“Come ON already, man,” Obie said to his friend. “What the hell are you dragging your feet for? You owe Richie.”
“Fuck you, Obe, I was drunk,” Jon said irritably. He stopped just outside the door. “Bets lost while intoxicated shouldn’t count.”
“What, are you in fucking grade school? Man up already. It’s not going to kill you to get out of the damned studio for an hour or two.”
“What about – ” Jon started to ask about Richie, but Obie cut him off.
“Listen, you’re the one being the pain in the ass, not him. You know it. I know it. Richie knows it.” He grinned widely. “Why do you think that he picked tonight to cash in the bet?”
“Because he’s an asshole?” Jon practically growled at Obie.
“Oh come on,” Obie retorted. “You sound like you’re whining and pouting, Diva.”
Jon’s blue eyes turned steely with ire. “You know I hate that fucking nickname, Jetson.”
Obie just laughed at the Bongiovi glare, and the nickname that’d followed him around for more years than he cared to mention. “Yeah, yeah, why do you think I used it? You’re acting like a fucking whiny, first-class prima donna. Besides, you owe Rich. And it’s going to drive him crazy that he didn’t come with you.”
“And how do you figure that?”
“She’s going to be there.”
“She who? And what does some girl have to do with anything?”
“Jesus man, you must have been six kinds of drunk. Don’t you even remember what the bet was about?”
Jon frowned, thinking back. He seemed to recall it was just after Christmas, and the guys were all relaxing and unwinding after spending the holidays with assorted kids and exes. It never got any easier, but none of the guys would trade their time with their kids for anything – even if it meant dealing with their pains-in-the-ass ex wives. He remembered something about porn....
They were shooting pool at Jon’s place, and Richie was telling them about Heather’s latest tirade. Seems that she still had Google Alerts set for her and her very ex-husband, and was mortified at some of the things that popped.
Dirty things.
Porny things.
Wonderfully dirty, porny things.
Richie was in hysterics over his ex-wife’s vanity, and tears of mirth rolled down his face as he tried to describe her jealous huff about some random woman or two who wrote (by their accounts) fictional stories about him. She was particularly irritated that one writer, who called herself The Goddess Hathor, seemed to have enough details right, that Heather was convinced that this girl was one of Richie’s past conquests telling tales out of school.
“Man, you should have seen her,” Richie said, cackling. “I swear, you’d think we were still married and she fucking caught me in bed with this girl. It’s fucking fake for Christ’s sake.”
Jon had just raised an eyebrow, and taken a slug of his third whiskey of the evening. “You mean to tell me you read that shit?”
“Oh hell yeah, and a whole bunch more besides. The girl, uh, Hath, has a whole website dedicated to what she calls ‘Bon Jovi Fan Fiction’. It’s a big fucking list of stories, and they’re all just PORN. Man, some of it’s out there, but some of it’s pretty good. Quite a few women write about you too, bro.”
“’Hath’?” Tico asked. “What kind of name is that?”
Richie shrugged. “A nickname. She goes by ‘The Goddess Hathor’ online.”
David laughed. “You gave her a nickname, and you don’t even know her?”
Richie smiled. “Oh I know her,” he said. “At least as much as she knows me. This stuff is pretty revealing. And besides, all her online readers call her that.”
“You’re pathetic,” Jon said, rolling his eyes, finishing off his drink. There had been no shortage of actual, live women in his best friend’s life since his split with Heather, so for the life of him, Jon couldn’t figure out why Richie was wasting his time. And this wasn’t the first time Richie’d brought up the subject. Whenever he did, Jon closed him down quickly. He had absolutely NO interest in reading more about himself. He had enough to deal with from the real press and the paparazzi without worrying about some fake porno stories that were out there. He went to the bar to refill his highball glass.
“Nah man, I’m not pathetic, just horny,” Richie laughed. He looked over at David. “Hey, D, she has a story about you, too. A long one. T, there are some links for stories about you out there, too.” Richie hadn’t mentioned it before, because it drove Jon nuts. But tonight, Jon was three sheets to the wind, and it was fun to poke at him when he was like that. Richie knew damn well that David and Tico would pick up the gauntlet and help drive Jon bat shit.
They didn’t disappoint.
“Yeah?” David said, his interest piqued. “My story any good?”
“What about mine?” Tico asked, intrigued.
Richie threw empty water bottle at David’s head. “Like I’d read porn about either you. Like I really want images of you assholes naked in my head.” He shivered. “No fucking thanks.”
“Fuck you,” David said good-naturedly.
“You’re just jealous,” Tico said, bursting into laughter. “You know the ladies like a Latin lover…”
David laughed. “Nah, he’s afraid. Worried that he’d figure out he wasn’t the shit after all. Thinks he owns the market. Well guess again buddy.” He threw the water bottle Richie had flipped at him back. “I guess SOME women have good taste if they’re writing about me.”
“I’m jealous and afraid? Of what? You two idiots? Not fucking likely.” Richie laughed when both Teek and David flipped him off, then he turned back to Jon. “Seriously, man, you should relax a little, and this shit will make you relax.” Richie’s eyebrows waggled. “Reeeeeeally relax.”
“Oh yeah, like that’s gonna happen.” Jon knocked back the rest of his drink and went to pour another.
“It’ll be better for you than that whiskey you’re pickling yourself with.” Richie frowned at his friend. He’d been hitting the bottle hard lately.
“Fuck you, bro,” Jon said without heat.
“No thanks,” Richie answered automatically. “Now these porn writers... that’s a whole different story. I’d bet it’d be fun to fuck one of them. Hell, it’d probably be fun to fuck the whole lot of them.” Richie’s eyes focused on something in the distance only he could see. “I wonder if they’re as adventurous in real life as they are in their stories.”
“Jesus, drop it already.” Jon had had just about enough of this topic of conversation.
“You’re a fucking prude,” Richie said. “I’ll bet you that once you start reading that ‘shit’, as you call it, you’ll get hooked on it.”
“No way,” Jon answered, shaking his head. The side-to-side motion left him a little dizzy, and he gripped the bar for support.
“Yes way,” Richie said. He hitched his chin at Jon. “You too much of a pussy to take a bet?”
“What’s the bet?”
“You read one of the stories. Of my choosing. If you don’t like it, and man, I can tell if you’re lying, I’ll come to the studio early all month next month without complaining. And you know what a fucking win that would be for you.”
“And if by some miracle you should win the bet?”
“Oh I’ll win,” Richie said confidently. “When I win, I get to kick you out of the studio when I’m good and pissed at you, and get to choose your blow-off-steam activity.” He held up a hand when Jon looked like he wanted to argue. “Standard rules apply.”
Over the years, they had come up with a list of six immutable, non-negotiable rules for lost bets; just to make sure things didn’t get too far out of control.
“All I have to do is read the story?”
Richie laughed. “That’s all you have to do, but not all you will do. Believe me.”
Jon looked at Obie. “And I did it?”
Obie laughed. “To hear Richie tell it, you not only read whatever it was that he picked out, but you stayed locked in your office for HOURS in front of your computer.”
“Fuck,” Jon swore.
“So man up and get your ass in there.”
Jon thought for a moment. “So I still don’t understand; who’s the ‘she’ that Rich is gonna be sorry he missed?”
Obie smiled. “The woman who wrote the story Rich pointed you at.”
Jon rolled is eyes. “God, he’s an idiot. And just how do you know that the porn girl is even going to be in there?” He still couldn’t believe he was actually considering this. It would have been much easier just to buy Richie a boat or a car or something.
“She emailed me.”
Jon laughed. “The fuck she did. She did not email you.”
“Oh yes she did,” Obie confirmed. “Sent me an invitation to come join a bunch of ‘fans from around the world’ she said, for drinks and crab fries. On her. She didn’t even invite you losers, just me. I’ve read some of her shit, and am intrigued.” Obie chuckled. “It would appear that she knows all of you quite well. She also thinks she’s escaped our radar.”
“She should have escaped your radar,” Jon said, sighing. “I don’t believe you have time for that shit. Obviously I’m not working you hard enough. Alright, I guess we should get this over with,” Jon said petulantly.
“That’s the spirit!” Obie said, cheerfully.
“Fuck.”
Jon donned his sunglasses and they strode through the front door of Chickie’s and Pete’s. The hostess gawped at them and couldn’t get her welcome line out. Obie smiled at her. “We’re here for the private party. Don’t worry, we know the way.” He winked at the girl and led Jon toward the back of the restaurant.
Jon stopped dead when he heard a roomful of women belting out one of his songs to the in-house sound system.
Whoa, we’re halfway there….Whoa-OA, LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER
“Oh fuck no,” Jon said. “Anything but that.”
Obie just grabbed Jon’s arm and propelled him to the door. “Do not make me drag your ass in there,” he said to Jon. “Put on your smile, find your balls, and let’s go, and for fuck’s sake, take off those pretentious sunglasses.”
Jon punched Obie in the arm, but stowed his shades in the breast pocket of his shirt, and put a hand to the door handle. “Here goes nothing,” he said. As he pulled, he heard a soft scream and instinctively put out his arms to catch something that was falling from the other side. He was surprised to find himself looking into the face of a beautiful blonde.
“Well hello there,” he said with a smile.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Cheryl was trying to have a good time, she really was. She had been looking forward to this get together since Christmas, when she had planned it with her friends Samantha and Hath. Looking around the room, she smiled to herself. A good 50 women, and one lone husband, were joined in the name of the Bon Jovi Sisterhood. They came from everywhere... from as far away as Australia and as close by as South Philly. Hath said she had even gotten a ‘maybe’ from Obie.
The liquor was flowing, Charlie the bartender was seeing to that. The food was good, the company even better, so why was she feeling so melancholy? Before she could even finish the thought, she knew the reason.
”Where are you going all dressed up like that?” Bryan had demanded, barely glancing up from the hockey game he was watching on TV.
“I told you I had girlfriends coming in this week, right? They’re all settled at the beach house, and we’re meeting for drinks tonight? Is any of this remotely familiar to you?” Cheryl fluffed her hair in the entryway mirror, and grabbed a soft, supple purple leather jacket from the closet. She settled it around her and grabbed her bag.
“Didn’t you just go out with these so-called friends the other night? You’re going out again?”
Stifling a sigh, she turned to her husband. “That’s different, B, the other night was a concert with a couple of girls. This is a party of sorts with a ton of other friends.” Cheryl turned back to the window and flipped the curtains back. Nope, the car wasn’t here yet. “I told you all about this weeks ago, don’t you remember?”
Bryan rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore her question. “Friends? You don’t even know these women. I hardly think they qualify as ‘friends’.”
Cheryl took a deep breath and prayed for patience. Again. “Look, we’ve had this discussion before. Just because I haven’t met all of them doesn’t mean –”
“I know, I know, you think you know them and that they’re your friends.”
“No, I DO know them, and they absolutely are my friends. They flew out here to visit, didn’t they?”
Cheryl was really tired of having this conversation with her husband.
“Whatever,” Bryan sneered. “I just don’t see why you give a shit what you look like to go hang with strangers.”
The only thing that saved Cheryl from lobbing something at his head was the fact that her friends’ husbands all thought the same way. It was some failing in the male chromosome that made them incapable of understanding the bonds of feminine friendship.
That, and the car had finally arrived.
Cheryl called out, “The car’s here; I’m going now; I’ll see you this weekend.”
Bryan didn’t even look up from the game.
She had to snap herself out of it. Her arguments with her husband had no place here. He didn’t understand why she felt the pull to spend time with these women. He didn’t understand that these women were truly her friends – they cared about her and knew her sometimes better than she knew herself. They had shared experiences and interests, even outside the world of Bon Jovi, and if they had met through something other than the shared love of this band, they still would have been friends.
Bryan had scoffed at her desire to dress up to ‘hang with strangers’ as he put it. Cheryl guessed that was as close to a compliment as he was capable of when he was in a mood. She looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She thought she looked damned good, if she did say so herself. Her purple print sundress dipped daringly low in the front, cinched in at her waist, and flowed to mid-calf. It looked like it was made for her body. The chunky jewelry she wore turned the dress from formal to playful, and her strappy shoes were impractical for February in Philly, but hell, they went PERFECTLY with the dress. Besides, they hadn’t had to walk more than 20 feet from the limo to the door.
Her husband could go fuck himself.
Cheryl got distracted from her annoyance when she heard the first strains of ‘Prayer’ come through the speakers. What could be more perfect than hanging at Chickie’s and Pete’s with Bon Jovi on the stereo? She chuckled to herself. “Hanging at Chickie’s and Pete’s with Bon Jovi,” she said under her breath. She sang her way through the first verse, but her heart wasn’t in it. Something was really wrong if Jovi couldn’t lift her mood.
Snagging another drink from Charlie, she downed it quickly before turning from the bar. She grabbed her purple clutch bag and peeked inside to make sure everything was in order. “I’m gonna get some air,” she said to Samantha. “I’ll be back.”
Cheryl tucked her bag under her arm and pushed through the door, but it was much lighter than she remembered. Or she was much stronger than she remembered. Either way, it took her by surprise, and she let out a little squeak. She found herself falling, and thought, “fan-fucking-tastic” at the idea of winding up in a heap on the floor, then found herself hitting something solid, yet softer than the hardwood she expected, and looked up into the bluest eyes on the face of the planet.
“Well hello there,” Jon said, smiling. “And who might you be?”
“Oh GOD, I’m so sorry,” Cheryl said, staring wide-eyed at Jon. She would have been mortified to have fallen into anybody’s arms, but HIS? She didn’t know whether to try to stand up or to fling herself backwards to the floor and make him tumble on top of her.
“Nice catch,” Obie said, laughing. “Are you Hath?” When Cheryl shook her head, Obie gave Jon a pointed look. “See you in there,” he said as he stepped over Cheryl’s long legs to join the party. “Where the hell is Hath?” he called out, as the door shut behind him.
Jon made no move to straighten up with the woman in his arms. She was draped over his forearm, clinging to his biceps to keep from falling backwards. Her chest was heaving in embarrassment, and a flush was creeping over the top of her breasts – breasts that were very nearly spilling out of her dress. In fact, if he shifted just a little...
But before Jon could put his subtle but pervy plan into action, Cheryl found her legs, and managed to get them under her. She straightened, and smoothed out imaginary wrinkles on her dress. “I am so sorry, but thank you for catching me.” She wanted to ask him what he was doing there, but he smiled at her, and all coherent thought fled.
“My pleasure, baby,” Jon answered, turning on the charm. He gave her a subtle once-over and smiled at her name tag. “’Willow’ is a very interesting name,” he said. “How’d you come by it?”
Cheryl turned red and stripped the tag from her dress. There was no way in hell he was going to get the whole truth on that one. “I wanted an anonymous name for the fan boards and chat rooms, and it’s an old nickname I dug out.”
“Is there a real name you want to share?” Jon’s smile was infectious, and Cheryl couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“There is a real name, but I think I’ll stick with ‘Willow’ until I’m sure I won’t embarrass myself any more.” She let out a nervous giggle, and fidgeted with the end of her hair. Realizing what she was doing, she dropped her hands, but had no idea where to put them.
Sensing her discomfort at the relative silence, Jon offered, “So, where you headed? Surely the party can’t be all that bad; karaoke aside.” He chuckled at Cheryl’s expression.
“Hell NO, you heard that?” She groaned and put her hands to her head as if staving off a headache. “Shoot me now,” she muttered under her breath.
Jon laughed. “Oh it wasn’t all that bad,” he said, his mood lightening. “So? Where were you headed before I swept you off your feet?”
Cheryl laughed softly. “I needed some air,” she said. “And a cigarette.” She hadn’t told her friends she had taken up the nervous habit again.
“Ah, a kindred spirit,” Jon said. “Mind if I join you?”
Cheryl just stared at him. “Uh, no, of course not,” she said. “I just have to find my...” she said, scanning the ground. “Bag,” she finished weakly. Of course her traitorous bag had landed smack in between Jon’s legs. “Uh, excuse me,” she said, hoping he’d take a step back so it didn’t look like she was going to service him right here in the bar. A few more drinks, and she wouldn’t care what it looked like, but she wasn’t there yet. She gulped when he didn’t move right away, and started to gracefully bend down to retrieve it.
Jon saw the bag at his feet at the same time Cheryl started to move. “No, I got it,” he said, as he too, bent to retrieve it.
They bumped foreheads. “Ow! Dammit!” Cheryl said, rubbing her forehead. She very nearly lost her balance, but Jon grabbed her arms at the last moment. She took one look at Jon and burst out laughing. “Oh God, could this night get any more strange?” she groaned.
Jon chuckled and helped Cheryl to her feet, handing her the clutch. “Here you go, Willow,” he said. “Now how about that smoke?”
“Oh hell yes,” she answered, digging into her purse for the slim case she kept there. She turned her back on Jon and quickly made her way through the room.
The liquor was flowing, Charlie the bartender was seeing to that. The food was good, the company even better, so why was she feeling so melancholy? Before she could even finish the thought, she knew the reason.
