The last few weeks in Europe were pure bliss for Jon. The shows went smoothly, they had enough time off to re-energize, release their responsibilities, especially since the fun police were absent. They had enjoyed the sun on a Mediterranean beach, visited Rome again, drank German beer--lots of it.
Jon felt good, had been getting lots of sleep. Good sleep. Sleeping in Richie's arms night after night. He knew it wouldn't last forever, Heather and Ava would be meeting them tomorrow, but that's ok, he'd cope. He'd spoken to his family several times, felt connected. Dot seemed to have lost interest in jerking him around. The world was good.
Tonight was no different than the last twenty or so, since they'd been this side of the Atlantic. And tonight's show went exceptionally well. He had switched up the set list, made it more interesting, no glitches, he hit all the notes, he liked it when he didn't have to think about what he was doing, like a well oiled machine. He could concentrate on after-show activities.
They'd showered at the venue tonight, had a small after-show party, not a big crowd, and now they were going to wind down a little more in the hotel bar. He exited the main interior of the arena with a group of others, including Richie, and walked into the outer shell where the cars were parked, waiting to whisk them back to the hotel.
Louie, one of the security guards, held the door open to one limo and Richie got in. Jon was almost right behind him when someone grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him back.
"I've got someone that wants to meet you Jon," Bruce, with a firm grip on Jon's arm, motioned for Louie to go on.
The car that Richie was in began to glide away. Jon looked after it wistfully. Damn. Jon furrowed his brow and looked down at Bruce's hand gripping his arm then turned and saw a man slightly older than himself with a younger girl following Bruce.
"Jon, this is Mr. Tom Elwyn, and his daughter Etta." Jon looked at the shy girl. He guessed she was thirteen or fourteen. A blonde haired blue eyed girl, very cute.
"Hi, how are you? Nice to meet you." He reached out to shake the man's hand, then the girl's. She awkwardly extended her hand and he grasped it gently, then wrapped his other hand around it. Her hand was shaking. He thought she might begin crying. He smiled at her and she was able to get herself under control. She had braces and a shy smile.
"We are sorry to detain you, you must be tired, I know I do not have the energy to do what I just saw you do on that stage." The man laughed, looking at his daughter, smiling. "Thank you so much for your generosity." He added.
"It's all right, you're quite welcome." Jon pushed thoughts of Richie out of his mind for now.
"I promised my daughter we would try to come backstage, and we were fortunate that you have kind people working for you." The man continued.
"I'm so glad you made it, I hope you enjoyed the show." He looked at the shy girl. She was smiling broadly now. He was making her dream come true right. She didn't say a word, just stared at him. The man handed a camera to Bruce, they snapped a few shots, then the man and his daughter were guided away.
Jon turned to Bruce, "Anymore?" he asked.
"No," and he pointed to another car. Jon got in and leaned his head back on the leather and closed his eyes all the way to the hotel. I think I'm out of the mood to go to the bar, I hope he doesn't mind. He smiled, his thoughts wandering to some of the past few nights. In Erfurt, they had done it on the balcony of one of their rooms, 40 stories up in the sky.
It had been kinda cold out there, but the sex was damn hot. He visualized Richie's face, he could almost feel it as he brushed his hand against his own warm crotch. He realized how aroused he was becoming as he thought of Richie's hot mouth on him. He better be ready when I get there because I'm horny as fuckin' hell.
* * *
Richie slid into the limo, immediately sensing the presence of someone already inside. The door shut with a solid thud and the car began to move. They'd left without Jon. It's a good thing because as his eyes grew accustomed to the dark interior he could see who was in the car with him. He felt his stomach flip. Oh shit. Oh holy fuckin' shit. His subconscious told him that Jon couldn't have known about this.
"It was a good show," she said.
"Yeah, we were pleased, the crowd was good tonight." He said in a strained casualness. Silence. He didn't move to hug her, didn't move a muscle. "I guess you're here to surprise Jon. He hadn't mentioned that you were coming."
