a guy, now he was one hundred percent positive that it was never going to happen. Richie had told Jon about his conversation with Nikki and that she had of course denied having anything to do with the Mohegan and subsequent events. That wasn’t a surprise at all. But Richie had told him that he still felt a little sad for her, for having let her go that far when he was vulnerable and hurting. He cared for her and trusted her in the end: their summer-spring collection was on their way and she’d been putting all of her talent on it despite their “situation” and it was turning out really good. So in order to make it up to her – as if everything had been HIS fault - sweet Richie had agreed to help her produce a music record. Jon secretively rolled his eyes and let out a sharp sigh. Only the Lord knew what could come out of that, but Richie assured him that in a way it made him feel better. It wasn't that Jon didn't trust Richie's musical talent, but feared it wouldn't be enough to make up for Nikki's lack of it.

But at least Richie was happy, focused, healthy and inspired. That was all that mattered. Jon took the last sip of wine, held it between his tongue and his palate and slowly swallowed it, enjoying the subtle and delicious aftertaste. Bienvenue back, Fred.

…

At around noon the following day he was already in his jogging clothes, baseball cap on, and on his way out of his hotel suite, but as he opened the door he heard Frédérique’s distinct throaty laughter and giggles mixed with Richie’s husky growls coming from the other end of the corridor. He froze to the spot but kept the door ajar. Richie’s suite was across the corridor from Jon’s, only a few yards closer to the elevator. Then there was some husky whispering and again giggles as a suitcase bumped against the door, then a magnetic card was slid into the electric lock followed by a beep. Some more bumping, giggling and groans…even a little whimper. He was about to finally exit when he realized the door hadn’t closed back. “Jesus Christ”. Jon mumbled and rolled his eyes, then smirked. “Close the door, Sambora for Christ’s sake”.

As though they’d heard him, the door was slammed close and Jon walked out and down the corridor towards the elevator. There was no doubt that was the last he’d see of them until the following day. When he passed by Richie’s door again he heard  Frédérique’s laughter turn into a deep moan, and he shook his head as it hung from his neck, his lips holding the sideways smirk. In the elevator he found two slip-on black sandals. Frédérique’s size. He took them and strode back to his room, put them in the cupboard and strode back to the elevator door. Once in, he let out a puff of air upwards and leaned against the mirror with his hands on his waist. Oh Lord. The elevator was packed with her scent.

…

Frédérique remained, covered in sweat, on top of Richie’s also sweaty body, catching her breath with her face on Richie’s chest as it rose and fell…rose and fell, her hands still clutched at his shoulders as his fingertips lazily ran up and down her back. They were still on the carpet of the suite’s living-room, they hadn’t even made it to the bedroom.

“I’ve missed you so much”, she whispered and kissed his chest softly, letting the tip of her tongue taste his salty skin, then moved to kiss his lips.

“Not as much as I did you”, he told her after breaking the kiss and pulled her into his arms again. The following moments they spent devouring their mouths and rolling over the carpet, hands all over each other until Richie broke the kiss with a gasp, then swallowed and growled.

“Time to show ya the bedroom”

…

It took most of the afternoon for them to finally finish tasting every inch of each other’s body, as if making sure that the image they had held in their minds for a week was accurate. During the bath Frédérique started dozing off in Richie’s arms and he suggested she ate something before going to bed, so they walked out and put on their robes. As Richie called room service to have an early dinner delivered to their suite, Frédérique started gathering the different items of clothing scattered all over the living room, among which was her burgundy wrap dress that she had worn at Richie’s request, putting all of them in a laundry bag.

Then she frowned and put her wet hair behind her ears. Where are the sandals? She smiled secretively to herself: she remembered taking them off as soon as she got into the elevator, her feet were a little bit swollen from the flight and her feet hurt. But then she had gotten “distracted” when Richie, in a sudden movement had jerked the straps that held the dress together and exposed her body to him before slamming her against the mirror. They only stopped grinding against each other when they heard a beep indicating that they had arrived at their floor, so she had wrapped the dress together again.

She told Richie about that between laughs and then called the front desk to see if any member of the staff had found them. The answer was negative and she shrugged. No problem at all. Things come and go, that’s the way it is.

From her suitcase she took Keith Urban’s CD “Defying gravity” and put it on the CD player in the living room, then started humming the song and walked to the window to regard the wonderful views of London. She’d been there lots of times before, after all, it was just “across the pond”, but now it seemed even more beautiful.

Well I know there’s a reason

And I know there’s a rhyme

We were meant to be together

And that’s why…

She felt Richie’s hands untie, with a couple quick jerks, the belt of her robe and slide his hands under it as he nipped at her earlobe. With mock jealousy he teased her.

“Ya know, he let me play with his banjo once”

Frédérique chortled sharply when a certain image flashed through her mind. “Excuse me?!”, she exclaimed. “He let you ‘play with his banjo’?”

Richie chuckled and the doorbell rang. He wiggled his eyebrows and teased her again with a wide grin. “It’s always good to know what turns my girl on”. Then he gave her a smooch and Frédérique tied her robe back as Richie walked towards the door.

While they fed each other on the loveseat of the living room, they went through their schedule for the following day: in the morning Richie and Tico would be interviewed by different radios and local newspapers in Richie's suite.

“You can stay if you want”, he told her carelessly, “and make sure I don’t speak any nonsense”. She just smiled and shook her head. “I need to run. I’ve been sitting in front of the computer for 12 hours a day to make up for all the work I won’t be doing these days”, she explained and finished with an arched brow and a mischievous smirk.

Then in the afternoon they’d go to the venue a little earlier so Richie would show Frédérique around: she had already visited the Millenium dome back in 2000 when it hosted a series of pavilions designed by different famous architects, but hadn’t set foot on it since. Plus, she was ultra excited to see Richie perform again. And use that talkbox. It seemed like ages since she’d last been to a concert.

LI

Thiage and his girlfriend sat by the big, round table that had been laid for lunch in the garden by the shadow of the trees that surrounded the chateau, sharing stories about the wedding, when he saw Richie arrive, carrying Frédérique on his back. Richie gently put her down, kissed her and patted her butt before she walked over to the house and entered the service door.