”Where are you going all dressed up like that?” Bryan had demanded, barely glancing up from the hockey game he was watching on TV.
“I told you I had girlfriends coming in this week, right? They’re all settled at the beach house, and we’re meeting for drinks tonight? Is any of this remotely familiar to you?” Cheryl fluffed her hair in the entryway mirror, and grabbed a soft, supple purple leather jacket from the closet. She settled it around her and grabbed her bag.
“Didn’t you just go out with these so-called friends the other night? You’re going out again?”
Stifling a sigh, she turned to her husband. “That’s different, B, the other night was a concert with a couple of girls. This is a party of sorts with a ton of other friends.” Cheryl turned back to the window and flipped the curtains back. Nope, the car wasn’t here yet. “I told you all about this weeks ago, don’t you remember?”
Bryan rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore her question. “Friends? You don’t even know these women. I hardly think they qualify as ‘friends’.”
Cheryl took a deep breath and prayed for patience. Again. “Look, we’ve had this discussion before. Just because I haven’t met all of them doesn’t mean –”
“I know, I know, you think you know them and that they’re your friends.”
“No, I DO know them, and they absolutely are my friends. They flew out here to visit, didn’t they?”
Cheryl was really tired of having this conversation with her husband.
“Whatever,” Bryan sneered. “I just don’t see why you give a shit what you look like to go hang with strangers.”
The only thing that saved Cheryl from lobbing something at his head was the fact that her friends’ husbands all thought the same way. It was some failing in the male chromosome that made them incapable of understanding the bonds of feminine friendship.
That, and the car had finally arrived.
Cheryl called out, “The car’s here; I’m going now; I’ll see you this weekend.”
Bryan didn’t even look up from the game.
She had to snap herself out of it. Her arguments with her husband had no place here. He didn’t understand why she felt the pull to spend time with these women. He didn’t understand that these women were truly her friends – they cared about her and knew her sometimes better than she knew herself. They had shared experiences and interests, even outside the world of Bon Jovi, and if they had met through something other than the shared love of this band, they still would have been friends.
Bryan had scoffed at her desire to dress up to ‘hang with strangers’ as he put it. Cheryl guessed that was as close to a compliment as he was capable of when he was in a mood. She looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She thought she looked damned good, if she did say so herself. Her purple print sundress dipped daringly low in the front, cinched in at her waist, and flowed to mid-calf. It looked like it was made for her body. The chunky jewelry she wore turned the dress from formal to playful, and her strappy shoes were impractical for February in Philly, but hell, they went PERFECTLY with the dress. Besides, they hadn’t had to walk more than 20 feet from the limo to the door.
Her husband could go fuck himself.
Cheryl got distracted from her annoyance when she heard the first strains of ‘Prayer’ come through the speakers. What could be more perfect than hanging at Chickie’s and Pete’s with Bon Jovi on the stereo? She chuckled to herself. “Hanging at Chickie’s and Pete’s with Bon Jovi,” she said under her breath. She sang her way through the first verse, but her heart wasn’t in it. Something was really wrong if Jovi couldn’t lift her mood.
Snagging another drink from Charlie, she downed it quickly before turning from the bar. She grabbed her purple clutch bag and peeked inside to make sure everything was in order. “I’m gonna get some air,” she said to Samantha. “I’ll be back.”
Cheryl tucked her bag under her arm and pushed through the door, but it was much lighter than she remembered. Or she was much stronger than she remembered. Either way, it took her by surprise, and she let out a little squeak. She found herself falling, and thought, “fan-fucking-tastic” at the idea of winding up in a heap on the floor, then found herself hitting something solid, yet softer than the hardwood she expected, and looked up into the bluest eyes on the face of the planet.
“Well hello there,” Jon said, smiling. “And who might you be?”
“Oh GOD, I’m so sorry,” Cheryl said, staring wide-eyed at Jon. She would have been mortified to have fallen into anybody’s arms, but HIS? She didn’t know whether to try to stand up or to fling herself backwards to the floor and make him tumble on top of her.
“Nice catch,” Obie said, laughing. “Are you Hath?” When Cheryl shook her head, Obie gave Jon a pointed look. “See you in there,” he said as he stepped over Cheryl’s long legs to join the party. “Where the hell is Hath?” he called out, as the door shut behind him.
Jon made no move to straighten up with the woman in his arms. She was draped over his forearm, clinging to his biceps to keep from falling backwards. Her chest was heaving in embarrassment, and a flush was creeping over the top of her breasts – breasts that were very nearly spilling out of her dress. In fact, if he shifted just a little...
But before Jon could put his subtle but pervy plan into action, Cheryl found her legs, and managed to get them under her. She straightened, and smoothed out imaginary wrinkles on her dress. “I am so sorry, but thank you for catching me.” She wanted to ask him what he was doing there, but he smiled at her, and all coherent thought fled.
“My pleasure, baby,” Jon answered, turning on the charm. He gave her a subtle once-over and smiled at her name tag. “’Willow’ is a very interesting name,” he said. “How’d you come by it?”
Cheryl turned red and stripped the tag from her dress. There was no way in hell he was going to get the whole truth on that one. “I wanted an anonymous name for the fan boards and chat rooms, and it’s an old nickname I dug out.”
“Is there a real name you want to share?” Jon’s smile was infectious, and Cheryl couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“There is a real name, but I think I’ll stick with ‘Willow’ until I’m sure I won’t embarrass myself any more.” She let out a nervous giggle, and fidgeted with the end of her hair. Realizing what she was doing, she dropped her hands, but had no idea where to put them.
Sensing her discomfort at the relative silence, Jon offered, “So, where you headed? Surely the party can’t be all that bad; karaoke aside.” He chuckled at Cheryl’s expression.
“Hell NO, you heard that?” She groaned and put her hands to her head as if staving off a headache. “Shoot me now,” she muttered under her breath.
Jon laughed. “Oh it wasn’t all that bad,” he said, his mood lightening. “So? Where were you headed before I swept you off your feet?”
Cheryl laughed softly. “I needed some air,” she said. “And a cigarette.” She hadn’t told her friends she had taken up the nervous habit again.
“Ah, a kindred spirit,” Jon said. “Mind if I join you?”
Cheryl just stared at him. “Uh, no, of course not,” she said. “I just have to find my...” she said, scanning the ground. “Bag,” she finished weakly. Of course her traitorous bag had landed smack in between Jon’s legs. “Uh, excuse me,” she said, hoping he’d take a step back so it didn’t look like she was going to service him right here in the bar. A few more drinks, and she wouldn’t care what it looked like, but she wasn’t there yet. She gulped when he didn’t move right away, and started to gracefully bend down to retrieve it.
Jon saw the bag at his feet at the same time Cheryl started to move. “No, I got it,” he said, as he too, bent to retrieve it.
They bumped foreheads. “Ow! Dammit!” Cheryl said, rubbing her forehead. She very nearly lost her balance, but Jon grabbed her arms at the last moment. She took one look at Jon and burst out laughing. “Oh God, could this night get any more strange?” she groaned.
Jon chuckled and helped Cheryl to her feet, handing her the clutch. “Here you go, Willow,” he said. “Now how about that smoke?”
“Oh hell yes,” she answered, digging into her purse for the slim case she kept there. She turned her back on Jon and quickly made her way through the room.
Jon watched her walk away, mesmerized by the gentle roll of her hips. He peeked into the back room through the door’s small window, and almost laughed at what he saw. Obie was surrounded by women, looking like he was holding court and having the time of his life. Obie always had a knack for making friends wherever he went. One woman had her arm tucked through the crook of his; Jon supposed that was Hath. Shaking his head in amusement, Jon followed Cheryl back through the bar and outside.
He found her huddled against the building, trying to get her lighter to spark. The wide awning over the entry kept the light precipitation from landing on them, but did nothing to protect against the wind. Cheryl kept tossing her head to flip her hair out of her face, and for a moment, Jon wondered if she thrashed her head like that when in the throes of an orgasm. Chagrinned at the direction his thoughts were running, and grateful that the cold was keeping his body in check, Jon dug his Zippo out of his front pocket.
“Here, let me,” he said, and swiped the lighter against his leg; expertly flipping the lid back and striking the wheel all at the same time. Cheryl smiled at the move and when she saw the flame start to flicker in the cold night’s breeze, cupped her hands around Jon’s, protecting the fire.
Jon’s breath caught at the touch of her small, delicate hands, and he held it as she leaned in to light her cigarette. He watched her intently as she drew the first pull of smoke deep into her lungs. Her eyes closed as her cheeks hollowed, and again, dirty thoughts poured through his head. After a moment, she dropped her hands from his, but not before she gave a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, angling her head away to blow a stream of smoke into the night. “God I needed that.” A stiff gust of wind blew Cheryl’s dress hard against her body, and the cold made her nipples pucker and gooseflesh rise on her arms.
“Where’s your jacket? You look freezing.” Jon barely managed to tear his gaze away from her chest as he asked. He shrugged out of the soft brown leather coat he wore and settled it around Cheryl’s shoulders, grinning at the shocked look on her face.
“I left it inside,” she answered. “I didn’t think it was all that bad out here.” She shrugged. “Guess I was wrong. Thanks for the loan,” she said, indicating the jacket, and smiling. “I have one just like it at home.”
Jon nodded and sparked the lighter again, cupping the flame with one hand and tilting his head to the side as he touched the flame to the end of the narrow tube between his lips. Jon closed his eyes as he sucked the first tendrils of acrid smoke deep into his lungs.
Cheryl took advantage of his momentary distraction to bring the collar of Jon’s jacket up to her nose. She inhaled quietly but deeply, taking in his scent. It was woodsy and musky, with just a hint of coffee and cigarettes, and totally, purely male.
She had a fleeting thought that if any of his scent clung to her dress, her husband would never let her hear the end of it.
Her husband.
Shit.
He had a way of fucking everything up, even when he wasn’t there.
Cheryl shook her head. She thought it before, and she thought it again now. He could go fuck himself. He had no place in this moment.
The two stood in companionable silence for a moment before Cheryl spoke up. “So, how’d Obie talk you into coming tonight?”
Jon slid her a surprised look. “Why do you think he had to talk me into it?”
Cheryl laughed. “I saw the look on your face before you turned on the charm when you caught me,” she said. “I’m pretty good at reading people, and you had a big ‘Calgon, take me away’ sign on your forehead.”
Jon laughed at her description of his expression earlier. “Yeah, you’re right; I didn’t really want to come out tonight. I should be in the studio working.” He took another drag of his cigarette, looking down to watch his boot-clad foot kick at a stone. “We’ve been working long nights,” he said, “and Ob and Rich thought I could use a break.” He laughed again, and met Cheryl’s eyes. “Most likely they’re the ones who needed a break.” He’d just keep the little part about the bet to himself.
Cheryl nodded absently and took a final pull of her cigarette. She stuck it into the sand-filled receptacle by the door and took a slim canister from her bag. Breath spray, Jon noticed, and watched as she spritzed her mouth. Cheryl saw him watching her and tilted the canister in his direction. Jon nodded, and stubbed out his own cigarette. Rather than take the Binaca from her, he gently grabbed her wrist and brought her hand close to his face. He smiled at the look of shock in Cheryl’s eyes, and felt her pulse race under his thumb. He slowly opened his mouth and waited. With a shaking finger, she pressed the plunger, sending a burst of sweet, minty spray into his mouth. He held her hand longer than what was necessary, stroking the back of her hand with his forefinger, and when he finally released her hand, it hovered for a moment before dropping to her side.
He thought he detected signals from Cheryl, THOSE signals, but he couldn’t quite be sure. He didn’t miss the glint of the wedding band on her ring finger, but she wasn’t fussing with it like some of the married women he’d met. In his experience, that usually meant the ring was worn out of habit, not devotion. After searching her eyes for a moment, he decided to test his theory.
“Well,” Jon said softly, leaning in close. “How do I smell?” He blew softly in her face. He watched as Cheryl’s eyes glazed over a little. Yes, he thought, he didn’t misread her.
“Delicious,” Cheryl whispered, absently licking her lips. A light flush suffused her skin; she hadn’t meant that thought to be spoken out loud. Fine, she could have said. Minty. But no, she had to choose delicious. Cheryl wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Although, if it did that, she wouldn’t be seeing what she thought she was seeing. Jon’s eyes were darkening just a little around the outsides.
Interesting.
Jon chuckled at her description, the corners of his mouth tipping upwards in a smile. “Want me to check your breath, Willow?” he asked. “See if you’re delicious too? Your friends don’t know you smoke, so they?”
Cheryl’s breath caught in her throat as she shook her head slowly from side to side. “No, they don’t know,” she said.
Jon put a hand on Cheryl’s shoulder and pulled her half an inch closer to him. He watched her eyes, terrified, excited eyes, searching his. They were flitting from side to side as if she was watching a tennis match. He would bet his Chevelle he knew what she was thinking.
He was thinking the same thing.
“Breathe for me, baby,” he said, and waited for her to part her lips. As soon as she did, he touched his lips to hers, tasting her. After a moment of stiffened surprise, Cheryl relaxed, reveling in the feel of Jon’s warm lips on hers. She gripped his forearms firmly, to keep from falling at his feet. After a moment, Jon broke the kiss and inched back.
He smiled, gently tucking a wind-caught lock of hair behind Cheryl’s ear. “Yes, delicious is the right word,” he said, licking his lips. “Shall we return to the party, Willow?”
“It’s Cheryl,” she said softly. “And I guess we should.”
Jon crooked his right elbow in her direction and made a little half-bow. She dropped a quick curtsy before looping her left arm through his, resting her hand on his forearm. He covered her cold hand with his warm one, and they made their way back inside.
He found her huddled against the building, trying to get her lighter to spark. The wide awning over the entry kept the light precipitation from landing on them, but did nothing to protect against the wind. Cheryl kept tossing her head to flip her hair out of her face, and for a moment, Jon wondered if she thrashed her head like that when in the throes of an orgasm. Chagrinned at the direction his thoughts were running, and grateful that the cold was keeping his body in check, Jon dug his Zippo out of his front pocket.
“Here, let me,” he said, and swiped the lighter against his leg; expertly flipping the lid back and striking the wheel all at the same time. Cheryl smiled at the move and when she saw the flame start to flicker in the cold night’s breeze, cupped her hands around Jon’s, protecting the fire.
Jon’s breath caught at the touch of her small, delicate hands, and he held it as she leaned in to light her cigarette. He watched her intently as she drew the first pull of smoke deep into her lungs. Her eyes closed as her cheeks hollowed, and again, dirty thoughts poured through his head. After a moment, she dropped her hands from his, but not before she gave a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, angling her head away to blow a stream of smoke into the night. “God I needed that.” A stiff gust of wind blew Cheryl’s dress hard against her body, and the cold made her nipples pucker and gooseflesh rise on her arms.
“Where’s your jacket? You look freezing.” Jon barely managed to tear his gaze away from her chest as he asked. He shrugged out of the soft brown leather coat he wore and settled it around Cheryl’s shoulders, grinning at the shocked look on her face.
“I left it inside,” she answered. “I didn’t think it was all that bad out here.” She shrugged. “Guess I was wrong. Thanks for the loan,” she said, indicating the jacket, and smiling. “I have one just like it at home.”
Jon nodded and sparked the lighter again, cupping the flame with one hand and tilting his head to the side as he touched the flame to the end of the narrow tube between his lips. Jon closed his eyes as he sucked the first tendrils of acrid smoke deep into his lungs.
Cheryl took advantage of his momentary distraction to bring the collar of Jon’s jacket up to her nose. She inhaled quietly but deeply, taking in his scent. It was woodsy and musky, with just a hint of coffee and cigarettes, and totally, purely male.
She had a fleeting thought that if any of his scent clung to her dress, her husband would never let her hear the end of it.
Her husband.
Shit.
He had a way of fucking everything up, even when he wasn’t there.
Cheryl shook her head. She thought it before, and she thought it again now. He could go fuck himself. He had no place in this moment.
The two stood in companionable silence for a moment before Cheryl spoke up. “So, how’d Obie talk you into coming tonight?”
Jon slid her a surprised look. “Why do you think he had to talk me into it?”
Cheryl laughed. “I saw the look on your face before you turned on the charm when you caught me,” she said. “I’m pretty good at reading people, and you had a big ‘Calgon, take me away’ sign on your forehead.”
Jon laughed at her description of his expression earlier. “Yeah, you’re right; I didn’t really want to come out tonight. I should be in the studio working.” He took another drag of his cigarette, looking down to watch his boot-clad foot kick at a stone. “We’ve been working long nights,” he said, “and Ob and Rich thought I could use a break.” He laughed again, and met Cheryl’s eyes. “Most likely they’re the ones who needed a break.” He’d just keep the little part about the bet to himself.