"That's right. A big surprise."
Richie's heart began a hard rhythm. There had been a mix-up, Jon was supposed to get into this car.
"Wow, that's great. I'm sorry I got in before Jon, there must have been a mix up with the cars."
"No. No, you got into the right car." She said quietly.
"I thought you just said you wanted to surprise Jon."
"I did and I will. In due time."
She scared him. But he loved her too. Since he'd known her, he'd always admired the way she carried herself, confident, aggressive, could stand up to anyone. At times he'd been extremely jealous of Jon, having such a strong, stable force in his life for so long, until he finally found Heather, his own rock.
But Richie didn't kid himself, he'd lusted after her, especially before she and Jon married, it was his nature back then. Had wondered what she was like, still wondered, what kept Jon tied to her all these years. Because God knows, Jon could have any woman in the world. He knew she kept Jon in line, kept his feet on the ground, when he got too wild, she grabbed him by the nape and pulled him around. She knew how to take him down a notch, two if he needed it.
If it wasn't for her, Jon may have burned out a long time ago, another Jim Morrison or Kurt Cobain, a fiery light that burned so hot and bright it burned itself out. She kept him alive. Kept Jon's flame burning. Somehow. And now, she was sitting within three feet of him and he was scared shitless. That's it, that's how she kept him--Jon was scared shitless of her, too.
She had planned this, for him to get into this car, alone. He shifted uneasily in his seat. He kept his eyes on her and as she moved he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, get some oxygen to his brain.
She tossed something into his lap and he jumped a little.
"I think this is yours."
He picked it up and peered at it in the passing lights. A small jar of Vaseline. His heart jumped into his throat and he had to swallow hard to push it back down.
"Are you fucking my husband?" she was point blank. He didn't answer. Oh fuck. At this moment, Richie was having a hard time hearing, everything else in the world shutout except a small jar of vaseline in his hand. Don't blow this Sambora.
His conversation with himself went like this: Deny it. Are you fuckin' stupid, she'll mash you like a bug. Jon was right, she knows. Admit it then. What can she do to me? Nothing, but God help Jon. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. I'm dead. We're both dead. Party time's over.
They didn't have much time, they were getting closer to the hotel. She only waited another moment for a response. "It's ok. You can tell me the truth. It's much better that it's you than some strange slut."
The word slammed into his brain. Slut. I'm not a fuckin' slut.
"I'm not a slut." He was indignant.
"I know you're not, you're Jon's best friend. So am I. And he's my husband. I won't share him with anyone else. Except you. And I think you feel the same way. When I first suspected Jon was fucking around again, I was very mad. Very, very mad. I did some things to him that I probably shouldn't have. But when I figured out it was you, when I was sure, I wished I hadn't done those things. I regret it. I love him and I want to make it up to him. I want you to help me."
Richie was very skeptical. He wanted to trust her, but from how Jon had acted, not wanting to talk about his week before leaving for Europe . . .
She detailed her plan to Richie. By the time she finished they had been parked at the hotel for a few minutes.
"You don't have time to think about it, Rich, tell me now."
"I don't know what to say." He stammered. Shit, I don't know if I can go through with this.
"Ok." He couldn't believe what she'd just asked him to do.
She smiled. She reached over and stroked his thigh. He quivered under her touch. He opened the door. He looked at her one last time and got out, the body guard escorting him through the revolving doors of the hotel.
* * *
There was quite a bit of activity in the hotel tonight, a late night party in one of the ballrooms, people milling around dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns. Some glanced his way, stared, they spoke amongst themselves, but they stayed away.
Someone entered the lobby behind him and heads began to turn. It was Jon being escorted by two security guards. A murmur swept through the crowd, those who didn't have a clue who he was turned back to their own conversations. Many of the women openly ogled him as he passed. Jon ignored all, sunglasses hiding his eyes.
Richie waited at the elevators until Jon and his little entourage caught up. Jon smiled,
"Thanks for waiting," he said sarcastically.