Of course it had taken Thiage only a short while the previous night to do a little research on Richie, and he didn’t like what he’d found. At all. However, even more than his own judgment or the internet, he trusted his sister: he’d seen them interact while they danced at the wedding - it wasn't his lifestyle or celebrity status what attracted her (that much Thiage already knew), there was so much more: short of their palpable physical chemistry, there was a certain vulnerability to Richie that caused  Frédérique to truly and deeply care for him. And trust him, in a way Thiage had never seen before in her. And through Frédérique, Thiage was able to look past Richie’s public image and history into the goofy, easy-going, down-to-earth, overall charming guy.

It took only a couple of lines for Richie to attract the young couple’s attention and soon after greeting Thiage with a handshake and Romaine with a double peck, they engaged in conversation. Thiage’s English was correct, but not at all as fluid as Frédérique’s, so he struggled to get past Richie’s heavy Jersey accent, and Richie noticed how Thiage furrowed his brow slightly from time to time so he tried to tone it down a little. Thiage’s girlfriend, however, only got to interject a couple of observations here and there but her English wasn’t good enough to keep up with the conversation, so she just observed and laughed from time to time at Richie’s cartoonish expressions.

In the end, Thiage couldn’t help but like Richie: despite the fact that he doubled his age, his boyish half-little-teeth-half-gum honest smile totally won him over. During the course of the past year or so, Thiage had noticed how Frédérique had apparently chosen loneliness over a hurtful relationship - or being with someone out of fear of being alone - , and judging by her overall happy and balanced state in comparison to previous times, Thiage had come to accept that maybe she had made the right decision by remaining alone. Nonetheless, he just couldn’t come to terms with the idea of his sister being alone forever, and only hoped that Richie would be the one to prove him wrong.

Richie’s cell phone buzzed – “Fred”. It was a code. Immediately another text from her: “You might need this to open my door”. Richie smirked and his eyes sparkled: she was officially letting him back into her life again and he wasn’t going to fuck things up this time. He'd get it right, for once not for himself, but for her. 

The rest of the family joined the table except for Frédérique and her mother, who took some more minutes to walk out of the door arm in arm. The previous night, only after the last guests to the wedding had left, had Frédérique finally found time to tell her parents about Richie and explain his presence there, making a long story short by telling them how they’d met and how much she loved him, but that they’d grown apart for a while for different reasons – which she spared them – and how happy she was that he'd come unexpected, and that they’d gotten back together. They were ecstatic – they hadn’t seen her this happy in years, and the fact that she was opening up to them was even more of a relief. They’d asked with concern how he felt about her condition, and she had assured them that he was supportive and understanding.

On arriving at the table, Frédérique found Thiage trying to teach Richie how to pronounce her name.

“Yes, it’s like Frederick but ends with kuh, that’s what makes it a girls’ name”, Thiage told him. Duh. That was all he asked for, he’d try to get Richie to pronounce the ‘r’ the French way some other time in the future when he had gathered more patience.

“Leave him alone”, she ordered in their native tongue with a chuckle and slapped his brother softly on the back of his head as she sat next to Richie.

“Wait, look”, Richie told her, and tried a couple of times until he finally got it and then looked at her with a satisfied grin, squeezing her thigh and kissing her on the cheek after she clapped her hands and cheered.

As they ate he observed the different interactions amongst the members of the family – they spoke mainly in French but from time to time either Frédérique translated or somebody said something in English so he’d understand. They completely embraced him, it felt natural and comfortable - just like it had felt since the first time he’d met Frédérique. He might have been in fact a stranger to them, but he didn’t feel like one at all.

They were all well-educated, refined and easy going. Richie was only ten years younger than her dad (who didn’t look his age at all thanks to his abundant hair and a Beatles’ haircut that gave him a kind of Andy Warhol look), and her mother’s age (who if by judged for her looks, anyone would think she must haven given birth to Frédérique by the age of twelve), but they didn't seem to have freaked out about it. How hard it must be for Frédérique - even when it was her choice - to be away from her family. How lonely she must have felt. But she wasn’t alone anymore, and he wouldn’t let her be alone anymore - at least not for as long as he walked this earth. He debated with himself whether he despised or thanked the bastards that had made her suffer and felt a little selfish: their loss and her suffering, but his gain.

After they were done with lunch they remained seated and drinking wine for a well additional half hour. Frédérique silently took Richie’s hand in hers and entangled their fingers together. While the rest of the family continued their loud conversations, they stared into each others eyes, little smiles curling their lips.

She sighed: everything felt right, it was meant to be this way. Yes, but even in a bed made of roses, there were still thorns hidden underneath the soft petals: hard times would come, for sure, but they’d be there for each other. He made her happy, and she’d devote herself to make him happy in return. A rush of excitement ran through her body: she couldn’t wait to start the rest of her life with Richie.

Richie glanced at his watch and realized that soon they should be at the airport. Doing some quick math he confirmed that it was too early back there yet, so he'd call his daughter from the aireport. As disappointed as he was the previous night at having to leave, now a rush of excitement invaded him: he couldn’t wait to go back to the States and start his new life with Frédérique.

Thiage spoke and interrupted their meditations, looking at his watch and standing up. “Not that I want you to leave, but you two should get going”. They both nodded. Richie took Frédérique’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, then with a grin he asked.

“Ready, gorgeous?”

She replied with a wide smile. “Never been more ready, baby”.

L

Once inside the bathtub they sat facing each other, close enough so Frédérique's thighs rested in each side of Richie's waist,  and started discussing their plans for the following week: Richie wasn't ready to leave Frédérique alone in New York, yet – he’d rather just hang out at her apartment or maybe become more involved with the project again and perhaps spend some time with his mom. Frédérique asked him when he was planning on traveling to California, then: he'd have to at some point in the following ten days if he wanted to be with his daughter before the band started their residence at the O2 Arena.  Nikki. Richie unconsciously held his breath when he remembered he had to have THAT conversation with her and also tell her that-

“The sooner she finds out, the less she'll suffer, Richie”, she told him calmly: she'd felt him tense when they spoke about California and he apparently was evading the subject. She continued to gently scrub his arm with the sponge, her eyes following the movement of her hand and then she added with the same clamness in her voice. “And it will be even less painful if she hears it from you”.

As usual, Frédérique was already a step ahead of his thoughts. Richie took a moment before speaking.