Cheryl nodded absently and took a final pull of her cigarette. She stuck it into the sand-filled receptacle by the door and took a slim canister from her bag. Breath spray, Jon noticed, and watched as she spritzed her mouth. Cheryl saw him watching her and tilted the canister in his direction. Jon nodded, and stubbed out his own cigarette. Rather than take the Binaca from her, he gently grabbed her wrist and brought her hand close to his face. He smiled at the look of shock in Cheryl’s eyes, and felt her pulse race under his thumb. He slowly opened his mouth and waited. With a shaking finger, she pressed the plunger, sending a burst of sweet, minty spray into his mouth. He held her hand longer than what was necessary, stroking the back of her hand with his forefinger, and when he finally released her hand, it hovered for a moment before dropping to her side.
He thought he detected signals from Cheryl, THOSE signals, but he couldn’t quite be sure. He didn’t miss the glint of the wedding band on her ring finger, but she wasn’t fussing with it like some of the married women he’d met. In his experience, that usually meant the ring was worn out of habit, not devotion. After searching her eyes for a moment, he decided to test his theory.
“Well,” Jon said softly, leaning in close. “How do I smell?” He blew softly in her face. He watched as Cheryl’s eyes glazed over a little. Yes, he thought, he didn’t misread her.
“Delicious,” Cheryl whispered, absently licking her lips. A light flush suffused her skin; she hadn’t meant that thought to be spoken out loud. Fine, she could have said. Minty. But no, she had to choose delicious. Cheryl wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Although, if it did that, she wouldn’t be seeing what she thought she was seeing. Jon’s eyes were darkening just a little around the outsides.
Interesting.
Jon chuckled at her description, the corners of his mouth tipping upwards in a smile. “Want me to check your breath, Willow?” he asked. “See if you’re delicious too? Your friends don’t know you smoke, so they?”
Cheryl’s breath caught in her throat as she shook her head slowly from side to side. “No, they don’t know,” she said.
Jon put a hand on Cheryl’s shoulder and pulled her half an inch closer to him. He watched her eyes, terrified, excited eyes, searching his. They were flitting from side to side as if she was watching a tennis match. He would bet his Chevelle he knew what she was thinking.
He was thinking the same thing.
“Breathe for me, baby,” he said, and waited for her to part her lips. As soon as she did, he touched his lips to hers, tasting her. After a moment of stiffened surprise, Cheryl relaxed, reveling in the feel of Jon’s warm lips on hers. She gripped his forearms firmly, to keep from falling at his feet. After a moment, Jon broke the kiss and inched back.
He smiled, gently tucking a wind-caught lock of hair behind Cheryl’s ear. “Yes, delicious is the right word,” he said, licking his lips. “Shall we return to the party, Willow?”
“It’s Cheryl,” she said softly. “And I guess we should.”
Jon crooked his right elbow in her direction and made a little half-bow. She dropped a quick curtsy before looping her left arm through his, resting her hand on his forearm. He covered her cold hand with his warm one, and they made their way back inside.
When Cheryl pushed through the back room’s door, it was to see the girls all gathering on one side of the bar. They were arranging themselves on tables, chairs and the floor, and Charlie the bartender had about two dozen cameras lined up on the bar.
“Ain’t you girls evah heard a email?” he teased. “Ya know, take one pick-cha and send it around?”
“Yeah, yeah,” someone called out, and the whole group laughed.
Hath saw her enter the room. “Just in time!” she called. “Come over here and get in the shot!” She and Samantha had Obie sitting front and center, and flanked his sides. Hath patted Obie’s lap. “Even got a seat all picked out for you!”
Cheryl laughed and cast a glance behind her. Jon was smiling and encouraging her to go have her picture taken. “I’ll be right in,” he whispered.
Cheryl walked on shaky legs over to her seat. “Nice to meet you,” she said to Obie.
“Siddown already!” Charlie bellowed.
Cheryl giggled and did as she was told. She looped an arm around Obie’s neck and smiled. After a long few minutes of mugging for the camera, Charlie declared he was done. The girls all relaxed and Hath and Samantha pulled Cheryl aside.
“You okay, honey?” Samantha asked. Then she frowned. “I thought you wore the purple jacket tonight? Where’d you get this one?”
“Uh…” Cheryl hedged. “I sorta ran into a friend out in the restaurant.”
“Jeez,” Hath complained. “Is there anyone you DON’T know?” She and Samantha started laughing.
“Actually,” Cheryl said softly, “you guys know him too.” She smiled. “He came with Obie.”
Hath and Samantha looked at Cheryl for a full minute. Then they looked at each other, eyebrows cocked. Samantha spoke first. “No fucking way,” she said. Cheryl just blushed.
“Yes fucking way?” Hath asked? “This place is going to go insane! Where is he? And did he bring anyone else with him?”
“Did who bring anyone else with him?” Obie asked from behind them, making Hath scream.
“Jesus, man, wear a fucking bell!” she said, swatting his shoulder. He acted just like her brother, and she treated him that way.
“That’s what I tell him,” a whiskey-tinged voice called from the doorway.
The entire room went silent.
Then the screams were deafening.
To their credit, the women flocked to Jon, but didn’t maul him, though the looks on their faces said they wanted to do just that. Some even reached out as if to touch him, but snatched their hands away. He didn’t seem in any hurry to get out of there, and they didn’t want to spoil that.
“Good evenin’, ladies,” Jon said. “Hope you don’t mind me crashin’ your little party here.”
“Oh HELL no,” was the chorused answer.
Jon laughed. “Cheryl, darlin’, you in here somewhere?” he called. Cheryl blushed as the whole room turned to stare agog at her. She gave Jon a little wave. He smiled crossed the room to her. Cheryl introduced him to Samantha and Hath. Jon smirked. “Oh, so you’re Hath, huh?” She just nodded mutely. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. He whispered, “I’m an admirer of your work.”
Hath paled and took one step backward, then another and another until she felt the bar at her back. She slammed her palm down on the mahogany counter. “Charlie!” she shouted. “Cuervo. NOW.” Charlie poured her a shot which she knocked back quickly, and asked for a second when Jon came to the bar.
“I’ll have one of those,” he said. He looked at Hath. “You told Obie drinks were on you, does that extend to me, too?” Hath just nodded, gob smacked. She was a Richie girl through and through, but up close, Jon was certainly something to behold. And he read her stories? She was ready to die.
When Charlie set the drinks down, Jon handed one to Hath. He touched his glass to hers. She had just started to drink it when he said, under his breath, “Here’s to porn.” Hath choked on her tequila and Jon just laughed.
He downed his shot and returned to Cheryl, who hadn’t yet taken her eyes off of him. He winked at her and turned to the room. He saw many of the women holding cameras, but not taking shots. “It’s alright, ladies,” he said. “Click away.” Jon thought he was being a good sport, letting the girls click away at him; taking pictures with them and signing a zillion pieces of paper.
Jon took the time to shake every hand, kiss every proffered cheek, and he had a wide smile for everyone. He answered questions and asked a few of his own, and found that this group of women, while very vocal, were really quite well-behaved. He found himself having a good time, despite how the evening started out.
As he scanned the room again, his gaze caught that of the stray husband that tagged along for the ride, and Jon made his way over. After introducing himself, Jon said, “So how’d you get roped into this, man?”
Steve just laughed. “I love my wife,” he said simply.
Jon chuckled. He remembered when he would have shared that sentiment. He turned and looked for Cheryl again, finding her deep in conference with Hath and Samantha. He sidled up to the trio of women just in time to hear the tail end of the whispered conversation.
“Jon said that he admired my fucking work! What the HELL is that?” Hath sounded mortified, and Jon had to smile.
Samantha chuckled huskily. “Well honey, that would be pretty much your worst nightmare come true. It’s pretty fucking funny if you ask me.”
“Go ahead laugh,” Hath said. “But just remember, if he found me, he found you.” That made Sam’s color rise. “Yeah, tell me about it,” Hath moaned. “I hope you’re happy where my stories are now, because I’m going to put a big old THE END at the end of all of them.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” Jon said, making the women jump. “Richie and David would be so disappointed.”
Hath’s color drained from her face. “Fuck me,” she wailed.
Jon smirked and tilted his head to one side. “I thought you were a Richie girl?”
Hath’s mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. She grabbed Sam’s elbow and pulled. “Air. Drink. Now.”
Cheryl watched them go, and laughed, turning to Jon. “That wasn’t very nice,” she said. “Funny as all hell, but not very nice.”
“Oh come on,” Jon said, leaning his elbow against the bar, and crossing his feet at the ankle. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“It’s a good thing she’s a little drunk; she won’t remember much of that exchange tomorrow.”
Jon laughed. “Do you have her number in your phone?” Cheryl nodded, and handed Jon her cell. He flipped through the numbers until he landed on “Goddess” and dialed. It went straight to voicemail, and Jon left a message. “Hey Hath; Cheryl said you probably wouldn’t remember my comments to you tomorrow, and that just won’t do. Listen up, doll. Some of the guys read your shit. If you stop writing, David and Richie are going to be more of a pain in the ass than normal.”
He flipped the phone closed and handed it back to Cheryl. They chatted for a few minutes, then Jon made the rounds in the room again. Most of the women hadn’t been able to take their eyes off him, and he had to admit, it did his ego good to have that effect on a roomful of women. He eventually made his way back to Obie, and pulled him to the bar. “Bro, I’m gonna take off.” He signaled Charlie, who pulled Jon’s jacket from a shelf behind the bar.
Obie raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You don’t want to bask in the adoration a little longer? Isn’t that a drug for you?”
“Fuck you,” Jon said, though without rancor.
“Not even if you doubled my salary,” Obie said. “You aren’t my type.” He caught something in Jon’s eye. “You aren’t leaving alone, are you. Jesus, Jon.”
“Obe, put a cork in it. I don’t know if I’m leaving alone yet. It’s up to her.”
“Her who?”
“Cheryl. The girl I caught at the door.” Jon found the woman in question watching him, and she blushed and turned away when he caught her glaze.
Obie followed his gaze. “Yeah, sure.” He sighed. “Here,” he dug his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll have Rich come pick me up.”
Jon took the key ring from Obie and stuffed it deep into his jeans. “Thanks man,” he said distracted. He made his way to the door. “Ladies,” he said, “it was a real pleasure meeting you. Be careful driving home, yeah? Goodnight.” Cheryl had been one of the first to come and make her goodbyes, and Jon thought for sure that she would stay near him and maybe walk him out. She didn’t. Maybe he was wrong about her.
Another round of pictures and hand shakes, and finally, an hour after he started, he was able to leave. He saw Hath and Samantha sitting at a bar-table just outside the door. He stopped to say goodbye.
“Are you avoiding me, Hath?” Jon said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
“Yes,” Hath said bluntly. “You will be a beautiful blurry memory tomorrow, and that’s just fine by me.”
Jon laughed, “Check your voicemail later, doll,” he said. He circled the table to kiss Sam’s cheek. “It was nice to meet you,” he said. He wanted to ask the women about Cheryl, but didn’t really want to seem desperate. Nice women or not, they were not his friends, and he didn’t make a habit of showing vulnerability to strangers. Fortunately, he didn’t have to bring her up.
“What the fuck is up with you and Cheryl?” Sam demanded. Hath hissed at her to shut up, but Sam just waved her off. “No, no, Hath, he hasn’t taken his fucking eyes off her all night.”
Jon spread his hands in a gesture of total innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We shared a smoke, chatted a little, that’s all.”
Hath dropped her head into her hands. “Oh sweet hell,” she said, then looked at Sam.
“What?” Jon asked.
Sam laughed. “You forgot you are talking to FANS here, pal. Shit, that question should have been totally ignored or gotten a ‘fuck you’ at the very least. You don’t answer questions like that.”
Jon started to get annoyed, then realized she was right. “Look, your friend and I hit it off, okay? She’s funny and pretty and so what if I was looking at her?”
“Hi, Cheryl,” Hath said, looking over Jon’s shoulder.
Jon whirled around. “Hey, we were just talking about you,” he said.
Cheryl looked like she wanted to run away. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I heard.”
Jon grinned. “Walk me out?”
Hath and Sam stared at him, not quite believing what they were seeing. Not that Cheryl didn’t deserve someone like Jon, but because he was being so blatant about it. Hell, they could SEE what he was thinking – not only on his face, but in his pants as well.
“Let me just go grab my jacket,” Cheryl said.
“You can take mine,” Jon said, shrugging out of it. He put it around Cheryl’s shoulders.
“Uh,” she said, looking helplessly to Hath and Sam.
Sam smiled. “We’ll take care of your stuff,” she said. “I assume you want us to stay here until last call?”
Cheryl turned six shades of red. “Samantha!” she hissed.
“What? Like if he asked you, you wouldn’t go. Just let us know if we can go back to the house or if we should get a room for the night.”
“Jesus, Sam!” Cheryl looked to Jon. “Can you please give me one minute?”
Jon smiled at Cheryl, “Of course, sweetheart.” He winked at her. “You have my favorite jacket, I’m not going anywhere without it.” He tapped the end of her nose and strutted away from the women, all of whom stared at the most magnificent ass on the planet as its owner sauntered from the room.
“Ain’t you girls evah heard a email?” he teased. “Ya know, take one pick-cha and send it around?”
“Yeah, yeah,” someone called out, and the whole group laughed.
Hath saw her enter the room. “Just in time!” she called. “Come over here and get in the shot!” She and Samantha had Obie sitting front and center, and flanked his sides. Hath patted Obie’s lap. “Even got a seat all picked out for you!”
Cheryl laughed and cast a glance behind her. Jon was smiling and encouraging her to go have her picture taken. “I’ll be right in,” he whispered.
Cheryl walked on shaky legs over to her seat. “Nice to meet you,” she said to Obie.
“Siddown already!” Charlie bellowed.
Cheryl giggled and did as she was told. She looped an arm around Obie’s neck and smiled. After a long few minutes of mugging for the camera, Charlie declared he was done. The girls all relaxed and Hath and Samantha pulled Cheryl aside.
“You okay, honey?” Samantha asked. Then she frowned. “I thought you wore the purple jacket tonight? Where’d you get this one?”
“Uh…” Cheryl hedged. “I sorta ran into a friend out in the restaurant.”
“Jeez,” Hath complained. “Is there anyone you DON’T know?” She and Samantha started laughing.
“Actually,” Cheryl said softly, “you guys know him too.” She smiled. “He came with Obie.”
Hath and Samantha looked at Cheryl for a full minute. Then they looked at each other, eyebrows cocked. Samantha spoke first. “No fucking way,” she said. Cheryl just blushed.
“Yes fucking way?” Hath asked? “This place is going to go insane! Where is he? And did he bring anyone else with him?”
“Did who bring anyone else with him?” Obie asked from behind them, making Hath scream.
“Jesus, man, wear a fucking bell!” she said, swatting his shoulder. He acted just like her brother, and she treated him that way.
“That’s what I tell him,” a whiskey-tinged voice called from the doorway.
The entire room went silent.
Then the screams were deafening.
To their credit, the women flocked to Jon, but didn’t maul him, though the looks on their faces said they wanted to do just that. Some even reached out as if to touch him, but snatched their hands away. He didn’t seem in any hurry to get out of there, and they didn’t want to spoil that.
“Good evenin’, ladies,” Jon said. “Hope you don’t mind me crashin’ your little party here.”
“Oh HELL no,” was the chorused answer.
Jon laughed. “Cheryl, darlin’, you in here somewhere?” he called. Cheryl blushed as the whole room turned to stare agog at her. She gave Jon a little wave. He smiled crossed the room to her. Cheryl introduced him to Samantha and Hath. Jon smirked. “Oh, so you’re Hath, huh?” She just nodded mutely. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. He whispered, “I’m an admirer of your work.”
Hath paled and took one step backward, then another and another until she felt the bar at her back. She slammed her palm down on the mahogany counter. “Charlie!” she shouted. “Cuervo. NOW.” Charlie poured her a shot which she knocked back quickly, and asked for a second when Jon came to the bar.
“I’ll have one of those,” he said. He looked at Hath. “You told Obie drinks were on you, does that extend to me, too?” Hath just nodded, gob smacked. She was a Richie girl through and through, but up close, Jon was certainly something to behold. And he read her stories? She was ready to die.
When Charlie set the drinks down, Jon handed one to Hath. He touched his glass to hers. She had just started to drink it when he said, under his breath, “Here’s to porn.” Hath choked on her tequila and Jon just laughed.
He downed his shot and returned to Cheryl, who hadn’t yet taken her eyes off of him. He winked at her and turned to the room. He saw many of the women holding cameras, but not taking shots. “It’s alright, ladies,” he said. “Click away.” Jon thought he was being a good sport, letting the girls click away at him; taking pictures with them and signing a zillion pieces of paper.
Jon took the time to shake every hand, kiss every proffered cheek, and he had a wide smile for everyone. He answered questions and asked a few of his own, and found that this group of women, while very vocal, were really quite well-behaved. He found himself having a good time, despite how the evening started out.
As he scanned the room again, his gaze caught that of the stray husband that tagged along for the ride, and Jon made his way over. After introducing himself, Jon said, “So how’d you get roped into this, man?”
Steve just laughed. “I love my wife,” he said simply.
