It was getting close to midnight. It had been a particularly stressful day in the studio at Jon's house, mixing and remixing, no one agreeing on anything and everyone getting on everyone else's nerves. They recorded two or three good ones, but one song, they played over and over, and finally decided to do an acoustic version.
For some reason, Richie wanted to argue every point on that one. Jon countered him and it got a little heated at times. Tico, David, Hugh, Obie and Luke were gone now, only Jon and Richie were still there at the console. Still pondering a filler note here, a guitar lick there--it was a B-side for Christ's sake. Both at the edge of not giving a damn anymore.
They were sitting in silence, enough words had been exchanged during the course of the day. Sometimes they never came to an agreement. Jon always made the final decision. He rubbed his face, ran his hand through his hair, got up and went to the fridge and got two beers and came back. He handed one to Richie. Richie stopped staring at the console long enough to look up and take the beer.
"Thanks, but got anything stronger?" he asked sarcastically.
"Sure, whadya want?"
Not waiting for an answer, not really expecting one, Jon turned and walked back to the bar and poured two shots of Tennessee whiskey into two plastic tumblers, a blue one and a green one, grabbed the bottle and returned to the console. He handed one to Richie.
"Cheers."
"Cheers."
They touched glasses and then bottomed up at the same time, swallowing hard. Jon leaned against the counter, lit a cigarette and poured them another. They continued smoking and swigging the shots one right after the other. After the fourth or fifth round (neither was counting), Jon sat back down, blew out a last exhale of smoke and stubbed out his cigarette.
He turned his chair toward Richie's, propping his feet on one of the arms of Richie's chair. Richie smiled as he sipped his beer and did the same with his feet, making a bridge of legs between the two chairs.
"I think we're finished with these songs, man. We keep fuckin' with 'em, we'll mess 'em up, or get tired and toss 'em."
"I agree, let's put it to bed," replied Jon.
"Good," said Richie. They sat sipping their beers in silence.
"What time Dorothea and the kids gettin' back?"
"Tomorrow, noon or around."
The whiskey was beginning to take effect, taking the edge off, mellowing the mood. Jon's foot slipped off the chair arm and landed in Richie's crotch, making Richie jump a little.
"Hey, man, whatchit."
"Sorry!"
But Jon didn't move his foot. The drink was making him have silly thoughts. Maybe it was the fatigue or low blood sugar, he hadn�t eaten since when? Maybe it was all of the above. Instead of removing his foot, he impulsively began to rub Richie's crotch with his toe.
Richie's eyes shot a look at Jon. Jon had a wicked grin on his face. Richie wasn't sure what to do. What's going on here? he thought, and continued to look into Jon's eyes. It was beginning to feel real good and he could feel himself getting hard. Jon could feel it too. He didn't know why he kept doing it. He was getting turned on by Richie�s hard on. Maybe he wanted to see how far it would go.
Richie purposely moved his foot to Jon's lap and started mimicking Jon's motions. Jon couldn't control his gasp as he sunk lower in his chair, increasing the pressure of Richie's foot against his now hardening cock. He let his head drop back, breathed out a low moan, then sat up and moved his chair forward toward Richie. He moved Richie's legs apart and leaned forward and brushed his lips against Richie's. Warm breath gliding over the skin of each other's face.
Two can play this game. Richie sucked in a breath and grabbed Jon behind the neck and pulled him in for a full, wet kiss. Jon groaned and thoroughly explored Richie's mouth with his own tongue. Their kissing was becoming more aggressive, neither seemed to be able to get enough of this new sensation, this new, equal partner. Richie's hand relaxed behind Jon's neck and he let it slide down Jon's shoulder, his shirt, against his stomach. Jon's breathing became more ragged.
Richie tugged on the waistband of Jon's jeans and the button gave way. Jon stopped kissing and looked directly into Richie's eyes. Now was the moment of truth, either go forward and explore this new territory, or stop, and blame it on the stress, the whiskey, and forget it ever happened.