“You prom-“, he started reminding her with a hint of sadness in his voice but she interrupted him by pressing a finger on his lips. She silently took his hand in hers, entangled fingers and pressed reassuringly, before kissing the back of his hand and looking into his eyes to let him know that her braking the promise was necessary to make him know that she was understanding. She held no resentment at all towards Nikki: she had only taken advantage of the situation that Frédérique had provoked, maybe she had even made Richie's pain - for Frédérique felt responsible - more bearable by being there for him…like Jon had done for her when she thought that Richie had moved on. Yes, she’d keep her promise: whatever had happened during the time that she and Richie were apart would remain in the past - forgiven and forgotten. They were together now, and Richie loved her. That was all that mattered. She let go of his hand and put her arms around his neck, then pressed her cheek against his.

“Never, remember?” Richie cut her train of thoughts by insisting in reminding her of the promise they had made the previous day. She nodded against his cheek, then planted a soft kiss on it and pulled apart to take the bottle of shampoo from a shelf by the bathtub.

Richie remained silent, with his eyes lost in space for a few moments, massaging Frédérique's shoulders and neck as he pondered. Frédérique patiently gave him time by concentrating on the task of shampooing his hair. Yes, of course he’d have to tell Nikki that he and Frédérique were back together. He was still to find out whether she had played any part in the succession of coincidences and mistakes that had prevented him and Frédérique to sort things out when she'd come looking for him at Mohegan Sun. If she had, anyway, she probably wouldn’t admit it. But Richie felt forgiving: Frédérique’s reassurance and calmness made his anger level drop. Nikki was his friend and partner after all. And he was with Frédérique now. That was all that mattered.

Then Frédérique clasped his head with both hands and tilted it up so she could look into his eyes.

“I love you” she reminded him breathlessly. He was going to say the same thing but she pulled his head closer to hers so their noses touched and their eyes locked. Instead, he replied by giving her a long, soft kiss, letting his tongue press on different spots of her lips, entering slightly to caress the slick inside of her lips as she, in turn, slightly sucked his lower lip. He sighed in relief against the kiss: everything was going to be alright now. Everything was in the right place.

Some moments afterwards and more relaxed now, they agreed on both flying to California on Friday, then Frédérique would return to New York on Sunday night and Richie would remain in the West Coast two or three additional days before flying back to New York to spend a couple days with Frédérique before flying to London. Richie resumed the conversation about the project while Frédérique rinsed his hair: she clarified that there was no turning back on the decision of letting Gaby take over the construction, it wouldn't be professional otherwise. As promised, however, she’d keep a close eye on each upcoming stage. She'd regained her excitement about the project again and found it difficult to wrap her head around the fact that, in the future, she might be sharing with Richie those same spaces she herself had created. As Frédérique entertained these thoughts, Richie's stomach fluttered when happy thoughts of their future together flooded his mind, vanishing again all his preoccupations.

When they came out, she put on a pair of tight-fit jeans with knee-high boots and a yellow tube top, tying her hair with a clip on the nape of her neck, letting the wavy strands fall to the front over one shoulder. Richie put on a pair of loose-fit brown jeans and a purple V-neck T from his own clothing line. He took the rosary, the chain with the dagger token and wristband from the bathroom counter and put them on, too. Richie had taken some of what was still on the dinner tray during the course of the night so he didn’t get any breakfast and Frédérique just ate a handful of grapes – it was so late in the morning now that she might as well wait for lunch. Then both started packing. 

Frédérique was bending over her open suitcase when Richie approached her from behind and she felt him put something on her head. She reached up with her hands and felt the distinct fuzzy texture of his leopard print hat. She stood up silently and turned around to look up at Richie. With a slight smirk on his lips he reminded her.

“You said you’d be keeping this one”.

She silently put her arms around his waist and plastered herself to him. “I’m so sorry…It was befo-“

“S’alright, I didn’t get it until two days ago when I got home”, he interrupted her and encircled her with both arms. “After all it was what made me realize I couldn’t wait one more second to see you”. They held each other silently for a long minute, then he kissed the crown of her head before speaking again. “Let’s go, darlin' - it’s a beautiful day.”

Downstairs, they briefly greeted Frédérique’s parents in the living-room, her other two brothers, except for the newlywed were already hard at work at the winery and the hotel respectively, and the rest of the relatives that had been lodged in the house had left earlier in the morning. Walking away from the main door, Richie looked back over his shoulder to admire the splendid chateau again: it bore many similarities to Jon’s, only the surroundings were much more attractive and made the building stand out even more. Judging for what he had seen in the interior, it was all luxuriously and tastefully decorated. He was surprised by the, in contrast, rather simple life Frédérique led in New York compared to the exuberant lifestyle of her wealthy family.

“This is impressive, Fred…and he started this from scratch?”

She replied with a little smile and a nod before explaining. “We used to live in that smaller house on the opposite side of the vineyard”. She pointed with her finger but it was so far away Richie could only tell the it was a two-story-plus-masard traditional French house, at least 4 times smaller than the one behind him. They continued walking hand in hand, downhill along the alleys created by the vine rows. “Then the business just went well and dad bought the chateau, which doubled as  both a bed-and-breakfast and family home. Until…”, she emphasized by bowing her head, “… the business started going really, really well, and he had the modern building built, which is now the hotel. So the chateau is all for the family now”. Richie turned his head to look at the simple lines but avant-garde look of the new constructions emerging from the bright green treetops about fifty yards to the right of the chateau. He couldn't understand how it was possible for her to have decided to leave that place, that city and that way of life.

“Yes, this is all very pretty...", she acknowledged and Richie snapped his face towards her in surprise - he was sure he hadn't been thinking out loud, "...but doesn’t it happen to you that the more you travel the more you realize that there are only five things at the most that you really, really need?”. She asked him wrinkling her nose, but Richie remained insightful, meditating on her words, so she kept talking. “The more things you have, the more you have to carry around, and the more problems you have because of them. AND the harder you have to work to keep them, don’t you think?”, she chuckled and wrinkled her nose again. Richie was now finally able to understand where her sense of freedom and independence came from. He completely forgot about answering her question and instead he smiled while he admired her face under the sun. He pulled her hand up nearer to his face and kissed the back of it. Yes, she was like a breeze of fresh air, her own freedom washing over him, lightening his soul. “What?” she asked with a broad smile at his mysterious attitude.