Jon chuckled. He remembered when he would have shared that sentiment. He turned and looked for Cheryl again, finding her deep in conference with Hath and Samantha. He sidled up to the trio of women just in time to hear the tail end of the whispered conversation.
“Jon said that he admired my fucking work! What the HELL is that?” Hath sounded mortified, and Jon had to smile.
Samantha chuckled huskily. “Well honey, that would be pretty much your worst nightmare come true. It’s pretty fucking funny if you ask me.”
“Go ahead laugh,” Hath said. “But just remember, if he found me, he found you.” That made Sam’s color rise. “Yeah, tell me about it,” Hath moaned. “I hope you’re happy where my stories are now, because I’m going to put a big old THE END at the end of all of them.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” Jon said, making the women jump. “Richie and David would be so disappointed.”
Hath’s color drained from her face. “Fuck me,” she wailed.
Jon smirked and tilted his head to one side. “I thought you were a Richie girl?”
Hath’s mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. She grabbed Sam’s elbow and pulled. “Air. Drink. Now.”
Cheryl watched them go, and laughed, turning to Jon. “That wasn’t very nice,” she said. “Funny as all hell, but not very nice.”
“Oh come on,” Jon said, leaning his elbow against the bar, and crossing his feet at the ankle. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“It’s a good thing she’s a little drunk; she won’t remember much of that exchange tomorrow.”
Jon laughed. “Do you have her number in your phone?” Cheryl nodded, and handed Jon her cell. He flipped through the numbers until he landed on “Goddess” and dialed. It went straight to voicemail, and Jon left a message. “Hey Hath; Cheryl said you probably wouldn’t remember my comments to you tomorrow, and that just won’t do. Listen up, doll. Some of the guys read your shit. If you stop writing, David and Richie are going to be more of a pain in the ass than normal.”
He flipped the phone closed and handed it back to Cheryl. They chatted for a few minutes, then Jon made the rounds in the room again. Most of the women hadn’t been able to take their eyes off him, and he had to admit, it did his ego good to have that effect on a roomful of women. He eventually made his way back to Obie, and pulled him to the bar. “Bro, I’m gonna take off.” He signaled Charlie, who pulled Jon’s jacket from a shelf behind the bar.
Obie raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You don’t want to bask in the adoration a little longer? Isn’t that a drug for you?”
“Fuck you,” Jon said, though without rancor.
“Not even if you doubled my salary,” Obie said. “You aren’t my type.” He caught something in Jon’s eye. “You aren’t leaving alone, are you. Jesus, Jon.”
“Obe, put a cork in it. I don’t know if I’m leaving alone yet. It’s up to her.”
“Her who?”
“Cheryl. The girl I caught at the door.” Jon found the woman in question watching him, and she blushed and turned away when he caught her glaze.
Obie followed his gaze. “Yeah, sure.” He sighed. “Here,” he dug his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll have Rich come pick me up.”
Jon took the key ring from Obie and stuffed it deep into his jeans. “Thanks man,” he said distracted. He made his way to the door. “Ladies,” he said, “it was a real pleasure meeting you. Be careful driving home, yeah? Goodnight.” Cheryl had been one of the first to come and make her goodbyes, and Jon thought for sure that she would stay near him and maybe walk him out. She didn’t. Maybe he was wrong about her.
Another round of pictures and hand shakes, and finally, an hour after he started, he was able to leave. He saw Hath and Samantha sitting at a bar-table just outside the door. He stopped to say goodbye.
“Are you avoiding me, Hath?” Jon said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
“Yes,” Hath said bluntly. “You will be a beautiful blurry memory tomorrow, and that’s just fine by me.”
Jon laughed, “Check your voicemail later, doll,” he said. He circled the table to kiss Sam’s cheek. “It was nice to meet you,” he said. He wanted to ask the women about Cheryl, but didn’t really want to seem desperate. Nice women or not, they were not his friends, and he didn’t make a habit of showing vulnerability to strangers. Fortunately, he didn’t have to bring her up.
“What the fuck is up with you and Cheryl?” Sam demanded. Hath hissed at her to shut up, but Sam just waved her off. “No, no, Hath, he hasn’t taken his fucking eyes off her all night.”
Jon spread his hands in a gesture of total innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We shared a smoke, chatted a little, that’s all.”
Hath dropped her head into her hands. “Oh sweet hell,” she said, then looked at Sam.
“What?” Jon asked.
Sam laughed. “You forgot you are talking to FANS here, pal. Shit, that question should have been totally ignored or gotten a ‘fuck you’ at the very least. You don’t answer questions like that.”
Jon started to get annoyed, then realized she was right. “Look, your friend and I hit it off, okay? She’s funny and pretty and so what if I was looking at her?”
“Hi, Cheryl,” Hath said, looking over Jon’s shoulder.
Jon whirled around. “Hey, we were just talking about you,” he said.
Cheryl looked like she wanted to run away. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I heard.”
Jon grinned. “Walk me out?”
Hath and Sam stared at him, not quite believing what they were seeing. Not that Cheryl didn’t deserve someone like Jon, but because he was being so blatant about it. Hell, they could SEE what he was thinking – not only on his face, but in his pants as well.
“Let me just go grab my jacket,” Cheryl said.
“You can take mine,” Jon said, shrugging out of it. He put it around Cheryl’s shoulders.
“Uh,” she said, looking helplessly to Hath and Sam.
Sam smiled. “We’ll take care of your stuff,” she said. “I assume you want us to stay here until last call?”
Cheryl turned six shades of red. “Samantha!” she hissed.
“What? Like if he asked you, you wouldn’t go. Just let us know if we can go back to the house or if we should get a room for the night.”
“Jesus, Sam!” Cheryl looked to Jon. “Can you please give me one minute?”
Jon smiled at Cheryl, “Of course, sweetheart.” He winked at her. “You have my favorite jacket, I’m not going anywhere without it.” He tapped the end of her nose and strutted away from the women, all of whom stared at the most magnificent ass on the planet as its owner sauntered from the room.
“Shit, Cheryl,” Hath said.
“I know,” she answered, not able to tear her eyes away from where Jon disappeared from view.
“Fuck, Cheryl,” Sam added.
“I KNOW!” Cheryl yelled. “Oh GOD, what am I doing?”
Sam put her arm around Cheryl’s shoulder and squeezed. “Living the dream, babe.”
“Oh I know, but damn it,” she looked down at her wedding ring.
“Don’t,” Hath said. “Don’t think about it. Don’t think about HIM. Don’t over-analyze.”
“I agree,” Sam said. “Don’t think, just do. And do it twice, once for me.”
Cheryl laughed. “You guys are terrible. But I love you. Oh my GOD, is this really happening? Am I dreaming?”
Hath reached over to pinch Cheryl’s ass. When she yelled indignantly, Hath laughed. “Nope, wide wake, babe. Go. Text us if we shouldn’t come out. We’ll text you when we’re leaving.”
Stunned, Cheryl started to follow in Jon’s wake.
When she was gone, the two women went back in to join the party. They found Obie at the bar, talking to someone on the phone. “Yeah I need a ride.” He paused to let the other party speak. “Why do you think?” Another pause, then dirty laughter. “Yeah, and no, not her; her friend.” Pause. “Well, shit, you’re useless then. No, no, I’ll figure something out.” He closed his phone. “Fuck,” he said.
“Problem?” Hath asked him, sitting on the stool next to him.
“My ride’s had a few, and Jon has my car,” Obie scowled at his glass and downed the dregs of his whiskey.
Sam sat on Obie’s other side. “Darlin’, you’re in luck,” she said. “We just so happen to have an extra seat in our limo. We’d be happy to take you wherever you have to go. But we have to stay to close the place,” she said wickedly.
Obie laughed. “I’m up for it if you are.”
*******
Outside, Jon was lounging against the side of the building when Cheryl came out. “Everything alright with your friends, there, Cheryl?” His smirk was visible, even in the dim light cast by the bar’s signs.
Cheryl took a deep breath. “I guess that depends on what you mean by ‘alright’,” she said. “They’re just being good friends is all.”
Jon nodded. He knew a thing or two about well-meaning friends. “So,” Jon said.
“So,” Cheryl agreed. “Listen, I don’t want you to feel obligated—”
Jon cut her off. “Obligated?” He laughed. “Sweetheart, if I didn’t want to be here, I’d be gone already. I want to be here.” He pushed back from the wall and approached Cheryl. “With you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you sure you want to be here with me?” He trailed a hand down her arm to take her left hand, fingering her wedding ring.
Cheryl watched Jon’s fingers play with her ring. Jon watched Cheryl’s face, and saw the play of emotions in her eyes. “Hey,” he said. “No harm, no foul, right? We can just go have coffee or something.”
That made Cheryl laugh hard. She laughed until tears streamed down her face. “God, I’m sorry, Jon, I don’t mean to laugh, it’s just...” She tried to get control of herself. “This is just so AHH! damned surreal, you know? We girls all play the ‘what if’ game, and I guess,” she took a big gulp of air, “I guess I never really expected to be asked to play for real.”
Jon nodded. “So there’s the real question then,” he said softly. “Do you want to play the ‘what if’ game for real?”
Cheryl turned red, but didn’t pull her hand away from Jon’s. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”
“Walk with me,” Jon said. He turned, still holding Cheryl’s hand, and smiled at her. She walked alongside him through the parking lot, until they came to the spot where Obie had parked his Explorer. He leaned against the driver’s door, and pulled Cheryl to him, winding his arms around her waist. “What if I told you,” Jon began, “that I wanted to be alone with you?”
Cheryl took a steadying breath and smiled. She could feel the evidence of that pressing into her thigh. Looking around, she said, “I’d say you already accomplished that goal.”
Jon chuckled. “Ok then, what if I told you I wanted to be alone and naked with you?”
A slight gasp slipped through Cheryl’s lips. Do or die time, she thought. “I’d say it’s way too cold for that here, and we should go someplace decidedly warmer and far more private.” Jon just raised an eyebrow, for she didn’t really answer the question. “But I would tell you honestly that I wanted that too.”
Jon smiled and leaned in to give Cheryl a gentle kiss. “Where should we go? I’m staying with Rich, and don’t really want to go back to his place. We can go get a hotel room, or...”
Cheryl picked up where he trailed off. “Or, we could go to my place on LBI. That’s what Hath and Sam were talking about. They’re all out here for the week.”
“All?” Jon asked.
“Yes, Hath, Sam, Tara, and Queenie. All.” She fidgeted with the collar of Jon’s shirt. “All their stuff is at the house; it’s not really fair to make them go somewhere else when they flew in from all over the place to be here…”
“Then,” Jon said, nuzzling Cheryl’s neck, “I guess we’d better get a move on.” He checked his watch. “Last call is in about four hours. It’s what, an hour’s drive out there?”
“Forty five minutes at this time of night if you have a lead foot,” Cheryl said, giggling.
“That’s my kind of thinking,” Jon said. He walked her around to the passenger side, opened the door and handed her up into her seat. He smiled a heart-breaking smile at her before shutting the door and jogging around the front of the Ford to the driver’s door. As he clicked his seatbelt into place, he handed Cheryl the GPS. “Tell Jill where we need to go,” he said absently.
Cheryl started laughing. “Jill? Your little bitch is called Jill? So is Hath’s.”
Jon raised an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth as he started the truck. “Oh that’s a story right there. ‘Little bitch’?”
Cheryl blushed. While she dialed the house’s address into the machine, she told Jon about the wild ride the GPS took her, Hath, Samantha and another friend on when they were driving from Boston to New York for the Central Park show. Jon burst out laughing when she told him about the GPS putting Hath in the wrong lane on the bridge, and then having to make a side-trip to New Jersey, and having to pay $8 for the privilege of leaving.
Jon laughed. “Damn, no wonder she calls Jill a bitch. Sounds like you girls had a great time. The way you talk about them; you sound like pretty close friends.”
“We are,” Cheryl said. “The best.” She told him all about their weekend that started in Boston with the Fleet Center shows, and ended in New York. She laughed at his expression when she told him about sharing a bed with Sam one night, and Hath the next.
Jon heard something in her voice. “What is it? You sound like you’re trying to convince me that they’re really your friends.”
“We still playing ‘what if’?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“What if I told you that I hadn’t met either of those girls until that first night in Boston, and Tara and Queenie until this week?”
He shrugged. “I would say I was surprised that you all bonded so quickly, but I never really understood how women’s heads work, so who am I to judge? What’s the problem?”
Cheryl smiled. “Nothing,” she said. He got it. “Nothing at all. Just drive.”
A scant forty minutes later, they were pulling into the crushed-stone driveway of a spacious beach house. The house was a gorgeously weathered two-story with upper and lower porches and sat about fifty yards from the ocean.
They climbed the stairs onto the porch and sat on an old, creaky swing. Jon set it to swaying with a push of his foot.
“This is beautiful,” Jon said, looking out over the water, wrapping an arm around Cheryl’s shoulder.
“This place soothes me,” Cheryl said. “It’s my haven when I need to get away and think. I’ve been coming here for years. I have lots of good memories here.”
Jon smiled and stood up. Cheryl took his proffered hand and led him inside.
“I know,” she answered, not able to tear her eyes away from where Jon disappeared from view.
“Fuck, Cheryl,” Sam added.
“I KNOW!” Cheryl yelled. “Oh GOD, what am I doing?”
Sam put her arm around Cheryl’s shoulder and squeezed. “Living the dream, babe.”
“Oh I know, but damn it,” she looked down at her wedding ring.
“Don’t,” Hath said. “Don’t think about it. Don’t think about HIM. Don’t over-analyze.”
“I agree,” Sam said. “Don’t think, just do. And do it twice, once for me.”
Cheryl laughed. “You guys are terrible. But I love you. Oh my GOD, is this really happening? Am I dreaming?”
Hath reached over to pinch Cheryl’s ass. When she yelled indignantly, Hath laughed. “Nope, wide wake, babe. Go. Text us if we shouldn’t come out. We’ll text you when we’re leaving.”
Stunned, Cheryl started to follow in Jon’s wake.
When she was gone, the two women went back in to join the party. They found Obie at the bar, talking to someone on the phone. “Yeah I need a ride.” He paused to let the other party speak. “Why do you think?” Another pause, then dirty laughter. “Yeah, and no, not her; her friend.” Pause. “Well, shit, you’re useless then. No, no, I’ll figure something out.” He closed his phone. “Fuck,” he said.
“Problem?” Hath asked him, sitting on the stool next to him.
“My ride’s had a few, and Jon has my car,” Obie scowled at his glass and downed the dregs of his whiskey.
Sam sat on Obie’s other side. “Darlin’, you’re in luck,” she said. “We just so happen to have an extra seat in our limo. We’d be happy to take you wherever you have to go. But we have to stay to close the place,” she said wickedly.
Obie laughed. “I’m up for it if you are.”
*******
Outside, Jon was lounging against the side of the building when Cheryl came out. “Everything alright with your friends, there, Cheryl?” His smirk was visible, even in the dim light cast by the bar’s signs.
Cheryl took a deep breath. “I guess that depends on what you mean by ‘alright’,” she said. “They’re just being good friends is all.”
Jon nodded. He knew a thing or two about well-meaning friends. “So,” Jon said.
“So,” Cheryl agreed. “Listen, I don’t want you to feel obligated—”
Jon cut her off. “Obligated?” He laughed. “Sweetheart, if I didn’t want to be here, I’d be gone already. I want to be here.” He pushed back from the wall and approached Cheryl. “With you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you sure you want to be here with me?” He trailed a hand down her arm to take her left hand, fingering her wedding ring.
Cheryl watched Jon’s fingers play with her ring. Jon watched Cheryl’s face, and saw the play of emotions in her eyes. “Hey,” he said. “No harm, no foul, right? We can just go have coffee or something.”
That made Cheryl laugh hard. She laughed until tears streamed down her face. “God, I’m sorry, Jon, I don’t mean to laugh, it’s just...” She tried to get control of herself. “This is just so AHH! damned surreal, you know? We girls all play the ‘what if’ game, and I guess,” she took a big gulp of air, “I guess I never really expected to be asked to play for real.”
Jon nodded. “So there’s the real question then,” he said softly. “Do you want to play the ‘what if’ game for real?”
Cheryl turned red, but didn’t pull her hand away from Jon’s. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”
“Walk with me,” Jon said. He turned, still holding Cheryl’s hand, and smiled at her. She walked alongside him through the parking lot, until they came to the spot where Obie had parked his Explorer. He leaned against the driver’s door, and pulled Cheryl to him, winding his arms around her waist. “What if I told you,” Jon began, “that I wanted to be alone with you?”
Cheryl took a steadying breath and smiled. She could feel the evidence of that pressing into her thigh. Looking around, she said, “I’d say you already accomplished that goal.”
Jon chuckled. “Ok then, what if I told you I wanted to be alone and naked with you?”
A slight gasp slipped through Cheryl’s lips. Do or die time, she thought. “I’d say it’s way too cold for that here, and we should go someplace decidedly warmer and far more private.” Jon just raised an eyebrow, for she didn’t really answer the question. “But I would tell you honestly that I wanted that too.”