"Sorry."
"What's wrong?" he asked as they entered the elevator.
"Nothing." Shit, can I do this? Do I want to do this? Of course you do, he needs you to do this. He looked at Jon's face in the reflection of the mirrors lining the elevator. He looked calm, rested, at ease. A knot formed in Richie's stomach. Please forgive me, man.
They reached their floor, the guard escorted them halfway down the empty corridor then headed back to the elevators, talking into a two-way radio. He walked in front of Jon, getting his keycard out. He felt Jon's finger run up and down his back, making him shiver. They went into Richie's room together, shut the door. Jon wrapped his arms around Richie's waist.
"How about we skip the bar tonight?"
"Sure, ok, give me a minute, ok?"
Jon let go, went into his own room through the adjoining door.
Richie went into his bathroom and splashed water in his face. Get a grip Sambora. He took off his jacket and threw it on the chair. He reached into the mini fridge for a beer. Jon came back and leaned against the doorframe of the adjoining doorway, a cigarette between his fingers. He had removed his shoes as well as his shirt and had fixed himself a bourbon on ice.
The light from a lamp in his room created a backlit halo in the smoke around his head. At that moment, Richie's brain decided to think about Heather. And Ava. He would see them tomorrow. He missed them terribly. What he was about to do would be over. And what happened tonight, well it would just happen. Fate would take its inevitable course.
His nerves were working against him, he stood rooted to the floor. Jon came forward, took a sip of his drink and a drag of his cigarette. He held both in the same hand. He hooked a finger of his other hand into Richie's waistband, tugging, reached up and kissed him on the lips. Barefooted and standing toe to toe with Richie, he had to tilt his head up to reach, almost stand on tip toe. Jon tasted like bourbon and cigarettes.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you all the way here. I worked myself into a fuckin' lather." Richie began to relax, Jon's tongue flickering between his teeth. He put his empty hand around Jon's body, leaning in, feeling the warmth between their bodies. Jon's tongue becoming more aggressive, breathing becoming quicker. Jon broke away and turned to go into his room.
He drained his drink and placed the empty glass on the television armoire. He mashed his cigarette in the ashtray and unzipped his pants. If I'm gonna do this, let's get this fuckin' train moving. Richie followed, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his shirt as he walked, switching his beer to the other hand when he had to.
He took another swallow and put his bottle down. He put his hand behind Jon's head and drew him in, pressing their bodies together as he sent his tongue searching for Jon's. Jon unfastened Richie's pants, pushing them down, releasing the hotness between his legs. Richie finished kicking them off, pushing Jon's down at the same time. Jon wiggled them off and they fell to the bed.
Richie moved to a sitting position, leaning against the headboard, supported by the pillows. He turned Jon's back to him, grasping his engorged cock, licking his neck, trying hard not to bite and make the marks he wanted to.
Jon let his head fall back on Richie's shoulder, eyes closed, focusing on the searing heat building in his cock, feeling the hotness of Richie's breath on his neck, on his ear, down to his shoulder. Hot shivers shot down his spine to his groin, making his legs quiver.
Jon heard the scrape of a keycard in the door. His head flew up. He reached for Richie's hands to still them. He heard the doorknob turn and the door open, then light from the hallway spilling through the door opening, a single shadow cast on the floor.
Shit, he'd not even thought about turning the deadbolt when he came in. He sat up straight between Richie's legs, the sheet only partially covering him. Richie sat up behind Jon, wrapping his arms around him. The door closed by itself as the intruder walked further into the room.
The figure stopped even with the adjoining doorway, the light from Richie's bathroom shining through, illuminating her face. Jon's heart froze.
The brain is a funny thing, so complex, so many nerve endings sending messages to all parts of the body, millions of minute transactions from grey matter to muscle, to lungs, to sweat glands, to digestive tract, all functioning smoothly, usually, until the brain's focus becomes pinpointed so narrowly, like a needle prick, on one object in the universe. Then time ceases to exist. All bodily functions seem to stop, breathing, blood flow. A total shutdown. His lungs seized up, his muscles stiff.