“Luvya, babe. Can’t luvya more”, he told her shaking his head, arching his eyebrows and pursing his lips, faking an apology. He stopped their walk to pull her tight into his arms and, speaking in a low voice, almost afraid that in any minute he’d wake from the sweet dream he was having, he told her: ”I’m beginning to think I’m the luckiest guy on earth right now, you could have easily never left this place”, he lifted his face and looked around before going back to her face. “I could have easily never met you”.

“But you did, and I’m the one that feels lucky for that”. She told him before they shared a smooch and resumed their walk.

When they arrived at the cellar and warehouses, Frédérique and her brother Alain showed him around and he was able to taste the different varieties of wines they produced. She knew the craft and the processes to perfection and he noticed how she supervised everything with an eagle eye, even when it was her brother who was in charge of that task. About forty minutes later they re-emerged and started walking back uphill, being met by her dogs: a boxer and a Neapolitan mastiff, with Jacques - Frédérique’s nephew - at their tow, announcing that lunch was ready and that the family was waiting for them.

They started walking uphill hastily still holding hands as Jacques continued his way dunhill towards the winery. Frédérique quickly gained a couple of steps of advantage on Richie so she looked back to stick her tongue out and tease him as she tugged his arm, but almost simultaneously she hooked a vine root that looped up from the ground and tripped. She was carrying herself with such impulse that despite the fact that Richie increased the pressure of his hand around hers to contain her fall, he couldn’t, and they both fell down, Richie barely being able to direct his weight so he wouldn’t land on top of her. Even before they could react to what had happened they heard Jacques almost evil laughter and lifted their heads up to look at the child that was bending over his stomach a few yards from them, his mouth wide open showing his cute little teeth. Then they looked at each other and burst out in laughter, turning to lay on their backs, side by side, arms across the stomach as the spasms of laughter overtook them.

Then Jacques spun on his heels and continued his run towards the winery. They laughed until their jaws hurt and then tried to recompose themselves while they heard Jacques' little voice in the distance, speaking between laughs as he apparently told Alain what had just happened. Once their spasms receded, Richie took a deep breath and got up to take Frédérique’s hands and pull her up again and close to him. They both simultaneously remembered the first day they’d met and smiled, silently acknowledging the fact and feeling grateful for them crossing paths. 

“It'll be better if I don't let ya walk this time...", Richie informed her carelessly with a smirk and shaking his head that hung down. "...Or Lord knows in how many piece I'll have to take you back to the US”, he finished with a chuckle as he positioned himself with his back to her, bending over a little, placing supporting his upper body with one hand on his knee and patting his shoulder with the other.

Frédérique laughed hoarsely and asked. “Are you sure?”

Richie looked over his shoulder and asked her ironically with mock disappointment. “Whuh? Ya think I'm too old for that?"

Frédérique giggled and jumped on his back, then Richie immediately hooked his arms below her knees and stood straight up before starting walking towards the house. She encircled his broad shoulders with her arms, gave him a smooch on the neck and placed her cheek against his. “I don’t know”, she replied “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?”

“What's your guess?”, he teased her with a mischievous smirk.

“I’d say you’re...", she hummed to evidence her hesitation and then chuckled against his dimples, "...a horny eighteen-year-old”

Richie chortled huskily and replied with a grin as he turned his head back to meet her lips.

“That's exactly what I thought”

XLIX

Richie placed himself between Frédérique’s legs and she automatically flexed them slightly, tilting her feet down by the ankles so the soles rested flat on the mattress. He placed his forearms on each side of her so he could clasp her head with both hands, supporting his weight on his elbows to avoid crushing her. As Frédérique scrapped Richie’s sides up and down with her fingertips, goose-bumps formed on his skin. She was warm and Richie was intoxicated by the sweet scent oozing from her body. He reached for that place where it concentrated the most: just behind and below her ear. And she tasted. So good. Richie hummed with delight as his lips, tongue and teeth were hard at work sending waves of desire to his brain.

Then his mouth moved to hers and did the same with her sweet luscious lips, he tilted his head to one side to gain deeper access and press harder against her mouth. At one point he broke the kiss with a loud sucking noise when he realized he wasn’t allowing her to breathe. He looked into her now green eyes, her cheeks were bright pink and her swollen, moist lips were dark red. No, he couldn't love her more - he felt so in love with her it was surreal.

“Bonjour, my love”, he said with a little smile and placed a soft, sweet kiss on her lips.

She chuckled softly at his greeting and replied the same way. “Bonjour, mon chéri, that was inc-“

“I ain’t done with ya yet”, he interrupted her with a lustful smirk.

“Hmmm, there’s an encore?” she whimpered as he went back to devour her neck.

He breathed out sharply in amusement at her choice of words and whispered against her skin. “Any requests?”.

She moaned with expectation. “Am I too greedy if I want to feel you inside me, too?”, she asked seductively.

Richie was going to answer but instead he groaned when her hand slid into the space between their bodies and took his erection in her hand, placing and pressing the head against her warm, wet entrance. Then he slowly entered her, concentrating on the way her walls tightened around his shaft. When he couldn’t go any further in, he felt her hand push his abdomen and he conceded withdrawing for her, leaving only the head inside. She porceeded to encircle his cock again with her whole hand, while the other traveled to his ass as Richie let his face hover over hers, looking into her eyes through his damp fringe, lips parted and teeth clenched tightly - it was a good thing she was going to be the one taking control, for he wasn’t going to be able to last much longer if it was up to him: by the state of his arousal he was certain that it would only take two hard thrusts, if not only one, for him to come.

Frédérique pushed him to her, releasing the grip around his cock just enough to let it slide against her hand as he entered her again, but about a third of the way in, she again  pushed him back without letting the head out. Richie let out something that was a mixture of chuckle and moan. “You’re evil”, he spoke against her lips and she giggled, then told him seductively,  “You’re too delicious not to take full advantage of you”, at the same time as she took him in again, and Richie hissed through clenched teeth now that she allowed him to enter half way before pushing slowly back again. Richie felt like begging for mercy but she suddenly pressed harder and made him enter her completely. Her eyes rolled back with pleasure and her lips parted to gasp for air. This time she didn’t push him back and remained quiet, enjoying the feel of him inside her, pulling her head up just enough to meet Richie’s lips for a lingering, hungry kiss.