Jon smiled and leaned in to give Cheryl a gentle kiss. “Where should we go? I’m staying with Rich, and don’t really want to go back to his place. We can go get a hotel room, or...”
Cheryl picked up where he trailed off. “Or, we could go to my place on LBI. That’s what Hath and Sam were talking about. They’re all out here for the week.”
“All?” Jon asked.
“Yes, Hath, Sam, Tara, and Queenie. All.” She fidgeted with the collar of Jon’s shirt. “All their stuff is at the house; it’s not really fair to make them go somewhere else when they flew in from all over the place to be here…”
“Then,” Jon said, nuzzling Cheryl’s neck, “I guess we’d better get a move on.” He checked his watch. “Last call is in about four hours. It’s what, an hour’s drive out there?”
“Forty five minutes at this time of night if you have a lead foot,” Cheryl said, giggling.
“That’s my kind of thinking,” Jon said. He walked her around to the passenger side, opened the door and handed her up into her seat. He smiled a heart-breaking smile at her before shutting the door and jogging around the front of the Ford to the driver’s door. As he clicked his seatbelt into place, he handed Cheryl the GPS. “Tell Jill where we need to go,” he said absently.
Cheryl started laughing. “Jill? Your little bitch is called Jill? So is Hath’s.”
Jon raised an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth as he started the truck. “Oh that’s a story right there. ‘Little bitch’?”
Cheryl blushed. While she dialed the house’s address into the machine, she told Jon about the wild ride the GPS took her, Hath, Samantha and another friend on when they were driving from Boston to New York for the Central Park show. Jon burst out laughing when she told him about the GPS putting Hath in the wrong lane on the bridge, and then having to make a side-trip to New Jersey, and having to pay $8 for the privilege of leaving.
Jon laughed. “Damn, no wonder she calls Jill a bitch. Sounds like you girls had a great time. The way you talk about them; you sound like pretty close friends.”
“We are,” Cheryl said. “The best.” She told him all about their weekend that started in Boston with the Fleet Center shows, and ended in New York. She laughed at his expression when she told him about sharing a bed with Sam one night, and Hath the next.
Jon heard something in her voice. “What is it? You sound like you’re trying to convince me that they’re really your friends.”
“We still playing ‘what if’?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“What if I told you that I hadn’t met either of those girls until that first night in Boston, and Tara and Queenie until this week?”
He shrugged. “I would say I was surprised that you all bonded so quickly, but I never really understood how women’s heads work, so who am I to judge? What’s the problem?”
Cheryl smiled. “Nothing,” she said. He got it. “Nothing at all. Just drive.”
A scant forty minutes later, they were pulling into the crushed-stone driveway of a spacious beach house. The house was a gorgeously weathered two-story with upper and lower porches and sat about fifty yards from the ocean.
They climbed the stairs onto the porch and sat on an old, creaky swing. Jon set it to swaying with a push of his foot.
“This is beautiful,” Jon said, looking out over the water, wrapping an arm around Cheryl’s shoulder.
“This place soothes me,” Cheryl said. “It’s my haven when I need to get away and think. I’ve been coming here for years. I have lots of good memories here.”
Jon smiled and stood up. Cheryl took his proffered hand and led him inside.
Jon barely registered the downstairs décor as he was led through an open family room and down a short hallway. He did notice the bedroom he was led to. It had a king-sized bed pushed against the far wall, with a mountain of pillows artfully arranged against the headboard. The room was done in shades of sand and pale blue; colors fitting for a beach house. The dressers had seashells and sea glass scattered over top of them, and a lamp with a sand-filled base provided the only muted illumination.
“Nice,” he said, closing the door behind him. He spun Cheryl around and crushed her to him, one arm wrapping around her hips, the other cupping the back of her head. Cheryl wound her arms around Jon’s neck and held on for dear life as the man who had fueled her fantasies for so many years made one of them come true. His mouth was hard, demanding against hers. Cheryl opened to him willingly, sliding her tongue along his. She rose on tip-toes to press the dull throb between her legs to his erection.
Jon turned them so Cheryl’s back was to the wall, and framed her face with his hands as he ground into her, his hips dipping and pushing in time with their tongues’ dance. When she whimpered, Jon ground into her harder. He rubbed more firmly against her, stroking her until she trembled in his arms.
Poised on the brink, Cheryl lost the strength to stand. Her knees buckled, and the only thing keeping her upright was Jon. Her head dropped back, even though it meant breaking contact with that delicious mouth, and it thunked against the door. Jon took advantage of the new skin presented for his tasting and latched onto the pulse point just beneath her ear. He could feel her pulse racing, pounding against his lips. Her fingers tangled in Jon’s slightly shaggy hair and gripped him tightly, holding him against her.
Smiling, Jon bit down on Cheryl’s neck, making her gasp. “No marks,” she implored, the only time thoughts of her husband would intrude on this night.
Jon slid his hands down Cheryl’s neck to the thin straps that held her dress in place. Slowly, he peeled them down, forcing her to drop her hands from his head. He pushed until the fabric of her dress barely clung to the very tips of her distended nipples. Arms pinned to her sides, all Cheryl could do was feel. She felt Jon’s lower body pull away from hers. She felt bereft and nearly sobbed until she felt his mouth start to skim down the column of her throat. He kissed across her neck, licking and sucking until he came to that spot where it met her shoulder.
Cheryl thought she’d died and gone to heaven. Jon’s lips were buttery soft and his breath on her skin was electrifying. The slight scrape of his teeth sent shivers down the length of her body, and caused her nipples to pucker more than they already were. Her dress had bound her arms to her sides, and she struggled to free them, so she could touch him. She wanted to feel his chest; to open the buttons on his Oxford shirt and scratch her fingernails through the fur there.
Her movements caused the dress to fall from the tips of her breasts, and it fell to the floor with a gentle swoosh. She didn’t care that she stood there clad only in panties and high-heels, now that her hands were free. While Jon continued his assault on her neck, his hands came up to cup her breasts; his thumbs rubbing gently across her peaks. Cheryl worked the buttons of Jon’s shirt until they were all undone, and pushed at the heavy cotton until it was gathered at his elbows. She studied him hungrily through lust-heavy eyes. His muscles were still very well-defined; the months since the tour hadn’t softened him yet. His pecs gave way to the hard ridges of his six-pack, and the deep vee of his hipbones begged for attention. Cheryl traced every inch of his chest with light fingertips, reveling in the small twitches he made and loving the contrast of the silky brown chest hairs with the wiry steel gray ones. When she ventured toward his hips he caught her wrists and raised them above her head, pinning them with one strong hand.
Jon kissed her hard as he squeezed one tender breast, testing its weight and loving how it fit into his hand. He pinched its tip, holding it between his fingers for long moments before gently pulling on it. When Cheryl gasped, he twisted it slightly, and he swallowed her moans of pleasure. He broke the kiss to smile at her, his eyes raking over her. “It would seem I am grossly overdressed,” he said. “What if I were to correct that?”
Cheryl laughed. “Mmm, yes, please,” she answered, her gaze flicking down to his belt.
Jon took a step back, letting Cheryl’s arms drop to her sides. She stepped out of the puddle of silk at her feet, and slid off her shoes. Jon unbuckled the heavy black leather belt and pulled it from the loops of his jeans, letting it fall noisily to the floor. When he put his hands to the button of his waistband, Cheryl padded forward and stopped him. She replaced his hands with her own and slid the button through its hole. As she lowered the zipper of his too-tight jeans, she sunk to the floor. She grabbed handfuls of denim and tugged, careful to ease the pants over his straining erection.
Jon toed off his shoes and kicked out of his jeans. Cheryl helped him out of his socks. She leaned down to trace the dragon on his ankle with her tongue. “I’ve always found this the sexiest tattoo,” she said, examining the ink thoroughly. She straightened on her knees and pushed at Jon’s waist.
Jon grabbed her hands and pulled her up. “Now you’re overdressed,” he chided. “We can’t have that.” He hooked his thumbs in the sides of her panties and pushed them downwards, kneeling to bring them down to her feet. He waited while she stepped out of them, then reached behind him to snag his jeans. He pushed her panties deep into one front pocket, withdrew a strip of condoms from the other, and discarded the pants again.
He looked up to see Cheryl looking at him, surprised he was prepared. At her unasked question, he said, “Would you rather we have to stop because we didn’t have protection?” She just shook her head. She didn’t care that he had gone to the bar prepared to get lucky. She was just glad she was the one he was getting lucky with. And that he had brought a whole strip.
Rising, Jon turned to consider the bed. With a growl, he tore the comforter off, sending the pillows scattering all over the room. He turned back to Cheryl, his eyes glittering in the pale lamplight. He crooked a finger at her and she obeyed, walking to him. He watched as she climbed onto the bed and lay on her side, propping her head on her hand. Jon followed, running a hand up her leg from calf to thigh, skimming over her hip to settle at her waist.
He loomed over her, urging her over onto her back. He kissed her deeply, pressing her into the mattress. He reached between her legs to find her wet and tested her readiness by thrusting two fingers roughly into her.
“Oh GOD!” Cheryl clenched around his fingers and started to pulse. Jon groaned and started to pound her harder.
“You like that, do you?” Jon asked, his voice rough with passion.
“Damn YES!” Cheryl whimpered.
Jon chuckled and flicked his thumb over her clit and Cheryl shattered into a thousand points of light. Her back arched so far Jon thought she’d break in two, and she had a death grip on his forearms. He worked her through the spasms until she was limp on the bed, thrashing her head back and forth.
“No, no, no, no, no, no...” Cheryl begged.
“Oh yes,” Jon said, and latched onto one pert nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth. The new surge of sensation sent waves of pleasure pulsing to Cheryl’s already throbbing core and a new flood made Jon’s movements much easier. “See?” he said smugly, talking around her nipple, “Told you so.”
He worried the little button at her core, teasing it softly, until her hips rose of their own accord to try to increase the pressure. He slid his fingers from her and maneuvered until he was laying prone between her spread thighs.
The first touch of his tongue on her hot flesh had Cheryl screaming his name. He gripped her hips with both hands and latched onto her clit, sucking it hard.
Cheryl thought she had died and gone to heaven. The sensations pulsing through her body were nothing short of miraculous. Every nerve ending was burning with a satisfying fire. She was so sensitive, that even the brush of his hair against her thighs heightened her pleasure. Her instinct to pull away from the intense assault was strong, but his firm grip didn’t allow for her to wiggle away. He dipped his tongue into her, curling it to touch that spot that threatened to make the room go black. She was so tense that she thought she would break in two. He kept her there, hovering on the exquisite edge of pleasurable pain and oblivion for what seemed like forever, until she breathed one word.
“Please.”
Jon reached up to pinch her nipples firmly between his fingers. He rolled them while he pushed his tongue farther into her, his teeth grazing her clit. When he felt her start to quiver around him again, he withdrew his tongue and focused on her clit. He nibbled on it, soothing his teeth scrapes with his tongue, and finally, when he felt her legs go stiff, he sucked hard, elongating the tiny appendage.
Cheryl’s hands fisted in the sheets on either side of her hips. It was either that or grab his hair, and she wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t pull it out by the fistful. The flood of sharp, fiery pin pricks raced up her tensed legs. They gathered strength in her womb before they flew out to every last cell of her body.
Jon waited until Cheryl’s muscles started to relax before he let her go. She was all but passed out in the middle of the bed. Her arms were flung wide and her legs splayed and rubbery. Her eyes were half-closed and completely unfocused. She looked completely sated. With a gentle kiss on her lips, Jon turned to the nightstand to snag protection, and quickly sheathed himself. He nudged her legs open wider and positioned himself between her legs.
“Bend your knees for me, baby,” he said. “That’s the way. Now open your eyes, Cheryl. Look at me.”
When she did, she nearly cried at the beauty of the sight before her. Jon was smiling down on her, his biceps bulging from the strain of holding himself up off of her. She watched as his eyes flicked downward for a moment to make sure he was aligned right, and watched them darken as he started to slide into her.
“Sweet fuck, Cheryl, you’re so fucking tight,” Jon gritted his teeth to keep from thrusting hard into her.
“It’s your own fault,” she moaned as he stretched her tender flesh. Her eyes started to glaze over again, and the lids grew heavy. They shot open, however, when Jon stopped.
“Keep your eyes open,” he said, allowing no room for argument. He flexed his hips and slid another inch into her, watching a bead of sweat run off her forehead. He leaned down to capture it with his tongue, and the shift in angle made Cheryl surge up and take him in, all the way to the hilt. “Jesus,” Jon hissed. He held himself perfectly still, wanting to control every aspect of his own release. Slowly, very slowly, he started to roll his hips.
“Jon,” Cheryl said, fear and surprise in her voice. Her eyes went wide and she gripped the forearms that framed her head.
“It’s alright, baby,” Jon crooned. “Just go with it.”
As she slickened, Jon was able to move more freely, and picked up the pace. His face was inches from hers as he stroked in and out of her. Within moments, she was matching him stroke for stroke, her hips rising up to meet him mid-thrust. The pressure that put on her clit was acute and with each bump she felt the room spin that much faster. “Oh God,” she moaned, her eyes starting to roll back.
Jon levered up onto his knees, spreading them wide, and pulled Cheryl’s calves up, draping them over his shoulders. He held on tightly, lifting her slightly to change his angle of penetration. He sped up, pounding her hard now. He felt his balls tighten as the slapped repeatedly into her overheated flesh. He leaned back just a fraction, making the tip of his cock angle up ever so slightly, and Cheryl split apart. She gripped him so hard he thought she would tear him off at the root. He continued to move in her, dropping her legs then his arms once again. He pistoned furiously, racing to catch the tail end of her orgasm with his own.
He won.
“Nice,” he said, closing the door behind him. He spun Cheryl around and crushed her to him, one arm wrapping around her hips, the other cupping the back of her head. Cheryl wound her arms around Jon’s neck and held on for dear life as the man who had fueled her fantasies for so many years made one of them come true. His mouth was hard, demanding against hers. Cheryl opened to him willingly, sliding her tongue along his. She rose on tip-toes to press the dull throb between her legs to his erection.
Jon turned them so Cheryl’s back was to the wall, and framed her face with his hands as he ground into her, his hips dipping and pushing in time with their tongues’ dance. When she whimpered, Jon ground into her harder. He rubbed more firmly against her, stroking her until she trembled in his arms.
Poised on the brink, Cheryl lost the strength to stand. Her knees buckled, and the only thing keeping her upright was Jon. Her head dropped back, even though it meant breaking contact with that delicious mouth, and it thunked against the door. Jon took advantage of the new skin presented for his tasting and latched onto the pulse point just beneath her ear. He could feel her pulse racing, pounding against his lips. Her fingers tangled in Jon’s slightly shaggy hair and gripped him tightly, holding him against her.
Smiling, Jon bit down on Cheryl’s neck, making her gasp. “No marks,” she implored, the only time thoughts of her husband would intrude on this night.
Jon slid his hands down Cheryl’s neck to the thin straps that held her dress in place. Slowly, he peeled them down, forcing her to drop her hands from his head. He pushed until the fabric of her dress barely clung to the very tips of her distended nipples. Arms pinned to her sides, all Cheryl could do was feel. She felt Jon’s lower body pull away from hers. She felt bereft and nearly sobbed until she felt his mouth start to skim down the column of her throat. He kissed across her neck, licking and sucking until he came to that spot where it met her shoulder.
Cheryl thought she’d died and gone to heaven. Jon’s lips were buttery soft and his breath on her skin was electrifying. The slight scrape of his teeth sent shivers down the length of her body, and caused her nipples to pucker more than they already were. Her dress had bound her arms to her sides, and she struggled to free them, so she could touch him. She wanted to feel his chest; to open the buttons on his Oxford shirt and scratch her fingernails through the fur there.
Her movements caused the dress to fall from the tips of her breasts, and it fell to the floor with a gentle swoosh. She didn’t care that she stood there clad only in panties and high-heels, now that her hands were free. While Jon continued his assault on her neck, his hands came up to cup her breasts; his thumbs rubbing gently across her peaks. Cheryl worked the buttons of Jon’s shirt until they were all undone, and pushed at the heavy cotton until it was gathered at his elbows. She studied him hungrily through lust-heavy eyes. His muscles were still very well-defined; the months since the tour hadn’t softened him yet. His pecs gave way to the hard ridges of his six-pack, and the deep vee of his hipbones begged for attention. Cheryl traced every inch of his chest with light fingertips, reveling in the small twitches he made and loving the contrast of the silky brown chest hairs with the wiry steel gray ones. When she ventured toward his hips he caught her wrists and raised them above her head, pinning them with one strong hand.
Jon kissed her hard as he squeezed one tender breast, testing its weight and loving how it fit into his hand. He pinched its tip, holding it between his fingers for long moments before gently pulling on it. When Cheryl gasped, he twisted it slightly, and he swallowed her moans of pleasure. He broke the kiss to smile at her, his eyes raking over her. “It would seem I am grossly overdressed,” he said. “What if I were to correct that?”