The room began to turn red, purple, the nerve endings firing up again as the adrenaline poured into his bloodstream. He closed his eyes to lessen the confusion in his mind.
Richie snugged his arms tighter around Jon, feeling Jon's body tense, muscles ready to spring. Jon tried to push his arms away.
God, help me here, Richie thought to himself.
Richie wrapped his arms around Jon even tighter. Don't panic, man. "It's ok," Richie whispered into Jon's ear. Jon's body was coiled tight, his eyes glued to the person standing before him. She took a step forward, dropped her leather coat on the floor and took a another step toward the bed.
Jon had gripped his wrist and was now squeezing it so tight, he thought his bones were going to snap. She pulled her dress over her head, threw it down and slipped out of her shoes. She had on a white lace bra and thong. She sat down on the bed in front of Jon. He followed her every move with his eyes. Richie whispered, "it's ok" again but Jon wasn't breathing, wasn't hearing.
He looked into his wife's face. She held up a finger and touched his lips. He flinched away. His fight or flight reflexes were too overwhelming for Richie, Jon pushed Richie's arms up and he launched himself off of him, scooting back and away on the bed.
Richie tried to make a grab for his hand but Jon was too quick. Richie looked over at Dot and she shook her head and moved in closer to Richie. Take it slow, he'll calm down.
She stroked Richie's leg and a hot shiver went through his body. She doesn't look very dangerous to me, he thought, in fact she looks very delicious at this moment. He glanced over at Jon. He was watching. I'll just have to convince him then.
Richie looked into Dot's eyes. Her expression was soft, wanting, he was taken aback. For a moment, he forgot where he was as he drowned in her dark eyes. Eyes like his. He let his gaze drop down her body. Firm, muscular, feminine. He wanted her. Wanted to feel her. Wanted to be inside her.
She placed her hand on his chest. Richie sucked in a breath. Now, God, time for you to help Jon, help him see everything is going to be all right. She leaned forward and kissed him, pushing him backward. Richie, putting his hands on her breasts, feeling the texture of the lace bra, her body underneath warm to the touch.
Jon blinked several times as he watched Richie's hands touch his wife. Richie's arms coming around Dot's back, unfastening her bra. The bra came loose and it was flung across the room, then the string of a thong.
She climbed on top of Richie and let him move his mouth over her skin, her breasts, dipping her head down to taste his lips, his tongue. His lips were hot, searching. Large and soft. Different than Jon's. Richie moved his hands to her firm ass, pushing her into him, dipping his finger down, feeling the slickness between her legs. His hands and fingers different than her husband's. His body, so different. She moaned into Richie's mouth.
Jon had watched his wife come in the door, into his room. He couldn't reconcile the fact that she was here, had seen him in Richie's arms, and for some reason, he was not paying dearly for it. It didn't make sense that now she was the one in Richie's arms, he was watching them. What in the hell is she doin' here? He watched them touch each other, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as if they had planned this . . .
"What the fuck is goin' on here?" Jon asked almost inaudibly.
They were making love, his wife and his best friend, in front of him, and damn well enjoying it. He felt the heat rising in his groin, sending a sharp throb into his balls, his cock. The sight of his wife on Richie, the man he'd been fucking the last three weeks, was so intoxicating. His stomach was in knots, his head spinning from the adrenaline rush.
She kissed the hair on Richie's chin, his nipples, Jon's hand going to himself, he couldn't help it, stroking himself, his breathing becoming ragged through his mouth as he watched his wife move down Richie's writhing torso, to his naval, traced her tongue down the trail of hair underneath to his erect cock.
She took the head into her mouth, her tongue rolling around it, licking. Richie's face contorted in ecstasy. Richie was holding Dot's head, fucking her mouth, coming hard into her. She moved back up to Richie's face and kissed him gently on the lips, whispered thank you in his ear so only he could hear it. He smiled and kissed her. She moved toward Jon, he dropped his hand and tensed.