She held her grip of his butt, ordering for him no to move, and he felt how her inner walls pressed his shaft tighter as they kissed - she was showing him what his kisses provoked in her. The rest of his length that remained outside was taken care of by her thumb and index finger, stroking and encircling, making the skin of his shaft move separately from the hard tissue underneath. Bids of sweat ran down Richie's face as all his muscles tightened in order to contain his orgasm. But then Frédérique came, moaning throatily inside his mouth, and he couldn’t resist anymore, so he pulled completely out and plunged into her again before he gave himself in to utter orgasmic bliss, spilling warmly deep inside of her.

Both bodies still riding the aftershocks of their orgasms, they lay on their sides and cuddled until they regained control of their senses and their minds cleared again. Richie finally sighed and withdrew his still partially partial erection from insider her.

“We should do something to get out of this bed soon or I might never leave it”, he whispered huskily and lazily without opening his eyes.

Frédérique chuckled softly: “I think it likes you”

Richie let out a sound chuckle when he remembered what he’d unconsciously done while he was kneeling by the side of the bed and Frédérique’s orgasm had come. “Maybe ‘cause it got some luvin’, too”. He told her how he had unconsciously bumped against the side of the mattress and she laughed hoarsely against his chest, unable to contain soft spasms of laughter.

"You know, after this I may have an orgasm every time I see your lips around that talkbox again”, she added between giggles.

Richie crooked a mischievous smirk “Alright", he sighed with mock disappointment, "now I guess I’ll have to think of something to hide my hard-on when I do it, then”.

They kissed and snuggled for a few additional moments, then Frédérique sighed when she began to become aroused again. “We should do something to get out of this bed. Soon”, she chuckled and sat on the bed, allowing a couple of moments to adjust her head to the new position before jumping off and heading for the bathroom.

Richie now lay on his back, still across the bed, and folded his arms behind his head. He knew he was good at fucking, and making love, too, but with her it was just sublime and blissful. He had done a lot – A LOT – of kinky crazy stuff in the past, but he didn’t need them now: when he was with her, just having her body to touch and make love to was good enough for him. He couldn’t ask for anything more. Well, maybe he was thinking about a couple of kinky ideas as his dick throbbed again, but he jumped when he heard a knock on the door.

He sat on the bed and debated with himself whether he should get it or no. He waited: it wasn’t followed by another one, but he decided to check anyway, so he got up and took the sweatpants he had peeled off before getting into bed again and put them back on. He raked his hands through his still slightly damp hair but his shags became upset at the attempt of taming and stuck out rebelliously in all directions. As he walked toward the door he heard Frédérique walk out of the bathroom so he turned his head toward her, watching as she took her kimono from the floor and put it on, tying the belt tightly around her waist. “That’s mom with breakfast” she explained excitedly and walked past him. She opened the door, bent down to take the tray from the floor and stood up again while she spoke in French with someone on the corridor. By the voice and the fact that he understood when Frédérique said “Merci, mamá”, he confirmed what Frédérique had told him. She kicked the door closed with her heel, holding the tray with both her hands. “She’s done this since forever”, she told him with a smile as she walked past him. “But I don’t think she’s ready to be pointed at with that”, she giggled as she signaled with her head and eyes the bulge in Richie’s pants.

Richie chortled and observed her as she walked toward the bed, shaking her butt to some song in her head as she walked: she looked so radiant, so happy, like she had been before he'd let his lips loose on national television. He shook this thought off, everything was in the right place now, and reminded himself not to look back. Richie smirked with satisfaction when she started humming the song as she walked towards the tall window to look outside, still shaking her butt and slightly raising her arms up in the air. “Down, down, down... I wanna take you… down, down, down”.

He walked over and stood behind her, his hands snaking around her waist, pushing her hair aside with his nose and kissing her neck, then chuckling against it when she started singing it louder. “Let me take you down to the river of love...". Swaying her hips, she raised her arms and flexed them to brush the back of his head with her hands, then started snaking down while she sang to the music between laughs. He let his hands hover over the fabric of her kimono as she moved up and down and couldn’t help but  laugh and giggle. When she sang “To make you feel like a woman, makes me feel like a man”. He pulled her tightly to him and she laughed hoarsely, lowering her arms to let her hands rest on his forearms. She stopped her singing when he spoke with a deep voice against her ear. “I believe that’s my part”.

She giggled again and turned her head to kiss him deeply for a few moments, their bodies bathed by the sun coming from the window. Richie sighed – Frédérique just soothed his soul. “You’re so good for me, babe”, he confessed.

“I’m so happy that you’re here, with me.” Frédérique told him in reply.

He looked outside over the vineyard. “Whadda ya say we take a bath and you give me a tour around the vineyard? I haven’t seen any of it yet”, Richie suggested.

“That sounds perfect”, she smiled excitedly before giving him a smooch. “But first I might need juuuuust one cup of coffee”.

"Let me get it for ya", he offered with a warm smile and a kiss, patting her butt and walking toward the tray to pour two cups of coffee, hers with three full spoons of sugar.

XLVIII

She proceeded to tell Richie how the rest of the party had gone as they ate the rest of the wedding cake and drank from their glasses of champagne, Frédérique interrupting her narration at one time to lick a bit of topping that had stuck to the corner of Richie’s lips. Once done and teeth brushed, they resumed their position on the armchair and Frédérique huddled against Richie’s chest. They remained silent for a while, indulging in the deliciously comfortable sensation. She then lifted her face and he kissed her deeply, their tongues slowly pressing against each other. His hand snaked to the knot of her kimono and he finished loosening it, before gently breaking the kiss to regard her sexy attire. They locked loving eyes and he splayed his hand on her chest under the collarbone, then it tripped down to the valley between her breasts, over one breast to softly squeeze it, then down to her stomach, stopping on her lower abdomen. Frédérique unconsciously held her breath and looked down in the direction of his hand. Richie froze and after a few moments of silence, she answered his unspoken question with a whisper.

“It’s a severe case of endometreousis”, she explained calmly, still looking down. “It means that my chances of ever getting pregnant are very, very low”, she paused and swallowed while Richie kept quiet and listened, “And if I do, the chances of me not being able to hold the pregnancy are very, very high”.

He took his hand from her stomach and used it to delicately cup her face, tilting it up so his eyes met her teary ones. He hunched his back and lowered his head to place a soft kiss on her lips and speak against them with a heartfelt whisper. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t care as long as I got you?”.