Cheryl laughed. “Mmm, yes, please,” she answered, her gaze flicking down to his belt.
Jon took a step back, letting Cheryl’s arms drop to her sides. She stepped out of the puddle of silk at her feet, and slid off her shoes. Jon unbuckled the heavy black leather belt and pulled it from the loops of his jeans, letting it fall noisily to the floor. When he put his hands to the button of his waistband, Cheryl padded forward and stopped him. She replaced his hands with her own and slid the button through its hole. As she lowered the zipper of his too-tight jeans, she sunk to the floor. She grabbed handfuls of denim and tugged, careful to ease the pants over his straining erection.
Jon toed off his shoes and kicked out of his jeans. Cheryl helped him out of his socks. She leaned down to trace the dragon on his ankle with her tongue. “I’ve always found this the sexiest tattoo,” she said, examining the ink thoroughly. She straightened on her knees and pushed at Jon’s waist.
Jon grabbed her hands and pulled her up. “Now you’re overdressed,” he chided. “We can’t have that.” He hooked his thumbs in the sides of her panties and pushed them downwards, kneeling to bring them down to her feet. He waited while she stepped out of them, then reached behind him to snag his jeans. He pushed her panties deep into one front pocket, withdrew a strip of condoms from the other, and discarded the pants again.
He looked up to see Cheryl looking at him, surprised he was prepared. At her unasked question, he said, “Would you rather we have to stop because we didn’t have protection?” She just shook her head. She didn’t care that he had gone to the bar prepared to get lucky. She was just glad she was the one he was getting lucky with. And that he had brought a whole strip.
Rising, Jon turned to consider the bed. With a growl, he tore the comforter off, sending the pillows scattering all over the room. He turned back to Cheryl, his eyes glittering in the pale lamplight. He crooked a finger at her and she obeyed, walking to him. He watched as she climbed onto the bed and lay on her side, propping her head on her hand. Jon followed, running a hand up her leg from calf to thigh, skimming over her hip to settle at her waist.
He loomed over her, urging her over onto her back. He kissed her deeply, pressing her into the mattress. He reached between her legs to find her wet and tested her readiness by thrusting two fingers roughly into her.
“Oh GOD!” Cheryl clenched around his fingers and started to pulse. Jon groaned and started to pound her harder.
“You like that, do you?” Jon asked, his voice rough with passion.
“Damn YES!” Cheryl whimpered.
Jon chuckled and flicked his thumb over her clit and Cheryl shattered into a thousand points of light. Her back arched so far Jon thought she’d break in two, and she had a death grip on his forearms. He worked her through the spasms until she was limp on the bed, thrashing her head back and forth.
“No, no, no, no, no, no...” Cheryl begged.
“Oh yes,” Jon said, and latched onto one pert nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth. The new surge of sensation sent waves of pleasure pulsing to Cheryl’s already throbbing core and a new flood made Jon’s movements much easier. “See?” he said smugly, talking around her nipple, “Told you so.”
He worried the little button at her core, teasing it softly, until her hips rose of their own accord to try to increase the pressure. He slid his fingers from her and maneuvered until he was laying prone between her spread thighs.
The first touch of his tongue on her hot flesh had Cheryl screaming his name. He gripped her hips with both hands and latched onto her clit, sucking it hard.
Cheryl thought she had died and gone to heaven. The sensations pulsing through her body were nothing short of miraculous. Every nerve ending was burning with a satisfying fire. She was so sensitive, that even the brush of his hair against her thighs heightened her pleasure. Her instinct to pull away from the intense assault was strong, but his firm grip didn’t allow for her to wiggle away. He dipped his tongue into her, curling it to touch that spot that threatened to make the room go black. She was so tense that she thought she would break in two. He kept her there, hovering on the exquisite edge of pleasurable pain and oblivion for what seemed like forever, until she breathed one word.
“Please.”
Jon reached up to pinch her nipples firmly between his fingers. He rolled them while he pushed his tongue farther into her, his teeth grazing her clit. When he felt her start to quiver around him again, he withdrew his tongue and focused on her clit. He nibbled on it, soothing his teeth scrapes with his tongue, and finally, when he felt her legs go stiff, he sucked hard, elongating the tiny appendage.
Cheryl’s hands fisted in the sheets on either side of her hips. It was either that or grab his hair, and she wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t pull it out by the fistful. The flood of sharp, fiery pin pricks raced up her tensed legs. They gathered strength in her womb before they flew out to every last cell of her body.
Jon waited until Cheryl’s muscles started to relax before he let her go. She was all but passed out in the middle of the bed. Her arms were flung wide and her legs splayed and rubbery. Her eyes were half-closed and completely unfocused. She looked completely sated. With a gentle kiss on her lips, Jon turned to the nightstand to snag protection, and quickly sheathed himself. He nudged her legs open wider and positioned himself between her legs.
“Bend your knees for me, baby,” he said. “That’s the way. Now open your eyes, Cheryl. Look at me.”
When she did, she nearly cried at the beauty of the sight before her. Jon was smiling down on her, his biceps bulging from the strain of holding himself up off of her. She watched as his eyes flicked downward for a moment to make sure he was aligned right, and watched them darken as he started to slide into her.
“Sweet fuck, Cheryl, you’re so fucking tight,” Jon gritted his teeth to keep from thrusting hard into her.
“It’s your own fault,” she moaned as he stretched her tender flesh. Her eyes started to glaze over again, and the lids grew heavy. They shot open, however, when Jon stopped.
“Keep your eyes open,” he said, allowing no room for argument. He flexed his hips and slid another inch into her, watching a bead of sweat run off her forehead. He leaned down to capture it with his tongue, and the shift in angle made Cheryl surge up and take him in, all the way to the hilt. “Jesus,” Jon hissed. He held himself perfectly still, wanting to control every aspect of his own release. Slowly, very slowly, he started to roll his hips.
“Jon,” Cheryl said, fear and surprise in her voice. Her eyes went wide and she gripped the forearms that framed her head.
“It’s alright, baby,” Jon crooned. “Just go with it.”
As she slickened, Jon was able to move more freely, and picked up the pace. His face was inches from hers as he stroked in and out of her. Within moments, she was matching him stroke for stroke, her hips rising up to meet him mid-thrust. The pressure that put on her clit was acute and with each bump she felt the room spin that much faster. “Oh God,” she moaned, her eyes starting to roll back.
Jon levered up onto his knees, spreading them wide, and pulled Cheryl’s calves up, draping them over his shoulders. He held on tightly, lifting her slightly to change his angle of penetration. He sped up, pounding her hard now. He felt his balls tighten as the slapped repeatedly into her overheated flesh. He leaned back just a fraction, making the tip of his cock angle up ever so slightly, and Cheryl split apart. She gripped him so hard he thought she would tear him off at the root. He continued to move in her, dropping her legs then his arms once again. He pistoned furiously, racing to catch the tail end of her orgasm with his own.
He won.
Spent and utterly satisfied, Jon dropped to the mattress beside Cheryl. He gathered her close and kissed her tenderly, tucking her under his arm. She lay on his chest, his heart thudding in her ear, tracing lazy patterns in his fur.
“Are we still playing what if?” Cheryl asked quietly.
“Sure thing,” Jon answered, stroking her arm with calloused fingertips.
“What if I told you that was the most amazing experience of my entire life?”
Jon stretched his neck so he could look down at her. “Then I’d have to say it was my ultimate pleasure to give it to you.” He kissed the crown of her head.
They lay there for a while, Cheryl lightly exploring Jon’s chest. She found if she scraped her fingernails across his firm brown nipples he’d hiss and squeeze her tight. She learned that the skin just under his hipbones was extremely sensitive, and when she slid her fingers over it, he twitched and laughed, telling her it tickled. She stroked his pubic hair, and was rewarded with a growl when she accidentally-on-purpose reached around to graze his balls.
Cheryl rolled to the side to pull a wad of tissues from the box on her nightstand. She took care of the condom, dumping the mess into the basket by the bed. She lay back down, happy when Jon raised his arm to let her back onto his chest. She planted a kiss on his nipple, and heard Jon’s sharp intake of breath. Emboldened, she pushed up onto her elbows, and did it again, sucking it into her mouth. Jon sighed and relaxed into the pillows.
She kissed her way down his chest until she was lying on his hard stomach. She circled the base of his cock with a gentle finger and smiled when she saw it start to twitch. She wrapped her hand around him and squeezed gently, then started to slide her hand up and down slowly. She felt the silky softness of his skin slide through her hand. When she reached the base of his cock, she squeezed. When she reached the tip, she swirled a fingertip into his slit. Over and over her hand moved until finally he was hard.
When she let go, his cock turned up slightly, wanting to lie on his stomach. This suited Cheryl just fine. She stretched her tongue and ran it along the slit, getting a brief taste of him. Jon moaned and shifted on the bed, flexing his hips to try to get her to take him into her mouth. Cheryl slid down a little, taking just the tip of him into her mouth. She sucked lightly, stretching the skin.
“Fuck, Cheryl,” Jon moaned, closing his eyes.
She smiled and lowered herself a little more, taking him halfway in her mouth. She drew back and kissed along the underside until she came to his balls. Lightly, she sucked one into her mouth, marveling at the heady, musky flavor. She licked up the thick vein to his cockhead again, licking up the pre-cum that was waiting for her.
Cheryl looked up at Jon. “What if,” she said, “I told you that you were utterly delicious?”
Jon laughed. “I’d have to ask you why you’re not going for the full meal.”
Cheryl chuckled. “Good question,” she said, and descended on him again. She took his full length into her mouth, swallowing instinctively when he hit the back of her throat. She slid her mouth up and down slowly, letting her lip-covered-teeth rub into him.
Jon’s legs tensed as the friction of her mouth started to get to him. He was trying to hold on to his control, but she was making it very difficult. He concentrated on the warmth of her mouth, and the slight pressure her protected teeth was providing. He could feel the pleasure start to ripple through his body. Each nerve the waves touched pinged, sending little sparks along to his brain. About ten seconds before he came, the sparks short circuited his brain, and all Jon could see was a blinding white light. He couldn’t form a sentence if his life depended on it. All he managed was a guttural grunt before his balls tightened and his legs stiffened.
Jon groaned as he pumped his seed into Cheryl’s mouth. She gripped the base of his cock hard, prolonging the pulse. She waited until he had stopped, and let him go with an exaggerated suck. She met his eyes and swallowed hard, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. Winking, she delicately wiped at the corners of her mouth and licked her fingertips.
“Mmmm, good,” she said.
When she reached for him again he yelped. “Later, baby. We have all night.”
Cheryl sighed and crawled up Jon’s body to curl under his arm again. “Yes, we do,” she said. “And knowing my girls, most of the morning as well. I can guarantee they won’t be stirring much before noon.”
Jon laughed. “Well then, we can take our sweet time in working our way through the rest of the condoms I brought.”
Cheryl smiled. “Sounds like a good deal to me.” She yawned widely. “Dammit, I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day, and…”
“Shhh,” Jon said, stroking Cheryl’s hair. “It’s alright. I’m not going anywhere.” He chuckled evilly. “Maybe you should take a little nap; gather some strength.”
She just laughed. “I’m fine, you’re the one who said he needed to rest.”
“Oh yeah?” Jon challenged. He turned over on his side and slid a hand up Cheryl’s leg. When he grazed her clit, she jumped. “Hmmm, you seem pretty sensitive to me,” he said. He withdrew his hand and licked a finger, keeping his eyes locked on Cheryl’s. When he slid the moistened digit into her, she squirmed. “You think you can take more?” he asked, smirking at her.
“Yesssss,” she hissed.
He withdrew his finger and lightly tapped her clit. “Are you sure?” He stroked her in gentle circles, watching as her eyes dilated and finally drifted closed. The keening in the back of her throat started softly, but grew as Jon’s hand picked up speed.
“Oh God,” she said, whimpering. “I’m so fucking close.”
Jon pressed down a little harder, and Cheryl screamed, levering up off the bed. Jon didn’t let up at all, even though he knew she couldn’t take much more. Her pulse was racing, and she was starting to hyperventilate. He latched onto a nipple and sucked while he drove two fingers into her, pumping her hard. The waves of her orgasm never stopped cresting; they only gathered strength, slamming her over and over. She felt as battered as if she was really stuck in a storm surge. The rolls of sensation finally overwhelmed her, and she whispered Jon’s name just before she went limp.
Jon gently withdrew his hand and smiled. Then he kissed her gently, pulled up the covers, and wrapped himself around her. Sighing, he closed his eyes. Moments later, he was asleep.
The pair jumped when they heard the door slam. “What was that?” Jon asked, disoriented.
Cheryl groaned, and wondered why she was so sore. Then she saw who she was sprawled over and smiled, remembering the last several hours. She kissed him, looked over at the clock on her bedside table and laughed. “Looks like it’s way past closing time.” She checked her phone. “That was the front door. We must not have heard my phone.” She had missed three text messages from Hath.
2:08am: CHER, We’re leaving, taking Obie home, be there in 2 hours. LUV, H
3:15am: C, Obie’s gone, we’re on the way. Put some clothes on. ~ H
3:30am: FUCK, Jon left me a voicemail; thought it was you. Tell him I’ll think about it lol ~H
She showed the messages to Jon, who burst out laughing. “You gonna put clothes on?” he asked her.
“No, they won’t come back here.”
Samantha saw the light shining from under Cheryl’s door, and nudged the other girls. “Looks like Cheryl and her extra company are still up.” They hadn’t missed the extra car in the driveway.
Hath chuckled. “CHERYL!” she yelled. “WE’RE GOING UPSTAIRS AND NOT COMING BACK DOWN UNTIL LUNCH! I’LL BUNK WITH QUEENIE!” Her room was next to Cheryl’s, and there was NO way she was going to try to sleep in there tonight.
Queenie laughed. “AND THAT’S QUITE A CONCESSION!” she yelled. “HATH SNORES!”
“Hey!” Hath said. “I don’t snore that bad!”
“Yeah, you do,” Queenie said, as they tromped up the stairs, making enough noise to wake the dead. In Cheryl’s room, she and Jon had their hands clamped over their mouths to hold in the laughter.
When the footsteps upstairs settled, and doors closed, Jon rolled Cheryl gently to her back. He kissed her tenderly while his fingers skipped over her sensitized skin. He teased her to the brink before protecting them and sliding into her once again. He rolled so he was on his back, urging Cheryl to sit up. She moved on him slowly, drawing out their pleasure.
Jon didn’t want slow.
He grabbed her hips and lifted her briefly before slamming her down on him. “Like that,” he grunted. Cheryl leaned over to grab the edge of the headboard, and used it for leverage. She rose and lowered on him, hard and fast. Her chin dropped to her chest as the heat of pleasure spread from the souls of her feet upwards. Her grinding motions became more pronounced as the passion stretched through her chest.
When the orgasm hit, Cheryl arched her back, thrusting her breasts in Jon’s face. He grabbed them and suckled, sending arrows of bliss from nipple to womb. Her arms couldn’t support her anymore, and she tore herself from Jon’s mouth to drape across her chest. “I just need...” She didn’t even get the whole thought out before Jon was flipping Cheryl on to her back and taking up where she left off.
He pushed through her tightening walls, the pressure heavenly on his aching cock. He could feel her ripple along his whole length, and he pressed into her harder, so he could feel the tiny pulse in her clit. He pressed harder still, so every last millimeter was buried in her. After a moment, he withdrew nearly all the way and slammed back home. Cheryl let out a scream, and Jon clamped a hand over her mouth.
“You don’t want the girls coming back down to see what’s wrong, do you?” he asked. Wide-eyed, Cheryl shook her head. “Then be a good girl and stay quiet.”
He removed his hand from her mouth, and withdrew again. Locking eyes with her, he slammed home, biting his lip at the intense feeling of her gloved hard around him.
“More,” Cheryl begged.
Again and again he slammed her. Cheryl had to stuff the edge of her pillow in her mouth to muffle the screams of pleasure. When she peaked again, bathing him in her juices, he started moving faster. Cheryl wasn’t sure she could possibly take any more; she was barely holding on to consciousness as it was. Jon’s face was a mask of lust and passion, inches from hers. In the pale lamplight, his eyes shone a dusty gray, and his sweat-dampened hair looked dark against his skin. His mouth was set in a cocky smile, like he knew she was having the fuck of her life.
Cheryl watched as his eyes started to glaze over. He started pounding harder as his own release approached. She wrapped her legs around his waist to change the angle of penetration just a little. Jon growled and re-doubled his efforts, thrusting like a madman. Cheryl’s eyes went wide as the tell-tale tingle started again. “Jesus,” she hissed, grabbing his forearms.
Jon didn’t have to ask her what she meant. He could feel her tensing again. If he timed it right they were going to share this one. He waited until her pelvis started to press into the mattress, and her back began to arch. He slipped an arm around her waist, pressing his whole body against hers. He moved only his hips, the gentle stroking in stark contrast to the rest of their lovemaking so far. Cheryl moaned and Jon shifted to capture her mouth in a kiss, their tongues tangling wildly.