"It's ok, hon." She said. She lifted a finger to touch his lips and he reached and grasped it before she could make contact. He just couldn't make it mesh yet, Richie and her, just fucking like they'd done it before. She licked a drop off of her bottom lip and kissed him, letting her tongue out into his mouth, letting him taste Richie in her mouth. What the fuck is goin' on repeated itself like a broken record in Jon's brain.
She put her lips to his ear and whispered, "I love you hon, and I'm sorry."
He felt a sting in his eyes, the hot rush of tears. He looked into her eyes and saw the fire in them that kept him coming home. He let out a breath. She pulled him to her, ran her other hand down his hard stomach, fingers feathery on his cock. His body began to relax, he leaned over, pushing her back on the bed. But she didn't want to go where he was directing her. She was still in control of this.
She pulled him to Richie and made Jon let go of her. Jon reached for her but she moved out of the way looking at Richie. Jon hesitated. Don't make me think, I can't think, don't want to think to hard about this. Why is she looking at Richie. Then it dawned on him. She wanted to watch. She wanted to watch him be fucked by his lover. A rush of heat went through his chest.
He slowly slid over the stained sheets to Richie. Richie leaned over and opened the night table drawer, reached for the lube and squeezed some out. He pulled Jon over, on top of him, making him spread his legs to straddle him. Their cocks banged against each other as Jon bowed his head to kiss Richie.
Dot sat near the end of the bed watching in mute fascination, trailing her finger over her hard nipples, up and down her belly. Watching her husband and his lover, his best friend, in a tight embrace, about to fuck. Her hand moved to herself, she could feel her orgasm building.
Jon closed his eyes, blocked out the room, felt Richie's hot tongue with his own and the sharp hot quivering that grew stronger in his belly. Richie reached around Jon's ass, keeping the lubed finger tucked away, pressing his hands against the muscles of his buttocks, then he slid the slick finger down, probing, finding what he was looking for.
Jon groaned as Richie inserted it. It was tight, Jon was tensing. Richie began kissing him again. Jon's breathing becoming rapid as Richie worked his finger in, loosening the tight ring of muscle. Jon gasped as Richie's finger swept past his prostate. Richie worked a little more, inserting another finger until he felt Jon was ready.
He lifted him up slightly, Jon helped him position himself and let Richie begin to slide in, letting his weight down on him slowly. A gurgled, growling sound emanated from deep within Jon's throat. Richie groaned as his cock slid up and down the tight hot hole. Richie gripped Jon's hips, moving him with a slow rhythm, then increasing the motion until his body spasmed and he came with a hot rush into Jon.
Jon felt a hot tongue in his neck, Richie's was in his mouth. Richie's hand was on his cock, then he felt his wife's breasts against his back, every part of his body being touched by one or the other. Richie reached out beyond Jon and touched her. Jon sandwiched between the two. Richie's hot body in front of him, her warmth behind him. Jon's head was swimming.
Dot was here, with him and Richie. In bed. He kept his eyes closed, let them do what they wanted to with him. He felt them change places, he was being pulled off Richie, now he was on his back, against the headboard. He opened his eyes, his wife climbing over his legs. She straddled Jon, spearing herself with him, he felt himself slide into her moist slit. She was moving up and down, working her own rhythm, Jon letting her take over, letting his orgasm build.
She arched her back letting her head fall as she let out a silent scream, her juice flowing down onto Jon. Jon seeing that Richie was hard again, watching them. Jon's breathing quickened, then caught in his throat as his orgasm rocked his body into spasms, his come shooting hot.
When Jon woke up, he was surrounded by warmskin, his arms wrapped around Dot's in front of him, he was in turn being held by Richie from behind. He wondered what was going to happen tomorrow when Heather arrived. The possibilities seemed endless. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.