Frédérique smiled in spite of herself and placed her hand on the nape of his neck, twisting the dark tresses around her index finger. “But you must know, I needed to tell you this”.

Richie sighed to release the sadness that overtook him, not because of his own expectations, but because of all the pain this had caused her in the past. He moved his hand and threaded his fingers with the hair behind her neck, leaning back and taking her with him so her head rested on his bare shoulder. He squeezed her and kissed her forehead. “Let’s not worry about it, yet, babe. There’s no hurry. Later in the future if we decide to do it I’m sure there’s a way of-”, he cooed his reassurance but frowned slightly when she interrupted him with a grave tone.

“You don’t understand, Richie”, her voice was still calm and low, “I once tried and I did get pregnant, but it didn’t work”. She swallowed again. “In the end…it just didn’t work, it only…hurt”.

Richie felt a thick lump in his throat and tensed at his impotence from being able to protect her from such pain. But there was still something he could do: from now on, he’d do everything in his power to make it up to her, to make her happy in every way possible, spoil her, love her, hold her, kiss her, make love to her. “I love you, Fred”, he reminded her firmly and pressed his lips against her forehead. He held her tight for long minutes, without removing his lips from the spot on her forehead, until he felt her sigh deeply and melt in his arms. Her hand stopped playing with his hair and slowly slipped down over his chest – she had fallen asleep.

Richie took the hand that was buried in her hair and slid his arm under her legs to scoop her in his arms, but she jerked awake. “Let’s go to bed”, she commanded with a sleepy voice and a weak smile, turned off the foot lamp and swiftly stood up before Richie was able to complete his action. She wobbled when a rush of dizziness overtook her from standing up so quickly and in an instant Richie had stood up and had her grabbed by the arms, pinning them to her sides. He looked down and her eyes focused on some point between his pecs. They both realized what position they were in, once again. But this time it was different: Frédérique lifted her face to meet Richie’s eyes and confessed wide-eyed and in a firm tone.

“I love you, Richie. So much”.

Richie’s heart skipped a beat. He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. Then he eased her kimono off her shoulders until it fell to the floor, scooped her up and took a few steps to gently lay her on the bed. They both crawled under the sheets and lay on their sides so they faced each other pressing their foreheads together, Frédérique folding her arms and tucking them in the space between her chest and Richie’s, Richie surrounding her tightly with both arms, their legs entangled. Short moments afterwards, Frédérique was asleep again.

Richie, however, remained wide awake, inhaling her warm, soft exhalations. The heaviness in his heart started to slowly vanish and Richie felt at peace. With his past, with everything that had happened: no matter how much pain they both had experienced before they met each other or after, whatever bad and good choices they had made through their lives or while they were miles and worlds apart, everything had led them to that moment. Yes, it was all good in the end. He felt focused, strong and loved. This was right. It felt right. So right.

He remained with his eyes closed waiting for dawn to come - he didn’t want to leave her side. At around 3 a.m., however, another muse called him, and he knew that when she did, he’d better answer. He smelled Frédérique’s hair as though by doing so he’d take her with him, brushed her lips with his and got up, took his guitar from its case, the notebook that contained the unfinished songs he’d written for her and a pencil, entered the bathroom and closed the door.

…

Frédérique became awake when a ray of sun hit her eyelids. She slowly battered them and found Richie gone, but noticed the bathroom door closed. The bright daylight was killing her but she was too lazy to get up and close the curtains back, so she closed her eyes again. It was rather warm so she pulled the sheets aside, lay on her stomach, put a pillow over her head and tucked her folded arms beneath her, flexing one of her legs flat over the mattress. She heard the bathroom door open and a few moments later, Richie’s warm breath on her ankle. She smiled and, pulling her arms from underneath her, removed the pillow, opened her eyes and attempted to roll over, but Richie whispered his command against her calf.

“Don’t”

That thick, lustful voice of his again made every cell in her body tickle. She closed her eyes again and whimpered softly in delight as his nose brushed up and down her calf. His lips soon joined, leaving little soft kisses on their way up. His hand tended to the flexed leg, pressing slightly, the thumb brushing persistently. By the time his path of kisses had arrived at the back of her knee, his lips parted just enough to let the tip of his tongue out, which softly licked her skin. Then his lips nipped at it, leaving a slightly moist ghost that quickly disappeared as soon as he concentrated on another spot. Once on her thigh, his lips slightly sucked and his teeth grazed, goose-bumps formed on her skin when Richie’s fringe brushed against it. His breath was warmer now, and his breathing was faster and sharper. Frédérique’s pulse raced in anticipation and she felt her clit throb, her inner walls dampen. She couldn’t help but part her lips and let out a little whimper when she felt his half rigid cock brush past her feet.

Moving up, with his nose, Richie pushed the edge of the teddy slightly up to allow his tongue to travel along the base of her butt-cheek. Richie’s kisses stopped afterwards and she felt him tug her flexed leg from the ankle to straighten it, then the mattress on her sides sank down as he placed his knees on each side of her hips. She quivered slightly when a wave of arousal ran through her veins, producing a sting on her clit. His hot breath on her cheek startled her. His lips pressed hard against it, licking just a little bit, then moved to the corner of her mouth and did the same, the tip of his tongue now slightly lifting her lip so he could suck on it softly. She pouted in response.

“Be a good girl and don’t move”, he purred as he moved her hair to one side in order to expose her back, purposely brushing her skin with the tip of his finger. She conceded with a soft hum: by this time she was clay in his hands. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists and gently extended her arms so they lay along her sides, then he pressed his hands on her flesh as they traveled all the way up to her shoulders, where his fingers hooked the thin silk straps of her teddy and slid them off her shoulders. He pulled them along her arms, brushing her skin with the back of his fingers, the soft, delicate fabric offering absolutely no resistance when he pulled slightly harder to free the front from under Frédérique’s body.

When her back was completely uncovered and the straps were released from her wrists, Richie grabbed her waist with both splayed hands, allowing them to travel slowly up, his long thin fingers stroking her ribs and then the sides of her breasts. He seemed to be determined to cover every inch of her skin with his touch. Frédérique’s entire body pulsed and her cheeks were burning, the only thought that came to her mind was the certainty that she had never felt so much pleasure. Once his hands were on her shoulder blades, Richie pressed his thumbs on each side of the track of her spine and then placed a hot, moist kiss on the base of her neck.