When they crested, it was together, and they both paused in their kiss at exactly the same time. As the nearly visible passion-waves rippled outward from their bodies, their kiss resumed, though gentler. When at last their passion was spent, Jon rolled to the side, taking Cheryl with him. Cheryl was clinging to him tightly, not wanting to break the contact their bodies had, for fear it would set off another tremor that would send her into the black again. She didn’t want to miss any more of this night.
Long minutes later, Jon slid from Cheryl, her body reluctantly giving up its prize. She once again took care of the condom and snuggled into his chest, nearly purring with delight. Jon smiled and kissed the crown of her head, holding her tightly until he felt her relax against him. Only then did he allow himself to drift off beside her.
“Are we still playing what if?” Cheryl asked quietly.
“Sure thing,” Jon answered, stroking her arm with calloused fingertips.
“What if I told you that was the most amazing experience of my entire life?”
Jon stretched his neck so he could look down at her. “Then I’d have to say it was my ultimate pleasure to give it to you.” He kissed the crown of her head.
They lay there for a while, Cheryl lightly exploring Jon’s chest. She found if she scraped her fingernails across his firm brown nipples he’d hiss and squeeze her tight. She learned that the skin just under his hipbones was extremely sensitive, and when she slid her fingers over it, he twitched and laughed, telling her it tickled. She stroked his pubic hair, and was rewarded with a growl when she accidentally-on-purpose reached around to graze his balls.
Cheryl rolled to the side to pull a wad of tissues from the box on her nightstand. She took care of the condom, dumping the mess into the basket by the bed. She lay back down, happy when Jon raised his arm to let her back onto his chest. She planted a kiss on his nipple, and heard Jon’s sharp intake of breath. Emboldened, she pushed up onto her elbows, and did it again, sucking it into her mouth. Jon sighed and relaxed into the pillows.
She kissed her way down his chest until she was lying on his hard stomach. She circled the base of his cock with a gentle finger and smiled when she saw it start to twitch. She wrapped her hand around him and squeezed gently, then started to slide her hand up and down slowly. She felt the silky softness of his skin slide through her hand. When she reached the base of his cock, she squeezed. When she reached the tip, she swirled a fingertip into his slit. Over and over her hand moved until finally he was hard.
When she let go, his cock turned up slightly, wanting to lie on his stomach. This suited Cheryl just fine. She stretched her tongue and ran it along the slit, getting a brief taste of him. Jon moaned and shifted on the bed, flexing his hips to try to get her to take him into her mouth. Cheryl slid down a little, taking just the tip of him into her mouth. She sucked lightly, stretching the skin.
“Fuck, Cheryl,” Jon moaned, closing his eyes.
She smiled and lowered herself a little more, taking him halfway in her mouth. She drew back and kissed along the underside until she came to his balls. Lightly, she sucked one into her mouth, marveling at the heady, musky flavor. She licked up the thick vein to his cockhead again, licking up the pre-cum that was waiting for her.
Cheryl looked up at Jon. “What if,” she said, “I told you that you were utterly delicious?”
Jon laughed. “I’d have to ask you why you’re not going for the full meal.”
Cheryl chuckled. “Good question,” she said, and descended on him again. She took his full length into her mouth, swallowing instinctively when he hit the back of her throat. She slid her mouth up and down slowly, letting her lip-covered-teeth rub into him.
Jon’s legs tensed as the friction of her mouth started to get to him. He was trying to hold on to his control, but she was making it very difficult. He concentrated on the warmth of her mouth, and the slight pressure her protected teeth was providing. He could feel the pleasure start to ripple through his body. Each nerve the waves touched pinged, sending little sparks along to his brain. About ten seconds before he came, the sparks short circuited his brain, and all Jon could see was a blinding white light. He couldn’t form a sentence if his life depended on it. All he managed was a guttural grunt before his balls tightened and his legs stiffened.
Jon groaned as he pumped his seed into Cheryl’s mouth. She gripped the base of his cock hard, prolonging the pulse. She waited until he had stopped, and let him go with an exaggerated suck. She met his eyes and swallowed hard, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. Winking, she delicately wiped at the corners of her mouth and licked her fingertips.
“Mmmm, good,” she said.
When she reached for him again he yelped. “Later, baby. We have all night.”
Cheryl sighed and crawled up Jon’s body to curl under his arm again. “Yes, we do,” she said. “And knowing my girls, most of the morning as well. I can guarantee they won’t be stirring much before noon.”
Jon laughed. “Well then, we can take our sweet time in working our way through the rest of the condoms I brought.”
Cheryl smiled. “Sounds like a good deal to me.” She yawned widely. “Dammit, I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day, and…”
“Shhh,” Jon said, stroking Cheryl’s hair. “It’s alright. I’m not going anywhere.” He chuckled evilly. “Maybe you should take a little nap; gather some strength.”
She just laughed. “I’m fine, you’re the one who said he needed to rest.”
“Oh yeah?” Jon challenged. He turned over on his side and slid a hand up Cheryl’s leg. When he grazed her clit, she jumped. “Hmmm, you seem pretty sensitive to me,” he said. He withdrew his hand and licked a finger, keeping his eyes locked on Cheryl’s. When he slid the moistened digit into her, she squirmed. “You think you can take more?” he asked, smirking at her.
“Yesssss,” she hissed.
He withdrew his finger and lightly tapped her clit. “Are you sure?” He stroked her in gentle circles, watching as her eyes dilated and finally drifted closed. The keening in the back of her throat started softly, but grew as Jon’s hand picked up speed.
“Oh God,” she said, whimpering. “I’m so fucking close.”
Jon pressed down a little harder, and Cheryl screamed, levering up off the bed. Jon didn’t let up at all, even though he knew she couldn’t take much more. Her pulse was racing, and she was starting to hyperventilate. He latched onto a nipple and sucked while he drove two fingers into her, pumping her hard. The waves of her orgasm never stopped cresting; they only gathered strength, slamming her over and over. She felt as battered as if she was really stuck in a storm surge. The rolls of sensation finally overwhelmed her, and she whispered Jon’s name just before she went limp.
Jon gently withdrew his hand and smiled. Then he kissed her gently, pulled up the covers, and wrapped himself around her. Sighing, he closed his eyes. Moments later, he was asleep.
The pair jumped when they heard the door slam. “What was that?” Jon asked, disoriented.
Cheryl groaned, and wondered why she was so sore. Then she saw who she was sprawled over and smiled, remembering the last several hours. She kissed him, looked over at the clock on her bedside table and laughed. “Looks like it’s way past closing time.” She checked her phone. “That was the front door. We must not have heard my phone.” She had missed three text messages from Hath.
2:08am: CHER, We’re leaving, taking Obie home, be there in 2 hours. LUV, H
3:15am: C, Obie’s gone, we’re on the way. Put some clothes on. ~ H
3:30am: FUCK, Jon left me a voicemail; thought it was you. Tell him I’ll think about it lol ~H
She showed the messages to Jon, who burst out laughing. “You gonna put clothes on?” he asked her.
“No, they won’t come back here.”
Samantha saw the light shining from under Cheryl’s door, and nudged the other girls. “Looks like Cheryl and her extra company are still up.” They hadn’t missed the extra car in the driveway.
Hath chuckled. “CHERYL!” she yelled. “WE’RE GOING UPSTAIRS AND NOT COMING BACK DOWN UNTIL LUNCH! I’LL BUNK WITH QUEENIE!” Her room was next to Cheryl’s, and there was NO way she was going to try to sleep in there tonight.
Queenie laughed. “AND THAT’S QUITE A CONCESSION!” she yelled. “HATH SNORES!”
“Hey!” Hath said. “I don’t snore that bad!”
“Yeah, you do,” Queenie said, as they tromped up the stairs, making enough noise to wake the dead. In Cheryl’s room, she and Jon had their hands clamped over their mouths to hold in the laughter.
When the footsteps upstairs settled, and doors closed, Jon rolled Cheryl gently to her back. He kissed her tenderly while his fingers skipped over her sensitized skin. He teased her to the brink before protecting them and sliding into her once again. He rolled so he was on his back, urging Cheryl to sit up. She moved on him slowly, drawing out their pleasure.
Jon didn’t want slow.
He grabbed her hips and lifted her briefly before slamming her down on him. “Like that,” he grunted. Cheryl leaned over to grab the edge of the headboard, and used it for leverage. She rose and lowered on him, hard and fast. Her chin dropped to her chest as the heat of pleasure spread from the souls of her feet upwards. Her grinding motions became more pronounced as the passion stretched through her chest.
When the orgasm hit, Cheryl arched her back, thrusting her breasts in Jon’s face. He grabbed them and suckled, sending arrows of bliss from nipple to womb. Her arms couldn’t support her anymore, and she tore herself from Jon’s mouth to drape across her chest. “I just need...” She didn’t even get the whole thought out before Jon was flipping Cheryl on to her back and taking up where she left off.
He pushed through her tightening walls, the pressure heavenly on his aching cock. He could feel her ripple along his whole length, and he pressed into her harder, so he could feel the tiny pulse in her clit. He pressed harder still, so every last millimeter was buried in her. After a moment, he withdrew nearly all the way and slammed back home. Cheryl let out a scream, and Jon clamped a hand over her mouth.
“You don’t want the girls coming back down to see what’s wrong, do you?” he asked. Wide-eyed, Cheryl shook her head. “Then be a good girl and stay quiet.”
He removed his hand from her mouth, and withdrew again. Locking eyes with her, he slammed home, biting his lip at the intense feeling of her gloved hard around him.
“More,” Cheryl begged.
Again and again he slammed her. Cheryl had to stuff the edge of her pillow in her mouth to muffle the screams of pleasure. When she peaked again, bathing him in her juices, he started moving faster. Cheryl wasn’t sure she could possibly take any more; she was barely holding on to consciousness as it was. Jon’s face was a mask of lust and passion, inches from hers. In the pale lamplight, his eyes shone a dusty gray, and his sweat-dampened hair looked dark against his skin. His mouth was set in a cocky smile, like he knew she was having the fuck of her life.
Cheryl watched as his eyes started to glaze over. He started pounding harder as his own release approached. She wrapped her legs around his waist to change the angle of penetration just a little. Jon growled and re-doubled his efforts, thrusting like a madman. Cheryl’s eyes went wide as the tell-tale tingle started again. “Jesus,” she hissed, grabbing his forearms.
Jon didn’t have to ask her what she meant. He could feel her tensing again. If he timed it right they were going to share this one. He waited until her pelvis started to press into the mattress, and her back began to arch. He slipped an arm around her waist, pressing his whole body against hers. He moved only his hips, the gentle stroking in stark contrast to the rest of their lovemaking so far. Cheryl moaned and Jon shifted to capture her mouth in a kiss, their tongues tangling wildly.
When they crested, it was together, and they both paused in their kiss at exactly the same time. As the nearly visible passion-waves rippled outward from their bodies, their kiss resumed, though gentler. When at last their passion was spent, Jon rolled to the side, taking Cheryl with him. Cheryl was clinging to him tightly, not wanting to break the contact their bodies had, for fear it would set off another tremor that would send her into the black again. She didn’t want to miss any more of this night.
Long minutes later, Jon slid from Cheryl, her body reluctantly giving up its prize. She once again took care of the condom and snuggled into his chest, nearly purring with delight. Jon smiled and kissed the crown of her head, holding her tightly until he felt her relax against him. Only then did he allow himself to drift off beside her.
Cheryl was dreaming of Denis Leary. More specifically, seeing Denis Leary in concert. He was singing his signature song.
I’m an asshole (he’s an asshole)
I’m an asshole (he’s the world’s biggest asshole)
A-S-S-H-O-L-E
Everybody
A-S-S-H-O-L-E
I’m an asshole and I’m proud of it
She was puzzled. She didn’t even LIKE Denis Leary. What confused her more was Jon Bon Jovi was there on stage with Denis. She didn’t realize they were friends. He was on stage, talking on his phone, and she could hear him clear as day even though he didn’t have a mic.
“Rich, man, what the fuck do you want?” He shot a smile at Cheryl that had her heart pounding. Then he jumped off the stage and sauntered toward her. Just before he reached her, the fog started to lift, and she began to wake up. She opened her eyes and let out a little scream. Jon smiled at Cheryl and blew her a kiss. He covered the mouthpiece. “Sorry,” he said. “Just a minute more.” He turned his attention back to the caller.
“Who is that with you? Where are you, man? Do you have any idea what time it is? This is your get-outta-bed-free call, bro.”
Jon laughed. “Thanks, man, but I’m cool. I have no fucking idea what time it is. I was asleep, asshole.”
Cheryl burst out laughing. “Oh my GOD, that’s your ringtone for Richie? I wondered why Denis Leary was in my head.” She shook her head and burrowed down into the covers. She couldn’t quite believe Jon was still there in her bed all rumpled and achingly sexy. He had a hand tucked behind his head, making his bicep bulge, and he had the phone pressed to his ear . She thought last night must have been a tawdry dream, and thought for sure she would wake up to an empty bed.
Last night was tawdry. Definitely tawdry.
And a dream? Dream come true, maybe.
And he was still there. Cheryl smiled a little self-satisfied smile.
“Jon,” Richie said, “We’re all here at the studio, are you coming back today? Or should I tell the guys to get gone.”
“Hell NO don’t tell them to leave!” Jon said, winking at Cheryl. “You all need the practice. I’ll be back later. Right now, I have something to do.”
“Something? Or someone?”
“Do they have to be different things? I’ll call ya when I’m on my way back to your place.”
“Yeah, I won’t hold my breath.”
Jon flipped his phone closed and dropped it on the floor. “Sorry he woke you, baby,” Jon said.
“Sorry I feel asleep,” Cheryl said. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t want to do that.” She reached out for him, but snatched her hand back. Would things be different in the light of day?
“What are you being shy for?” Jon asked.
Cheryl shook her head. “Just being stupid, I guess.”
“Well, if you want to be stupid, that’s up to you, I guess. But come and be stupid over here, closer to me.” Jon pulled Cheryl to him and kissed her.
A thunder of footsteps overhead followed by gales of laughter had Jon and Cheryl chuckling. “Guess your friends are letting us know they’re up,” Jon said.
“Yeah, subtle they aren’t.” She sighed. “I guess we should get up?” She looked over at her clock. “It is after noon,” she said. “I’m surprised they haven’t…” Her thought was cut off by a shout from down the hall.
“CHERYL! I’m just getting my shit to take a shower. I’ll go back upstairs when I’m clean and dressed in different clothes!”
Jon laughed and yelled back. “HATH! I have to piss, gimme a minute before you get naked in there.”
“Son of a BITCH!” he heard from behind the door. “Yell when you’re done.” A door slammed and a fist pounded on the wall. “I’m in my room – go do your business.”
Jon shook his head. “She is one strange chick,” he said.
“Yeah, but that’s why I love her,” Cheryl said. She watched Jon climb out of bed, and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she watched him bend over to pick up his jeans. She didn’t think that would be a flattering angle for ANYONE, but she was wrong. He stepped into his jeans and zipped them, but left them unsnapped. He looked at her, raising one eyebrow in question.
“Across the hall from Hath’s room,” Cheryl said.
Jon smirked and strode from the room. He took care of business and took great pleasure in banging on Hath’s door on his way back. “All set, Hath,” he said. “You can strip down now, baby.”
Hath chuckled. “How do you know I’m not already naked? I had to sleep in my clothes, you know. They were pretty rank.”
Jon snickered and jiggled the door knob. “I guess I could come in and check…”
He heard a scream and felt something slam into the door. “Get the fuck away from my door!” Hath shouted. “CHERYL!”
Jon laughed outright and went back to Cheryl’s room. She had put on a robe and was brushing the snarls out of her hair in the mirror. “Do you want something to eat before you go?”
Jon just looked at her. “Tired of me already?”
“No!” Cheryl said. “Of course not. I just figured you have things to do and –”
“I know, and you’re right; I do,” Jon said. “I could eat, though.”
They got dressed and ventured out into the hall. They could hear the shower going and Jon banged on the door as they went past, and laughed at Hath’s yell. Cheryl pulled on his arm. “Cut it out,” she said, chuckling.
They went upstairs and surprised Tara, Queenie, and Samantha in the kitchen. The girls were each making different things for lunch and chatting about the night before. They were laughing about Obie and reliving the night. They didn’t realize they were being eavesdropped on until Jon cleared his throat.
“Was Obie really the highlight of the evening, ladies?”
The three women screamed and jumped. “Don’t DO that!” Samantha yelled. “Damn it, man, you do not keep a fan base by giving your fans heart attacks!” The three women raked their gazes over Jon, taking in his rumpled, day-after beauty. Each sighed to herself. Cheryl was one lucky bitch.
Jon laughed. “So, what’s for lunch?”