He moved again without removing his hands from their position and now his knees were on each side of hers. A kiss was placed in the space between his thumbs before he started moving them down, his lips following them on the track of her spine. When the trail of kisses arrived at the base, his weight changed entirely to one of Frédérique’s side as he sat on his heels to peel the rest of the teddy over her ass and then along her legs until he eased it over her feet without allowing the back of his hands to part from her skin. She heard him growl throatily after he had left her completely naked. When he got off the bed she frowned slightly, but the expectation only turned her arousal up a notch.

Soon she felt his hands on her hips as he motioned for her to roll over and lay on her back. She kept her eyes closed and let out a little gasp when he hooked her knees, turned her so she lay across the bed and pulled her to him until her hips were on the edge of the bed. Her arms were now stretched on the bed, abover her head, along with her hair. She finally opened her eyes but got blinded by the sun coming from the window, and could only see Richie’s silhouette, kneeling by the side of the bed, kissing her inner thighs up and down, making sure each of them got the same amount of attention from his lips, as he held them up over his shoulders with his muscular arms.

Frédérique closed her eyes again when she started shuddering and panting raggedly, her muscles already contracting rhythmically almost as a reflex. She managed to clutch the bed sheets and her jaw clenched, a grunt escaping her throat when Richie’s tongue started flicking her clit, his lips sucking and nipping all around it. His hands around her thighs held a tight grip, but he removed them when she placed her feet on each of his shoulders, which caused her hips to buck up against Richie’s lips. The groans coming from his throat resonated inside her and his breath in quick pants burnt her skin. His tongue became more and more demanding now, and his lips sucked harder as his hands traveled up over her hips, waist, ribs and finally rested on each of her breasts, working the nipples with his thumb and index finger.

When Richie stuck his tongue inside her, licking and thoroughly stroking her inner walls with it, Frédérique’s pleasure increased exponentially. She arched her back, raising herself in her arms, and let her head fall back, whimpering gutturally at the rhythm of Richie’s ministrations. All her muscles became tense, she curled her toes and her orgasm exploded all over her body in violent spasms that Richie tried to contain by grabbing her hips tighter, not allowing his tongue to give up until she had become completely limp and dropped on the bed, her whole body pulsing and shuddering.

A couple of additional little orgasms ran through her body during the course of the following minute and her mind became a pool of thick, blissful pleasure. Then Richie pushed her further towards the center of the bed by putting his hands under her arms before resting his hot, sweaty body on top of hers.

XLVII

Richie woke up when a soft , thin fabric brushed his cheek, but kept his eyes closed and moaned softly: he felt so relaxed and comfortable that he wanted to take pleasure in his sensations for as long as possible. A soft, warm breeze that carried a faint mixture of fragrances from the different flowers in the garden called his attention and he frowned: this wasn’t just another hotel room in an undetermined city. He opened his eyelids half way and his lips formed a lazy smirk when he recognized Frédérique’s bedroom, dimly lit by a foot lamp that stood next to a white Berger style armchair on which rested his brown velvet jacket.

He rolled over to look for her on the bed but she wasn’t there, and by the untouched state of the sheets on the other side of the bed, she hadn’t been there before, either. How come? He frowned with confusion: Richie’s internal clock was telling him that it was a brand new morning, so he raised himself in his arms and looked at the window but the white black-out curtains didn’t provide any information as to what time of day it was. He continued to look around for more evidence: the last time he’d seen his jacket it hung on the back of the chair where he was sitting during lunch, he could also see that the towel he had dropped on the floor before getting into bed wasn’t there anymore, and finally noticed that on the dark wood coffee table by the armchair, lay a tray with different sizes of stainless steel bells covering different plates. On the table there was also a bucket from which the golden foiled neck of a champagne bottle stuck out, napkins, cutlery, flute glasses and also some small bottles of water.

Richie finally sat on the edge of the bed and took a few more moments before pulling to one side a delicate see-through fabric that fell from the crossbar of the four-post bed and getting up to walk toward the tall window. Inserting his hand in the crack between the two halves of the curtain, he pulled one to the side with the back of his hand and peaked through the open window: it was the dead of the night. Downstairs in the garden, the tents and arrangements for the wedding had been dismantled, the only remaining evidence of the party that had taken place there were some men who were loading piles of chairs into the back of a truck. He turned on his heels and drank a whole bottle of water before walking over to his suitcase, taking a pair of thin black sweatpants and putting them on.

Then he went to the bathroom and only after he came out, now that he was more decently attired, he fully opened the curtains to allow the warm and scented night air to flow freely into the bedroom. He stood there as he pondered his day – how only the slightest possibility of getting Frédérique back had led him to Bordeaux, feeling pretty unsure of the effectiveness of the plan: little did he know how much bliss he’d be feeling by the time the day came to an end. His thoughts were interrupted by a rumble in his stomach so he turned to the armchair, sat on it and took the bell from over one of the plates uncovering different varieties of amouse bouche, caviar, crackers, assorted cheeses and a bowl of salad with arugula, flakes of parmigian cheese, dried tomatoes and almonds. Another plate contained grilled foie gras on top of a pillow of sautéed green vegetables and a smaller one, a big slice of wedding cake. Sweet woman. She really new how to spoil him. In so many ways. But even more than that, he liked to spoil her, and couldn’t wait until he had the opportunity to do so.

He took a clean plate and put a little bit of everything in it, then sat back and lazily enjoyed the delicious food, while he contemplated the room he was in: except for the primary colors, Richie usually struggled to differentiate one color from the other, specially when there was artificial lighting involved, but he could tell that the walls were kind of purple, or a wild berries and cream kind of color. The furniture was in its totality dark wood, including the four-post bed, and the woodwork itself was stunning. All the fabrics – the armchairs’, the linens’, the pillows’, the cushions' - were white and looked expensive. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling over the round carpet between the foot of the bed and the vanity on the opposite wall. The bedroom looked lavish and luxurious, bearing little resemblance to the one in New York, but in a way it was just like her, too, only another side of her. Yes, she was like a fine white wine: a pure, simple substance in appearance that only once tasted became a sublime experience.

Richie’s heart swelled with love for Frédérique and he started becoming anxious that there was still no sign of her, so he reached for his phone inside the pocket of his jacket to look at the time – it changed to local time automatically - and text her, but got distracted by the number of missed calls and text messages that the screen was indicating. One was from his daughter inquiring if he had arrived safely and sending him good wishes that everything turned out well for him and Frédérique - he had told her he was traveling to France to try to get Frédérique back. Richie took his hand to his forehead, cursing himself for having completely forgotten to text her as soon as he had arrived at the airport. He phoned her and they talked for a little while as he continued eating, but she was going out to the cinema with her friends so they hung up promising they’d talk the following day. Then there were a couple of random messages from friends and some from Nikki, all of which he didn't read and completely ignored. He did take notice of Jon’s calls and text messages – Richie had kept Jon in the dark about him and Frédérique resuming contact, but Jon, of course had noticed something was brewing concerning that subject because he had informed Richie through subtle hints. Richie grinned devilishly as he read Jon’s messages. I bet you didn’t see this one coming. 

6.02 p.m. – Missed call “Jon”

6.05 p.m. – Text message from Jon “Answer back, goddamnit”

6.48 p.m. – Missed call “Jon”

6.51 p.m. – Text message from Jon “So?”

7.17 p.m. – Missed call “Jon”

7.22 p.m. – Text message from Jon “You’d better not be gettin’ yourself into trouble”

9.32 p.m. – Missed call “Jon”

9.37 p.m. – Text message from Jon “OK, now I’m worried, asshole”.

He wrote him a message. “In France J. DO NOT DISTURB”

Richie was planning to seclude himself in California until the following leg of the tour, so his assistant had cleared his East coast agenda. The West coast one, however, was -  though not packed -  abundant in activities and commitments here and there, so she complained a little when Richie contacted her while he waited at the airport to clear this following week, too, and leave the rest on stand by upon confirmation - in case things worked out right with Frédérique he would kidnap her and take her to some godforsaken place and have her all to himself.

As all kinds of erotic and blissful images flashed through his mind, the door slowly opened and the main character of his daydreaming tiptoed into the bedroom, her cheeks still pink from a hot shower, her hair loose and back to its slightly wavy nature, falling over each of her breasts. A loose knot in the belt of her light gray satin short kimono made it possible for the blue, loose silk teddy underneath to be partially revealed. Her feet were bare. She smiled widely with tired eyes when she saw Richie sitting on the armchair.

“Lord have mercy”, Richie took his hand to his heart while with the other he still held the almost empty plate with the fork on it. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, baby”.

“I showered in my parent’s room, I didn’t want to wake you up”, she told him with a warm smile while she walked towards him and he put the plate back on the coffee table, sitting further back on the chair and spreading his legs wider. “I had to keep myself from raping you…”, she lowered her voice as he tugged her arm so she sat between his legs, across his lap and her legs resting over the armrest of the armchair. “…you looked so yummy sleeping when I came back after the party was over”. She pushed both corners of his lips together with her thumb and index finger and gave him a loud smooch.

Richie hummed and his voice was thick and throaty when he told her, arching an eyebrow “I can fake sleep really good, ya know”. Then he imitated on her lips what she’d done with his.

…

Meanwhile, back in New Jersey, Jon’s lips tightened in a smile and he let out a puff of air through his nostrils, nodding so that his bangs fell over his eyes when he read Richie’s message. Sonofabitch. He had noticed Richie was up to something because during the last show he was more inspired than he’d been the past weeks. Not randomly inspired – Frédérique inspired. But he didn’t see this one coming. Hell no. So he’d gotten her back, and Jon couldn’t be happier for his friend, his brother, his “right-hand man”. Whatever had happened that had gotten those two back together, Jon was thankful for it, and he sighed with relief shortly before another realization sank in – Frédérique was back in his life, too, and he was also thankful for it, but now she was Richie’s. Like she had always been. Except for that night. He’d always be attracted to her, there was no way around it - she was delightful in every way - like a good white wine. But he was a strong man. Yes, he’d deal with it.

Time to behave, buddy.

…

“I can’t believe I missed the rest of the party” Richie said with resignation after pulling apart from the kiss and releasing her lips. Frédérique grabbed the plate with the wedding cake, took a piece of it with the fork and offered it to Richie. “Ever the gentleman the ‘rockstar’”, he quoted with his fingers before taking the fork into his mouth.

She shook her head and smiled tightly “Except for mamá we all travel a lot, we know a thing or two about jetlag”. She ate a little bit of the cake herself and continued carelessly, tilting her head from left to right emphasising her words. “Besides, I told them you liked to call yourself a cowboy: come to town, drink the wine, eat the food, ravish the women and then leave”.

Richie chortled throatily when he heard the lines he had used in more than one interview in Frédérique’s lips. “But I’m not planning on leaving soon”, he clarified as he lazily brushed the tip of his fingers down her thigh, lingering under the lacey edge of the teddy and drawing small circles on the satiny skin. His other arm surrounded her shoulders.

“Um…planning on it or not, WE are leaving. Tomorrow. I've already bought the plane tickets” she informed him excitedly, and realizing it was past midnight she added. “Well, today actually. We need to be at the airport by 3 p.m.”. She saw the flicker of disappointment in Richie’s eyes and quickly added patiently while she ran her fingers through his fringe to pull it to one side. “I’m supposed to get back to work on Tuesday”.

He recalled the conversation they had had the morning after they first were together. “I can kidnap you now, no problem”, he pouted and shrugged carelessly trying to keep a serious expression, “Your bosses will never know what happened to you”. Frédérique laughed out loud throatily, throwing her head back. In an instant Richie joined her – her laughter was too contagious. She pulled her head back up and shook it as she smiled. “As tempting as the idea is...I’d be miserable if I couldn't work”. Richie saw how a slight hint of melancholy flashed through her eyes. Yes, she loved her job, it was as much a part of herself as her hands and her eyes were: she wouldn’t be complete without it, so Richie didn’t pursue the matter. She added, tilting her head to one side “But I promise I’ll let you kidnap me some time soon, OK?”. How could he resist that look she gave him?. Richie chuckled softly and nodded as a little smile formed dimples on his cheeks. “Be damn sure I’ll hold ya to that”, he finished as he hugged her close to him and placed a kiss on her cheek, then another one on the corner of her mouth.