I’m an asshole (he’s an asshole)
I’m an asshole (he’s the world’s biggest asshole)
A-S-S-H-O-L-E
Everybody
A-S-S-H-O-L-E
I’m an asshole and I’m proud of it
She was puzzled. She didn’t even LIKE Denis Leary. What confused her more was Jon Bon Jovi was there on stage with Denis. She didn’t realize they were friends. He was on stage, talking on his phone, and she could hear him clear as day even though he didn’t have a mic.
“Rich, man, what the fuck do you want?” He shot a smile at Cheryl that had her heart pounding. Then he jumped off the stage and sauntered toward her. Just before he reached her, the fog started to lift, and she began to wake up. She opened her eyes and let out a little scream. Jon smiled at Cheryl and blew her a kiss. He covered the mouthpiece. “Sorry,” he said. “Just a minute more.” He turned his attention back to the caller.
“Who is that with you? Where are you, man? Do you have any idea what time it is? This is your get-outta-bed-free call, bro.”
Jon laughed. “Thanks, man, but I’m cool. I have no fucking idea what time it is. I was asleep, asshole.”
Cheryl burst out laughing. “Oh my GOD, that’s your ringtone for Richie? I wondered why Denis Leary was in my head.” She shook her head and burrowed down into the covers. She couldn’t quite believe Jon was still there in her bed all rumpled and achingly sexy. He had a hand tucked behind his head, making his bicep bulge, and he had the phone pressed to his ear . She thought last night must have been a tawdry dream, and thought for sure she would wake up to an empty bed.
Last night was tawdry. Definitely tawdry.
And a dream? Dream come true, maybe.
And he was still there. Cheryl smiled a little self-satisfied smile.
“Jon,” Richie said, “We’re all here at the studio, are you coming back today? Or should I tell the guys to get gone.”
“Hell NO don’t tell them to leave!” Jon said, winking at Cheryl. “You all need the practice. I’ll be back later. Right now, I have something to do.”
“Something? Or someone?”
“Do they have to be different things? I’ll call ya when I’m on my way back to your place.”
“Yeah, I won’t hold my breath.”
Jon flipped his phone closed and dropped it on the floor. “Sorry he woke you, baby,” Jon said.
“Sorry I feel asleep,” Cheryl said. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t want to do that.” She reached out for him, but snatched her hand back. Would things be different in the light of day?
“What are you being shy for?” Jon asked.
Cheryl shook her head. “Just being stupid, I guess.”
“Well, if you want to be stupid, that’s up to you, I guess. But come and be stupid over here, closer to me.” Jon pulled Cheryl to him and kissed her.
A thunder of footsteps overhead followed by gales of laughter had Jon and Cheryl chuckling. “Guess your friends are letting us know they’re up,” Jon said.
“Yeah, subtle they aren’t.” She sighed. “I guess we should get up?” She looked over at her clock. “It is after noon,” she said. “I’m surprised they haven’t…” Her thought was cut off by a shout from down the hall.
“CHERYL! I’m just getting my shit to take a shower. I’ll go back upstairs when I’m clean and dressed in different clothes!”
Jon laughed and yelled back. “HATH! I have to piss, gimme a minute before you get naked in there.”
“Son of a BITCH!” he heard from behind the door. “Yell when you’re done.” A door slammed and a fist pounded on the wall. “I’m in my room – go do your business.”
Jon shook his head. “She is one strange chick,” he said.
“Yeah, but that’s why I love her,” Cheryl said. She watched Jon climb out of bed, and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she watched him bend over to pick up his jeans. She didn’t think that would be a flattering angle for ANYONE, but she was wrong. He stepped into his jeans and zipped them, but left them unsnapped. He looked at her, raising one eyebrow in question.
“Across the hall from Hath’s room,” Cheryl said.
Jon smirked and strode from the room. He took care of business and took great pleasure in banging on Hath’s door on his way back. “All set, Hath,” he said. “You can strip down now, baby.”
Hath chuckled. “How do you know I’m not already naked? I had to sleep in my clothes, you know. They were pretty rank.”
Jon snickered and jiggled the door knob. “I guess I could come in and check…”
He heard a scream and felt something slam into the door. “Get the fuck away from my door!” Hath shouted. “CHERYL!”
Jon laughed outright and went back to Cheryl’s room. She had put on a robe and was brushing the snarls out of her hair in the mirror. “Do you want something to eat before you go?”
Jon just looked at her. “Tired of me already?”
“No!” Cheryl said. “Of course not. I just figured you have things to do and –”
“I know, and you’re right; I do,” Jon said. “I could eat, though.”
They got dressed and ventured out into the hall. They could hear the shower going and Jon banged on the door as they went past, and laughed at Hath’s yell. Cheryl pulled on his arm. “Cut it out,” she said, chuckling.
They went upstairs and surprised Tara, Queenie, and Samantha in the kitchen. The girls were each making different things for lunch and chatting about the night before. They were laughing about Obie and reliving the night. They didn’t realize they were being eavesdropped on until Jon cleared his throat.
“Was Obie really the highlight of the evening, ladies?”
The three women screamed and jumped. “Don’t DO that!” Samantha yelled. “Damn it, man, you do not keep a fan base by giving your fans heart attacks!” The three women raked their gazes over Jon, taking in his rumpled, day-after beauty. Each sighed to herself. Cheryl was one lucky bitch.
Jon laughed. “So, what’s for lunch?”
The girls finished fixing their lunches and prepared to go downstairs with their plates, to give Jon and Cheryl privacy.
“Do I smell or something?” Jon asked. “Where are you all going?”
Samantha laughed. “We’re not close enough to smell you, but we were trying to be subtle and give Cheryl and you some privacy. I assume you aren’t staying through the weekend?”
Jon chuckled. “As much fun as that would be, no, I have to go soon.”
“Well thank GOD for that,” Hath said as she came up the stairs, shaking out her hair. “You would totally spoil our weekend if you stayed.” She clapped a hand over her mouth and blushed. “Sorry, that sounded horrible.”
“Yeah, it did,” Jon agreed. He raised an eyebrow and just gave her the LOOK. The other girls smiled at Hath’s discomfort, and dug into their lunches, content to watch the show.
Hath nervously continued. “I mean, we sort of had a – uh – oh hell – ” she cast wary glances at her friends, “writing weekend planned, and while you would provide great inspiration by just sitting there…”
“Shut UP, Hath!” the others shouted, their lunches forgotten.
Jon just laughed, and Hath continued. “…we had sort of a bootleg extravaganza planned, and we can’t be all girly and rude with you in the room.”
“Girly and rude?” He looked at her curiously. “Care to elaborate?”
“Uh, no, not really,” Hath said.
“Oh come on,” Jon prodded. “How bad can it be? Come on, what does a bunch of die-hard fans do when you get together and watch bootlegs?” He rolled his eyes at that.
“Pretty much what we do at shows,” Tara offered, “only out loud.”
“Huh?”
“Jesus, you’re gonna make us say it?” Queenie added. She looked to Cheryl. “Cher, you tell him.”
“Well,” Cheryl said, then smiled evilly. “We’ll pretty much spend the weekend undressing you all with our minds and talk about all the things we want to do to you. We expound on your skill and the music of course, but mostly your various body parts. You know, your ass, Richie’s chest, Teek’s arms, and David’s thighs.”
Jon burst out laughing and looked around at the other women. None of them had bolted, but none would make eye contact with him, either. “Oh re-e-e-e-e-eally?” Jon said. “Well maybe I’ll have to stick around for that.” He pulled Cheryl down into his lap. “I’m sure I can think of things to do if that gets boring.”
“Not gonna happen, rock star,” Samantha mumbled. “You must have ovaries to be invited to this party, sorry.”
“I’m going for a walk on the beach,” Hath announced, face blazing. She stood, thrusting a hand in Jon’s general direction, still not looking at him. “It was beyond awesome meeting you, and uh, hell, I’m really looking forward to the next record.” Jon grabbed Hath’s hand and motioned for Cheryl to get up for a moment. He pulled Hath in for a quick hug, making her squeak, and planted a brief noisy kiss on her mouth.
“It was fun meeting you, Hath,” he said. “Richie’s gonna be sorry he missed meeting you. You guys would get along great. And I meant what I said in that voicemail, doll.”
“Oh hell,” Hath said. “No promises,” she muttered, and made her escape.
Queenie, Tara, and Samantha shared looks and stood. “We’re gonna go with Hath,” Samantha said to Cheryl. “Jon, it was fabulous to meet you again,” she said.
“Again?”
“We met briefly last year in Kansas City,” she said.
“That was YOU?” Jon gave Sam a once-over. “Damn. Did we do those things Hath wrote about?”
“No!” Samantha shouted, turning red. “I really need to go now,” she said. “I have to go hit Hath over the head with a rock and toss her body off the jetty.”
Jon laughed and opened his arms. “What, no hug?”
Samantha chuckled. “You bet your ass I’m taking a hug,” she said. “One of those kisses too, if you don’t mind.”
Jon complied and Sam left the room. Queenie and Tara looked at each other and at Jon. Jon looked ready to say something, but Tara held up a hand. “Please, I don’t want to know. Whatever you’ve read, I just don’t want to know.”
“Me either,” Stephanie added. “Please.”
“You guys are no fun,” Jon said. He passed out hugs and kisses, then turned to Cheryl. “Samantha won’t really kill Hath, will she? She seemed pretty pissed off.”
“Nah,” Cheryl said, settling back onto Jon’s lap. “It’ll be fine.” They sat in comfortable silence for a long time, listening to the waves crash to the beach. “So,” she said finally, sighing. “Look, I’m not good at the whole morning after thing, okay? Last night was just amazing, and I don’t want to ruin it by being all weird now, but dammit I don’t know what to say.” She was fiddling with her rings.
“’Salright, Cheryl,” Jon answered. He wanted to chuckle at her outburst, but didn’t think that would be a good idea. “You said it already. Last night was amazing.” He nodded to her hands. “You obviously have a lot on your mind, things you want to talk to your girlfriends about, and I should head back.”
Cheryl nodded, and reluctantly climbed off Jon’s lap. Hand in hand, they went downstairs so Jon could get cleaned up and get the rest of his stuff. She needed to dress as well. When they were ready, Cheryl walked him out to the car. She saw the girls up the beach, walking arm in arm in the surf. She’d join them soon, and they would talk her out of her guilt, because they were her friends, and any one of them would have done the same thing in her position.
Jon pressed a button on the remote, and the Ford chirped in response. He leaned on the hood of the truck and opened his arms. Cheryl went willingly, and snuggled into his chest. After a few minutes of taking in his scent and listening to his heart, she pushed back.
“Drive safe,” she said to him, smiling. Jon pulled Cheryl to him by the nape of her neck and kissed her hard. Cheryl grabbed Jon’s lapels to keep from slipping to the ground. “Damn,” she said. “You are dangerous.”
“Nah,” Jon said, before chuckling. “Just that good.”
Cheryl laughed loud and hard. “That you are. Okay. Bye, Jon. It was incredible meeting you.”
“You too,” Jon said, meaning it.
Cheryl stepped back to let him get into the truck. She watched as he put on his sunglasses, buckled his belt and flipped on the GPS. A minute later, he was hitching his right elbow over the seat to look behind him, and backed out into the street. With a toot of the horn, and one last devastating smile, he was gone.
~*~ THE END ~*~
“Do I smell or something?” Jon asked. “Where are you all going?”
Samantha laughed. “We’re not close enough to smell you, but we were trying to be subtle and give Cheryl and you some privacy. I assume you aren’t staying through the weekend?”
Jon chuckled. “As much fun as that would be, no, I have to go soon.”
“Well thank GOD for that,” Hath said as she came up the stairs, shaking out her hair. “You would totally spoil our weekend if you stayed.” She clapped a hand over her mouth and blushed. “Sorry, that sounded horrible.”
“Yeah, it did,” Jon agreed. He raised an eyebrow and just gave her the LOOK. The other girls smiled at Hath’s discomfort, and dug into their lunches, content to watch the show.
Hath nervously continued. “I mean, we sort of had a – uh – oh hell – ” she cast wary glances at her friends, “writing weekend planned, and while you would provide great inspiration by just sitting there…”
“Shut UP, Hath!” the others shouted, their lunches forgotten.
Jon just laughed, and Hath continued. “…we had sort of a bootleg extravaganza planned, and we can’t be all girly and rude with you in the room.”
“Girly and rude?” He looked at her curiously. “Care to elaborate?”
“Uh, no, not really,” Hath said.
“Oh come on,” Jon prodded. “How bad can it be? Come on, what does a bunch of die-hard fans do when you get together and watch bootlegs?” He rolled his eyes at that.
“Pretty much what we do at shows,” Tara offered, “only out loud.”
“Huh?”
“Jesus, you’re gonna make us say it?” Queenie added. She looked to Cheryl. “Cher, you tell him.”
“Well,” Cheryl said, then smiled evilly. “We’ll pretty much spend the weekend undressing you all with our minds and talk about all the things we want to do to you. We expound on your skill and the music of course, but mostly your various body parts. You know, your ass, Richie’s chest, Teek’s arms, and David’s thighs.”
Jon burst out laughing and looked around at the other women. None of them had bolted, but none would make eye contact with him, either. “Oh re-e-e-e-e-eally?” Jon said. “Well maybe I’ll have to stick around for that.” He pulled Cheryl down into his lap. “I’m sure I can think of things to do if that gets boring.”
“Not gonna happen, rock star,” Samantha mumbled. “You must have ovaries to be invited to this party, sorry.”
“I’m going for a walk on the beach,” Hath announced, face blazing. She stood, thrusting a hand in Jon’s general direction, still not looking at him. “It was beyond awesome meeting you, and uh, hell, I’m really looking forward to the next record.” Jon grabbed Hath’s hand and motioned for Cheryl to get up for a moment. He pulled Hath in for a quick hug, making her squeak, and planted a brief noisy kiss on her mouth.
“It was fun meeting you, Hath,” he said. “Richie’s gonna be sorry he missed meeting you. You guys would get along great. And I meant what I said in that voicemail, doll.”
“Oh hell,” Hath said. “No promises,” she muttered, and made her escape.
Queenie, Tara, and Samantha shared looks and stood. “We’re gonna go with Hath,” Samantha said to Cheryl. “Jon, it was fabulous to meet you again,” she said.
“Again?”
“We met briefly last year in Kansas City,” she said.
“That was YOU?” Jon gave Sam a once-over. “Damn. Did we do those things Hath wrote about?”
“No!” Samantha shouted, turning red. “I really need to go now,” she said. “I have to go hit Hath over the head with a rock and toss her body off the jetty.”
Jon laughed and opened his arms. “What, no hug?”
Samantha chuckled. “You bet your ass I’m taking a hug,” she said. “One of those kisses too, if you don’t mind.”
Jon complied and Sam left the room. Queenie and Tara looked at each other and at Jon. Jon looked ready to say something, but Tara held up a hand. “Please, I don’t want to know. Whatever you’ve read, I just don’t want to know.”
“Me either,” Stephanie added. “Please.”
“You guys are no fun,” Jon said. He passed out hugs and kisses, then turned to Cheryl. “Samantha won’t really kill Hath, will she? She seemed pretty pissed off.”
“Nah,” Cheryl said, settling back onto Jon’s lap. “It’ll be fine.” They sat in comfortable silence for a long time, listening to the waves crash to the beach. “So,” she said finally, sighing. “Look, I’m not good at the whole morning after thing, okay? Last night was just amazing, and I don’t want to ruin it by being all weird now, but dammit I don’t know what to say.” She was fiddling with her rings.
“’Salright, Cheryl,” Jon answered. He wanted to chuckle at her outburst, but didn’t think that would be a good idea. “You said it already. Last night was amazing.” He nodded to her hands. “You obviously have a lot on your mind, things you want to talk to your girlfriends about, and I should head back.”
Cheryl nodded, and reluctantly climbed off Jon’s lap. Hand in hand, they went downstairs so Jon could get cleaned up and get the rest of his stuff. She needed to dress as well. When they were ready, Cheryl walked him out to the car. She saw the girls up the beach, walking arm in arm in the surf. She’d join them soon, and they would talk her out of her guilt, because they were her friends, and any one of them would have done the same thing in her position.
Jon pressed a button on the remote, and the Ford chirped in response. He leaned on the hood of the truck and opened his arms. Cheryl went willingly, and snuggled into his chest. After a few minutes of taking in his scent and listening to his heart, she pushed back.
“Drive safe,” she said to him, smiling. Jon pulled Cheryl to him by the nape of her neck and kissed her hard. Cheryl grabbed Jon’s lapels to keep from slipping to the ground. “Damn,” she said. “You are dangerous.”
“Nah,” Jon said, before chuckling. “Just that good.”
Cheryl laughed loud and hard. “That you are. Okay. Bye, Jon. It was incredible meeting you.”
“You too,” Jon said, meaning it.
Cheryl stepped back to let him get into the truck. She watched as he put on his sunglasses, buckled his belt and flipped on the GPS. A minute later, he was hitching his right elbow over the seat to look behind him, and backed out into the street. With a toot of the horn, and one last devastating smile, he was gone.
~*~ THE END ~*~
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