"What do you want me . . . to do?" Richie asked tentatively. Jon was still leaning forward, they were face to face, his hands on the arms of Richie's chair, his breathing slightly labored, Richie's hand resting on the hard hot bulge in Jon's jeans.
"What do you want to do?" Jon asked back as he tilted his head slightly. He really didn�t have any clue as to the magnitude in which he affected other people.
The slight movement did not go unnoticed by Richie. The head tilt, the slightly parted lips revealing those shocking white teeth, the wisps of blonde hair framing that fucking beautiful face, the face that the world went ape shit over, those blue eyes boring a hole through his soul-- it was all too much for Richie to bear.
"I think . . . I want to fuck your brains out." Richie licked Jon's lips, then parted them with his tongue and sucked long and hard on Jon's tongue, then proceeded to bite and lick at Jon's bottom lip, his neck, his ear lobe. Moaning, Jon leaned back and let Richie unzip his jeans. Without any underwear to hinder it, Jon's erection leapt out and Richie grabbed it and started a slow pump, massaging, working it good.
"Shit, oh god," gasped Jon. Jon hadn�t flinched when Richie�s hand wrapped around him, he wanted it, he wanted this. But why? Were they that drunk? They hadn�t had but half the bottle of Jack. Maybe three quarters. What the hell, it didn�t matter--he was sinking into a realm that he had never experienced before. Those thoughts evaporated instantly when Richie began that slow, exasperating massage on his engorged cock. Never had he been this turned on by a groupie, girlfriend, or even his wife.
"Don't get in a hurry, now." Richie whispered in Jon's ear. Jon took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"I'll go where you take me . . . when you take me," he said.
Richie couldn�t believe he was feeling this way, but why be surprised? The rest of the world wanted to be in this very same position, he had just never considered it--had taken for granted the fact that he was the closest person on earth to Jon. Closer than Dorothea. What about his own wife, Heather? Shit, what did they think they were doing here?
He glanced at Jon�s face and that look of pure pleasure made something inside him melt.
Jon wrapped his arms around Richie's waist and pulled him closer. Jon's cock was against Richie's stomach. Richie could feel the hotness through his shirt. Richie stopped his caresses and pulled at Jon's t-shirt, Jon helped tug it over his head, then pulled Richie's t-shirt up. Jon worked his own jeans down while pulling on Richie's sweats.
Richie slid out of them while Jon watched. Jon ran his hands over the lean muscles of Richie's stomach and down the line of hair, cupped Riche's balls with both hands, massaged his cock until Richie was growling. It was Richie's turn to lean back and enjoy Jon's finger's firm grip, knowing where to touch, how hard to squeeze, the right stroke tempo. Richie's hips moved with the strokes, he knew he was about to come.
"God, I can't hold it." Jon stopped pumping and ran his tongue down Richie's body, until his head hovered over Richie's cock. He licked his lips, ran his tongue over the tip, tasting the pre-come. Richie thrust his hips up to meet Jon's mouth and Jon obliged by taking him in, inch by inch. Richie felt the warm wetness of Jon's mouth, his tongue tickling his cock as it slid down, deep down.
Richie's cock was all the way down Jon's throat when he came, pumping, emptying everything he had into Jon. He grabbed Jon by the hair and pulled his face up to meet his for a long, deep kiss, tasting the saltiness of himself. Jon rested his forehead on Richie's shoulder. Richie smoothed Jon's hair, put one hand on each side of his face, picked up his head and looked into those deep blue eyes.
"Your turn brother," he said.
All inhibitions long gone, Jon smiled his dazzling Jon smile and offered his mouth to Richie. Richie razed Jon�s mouth brutally with his tongue. Richie pushed Jon back in the chair and kissed Jon's warm chest, his hard nipples, one at a time, kissed his belly button, swirled his tongue around in it and dragged it down the path of hair leading to Jon's pulsing cock. Jon was having a hard time controlling the urge to cry out.
Richie teased the head of Jon's cock with his tongue, small lashes at first, then big hard sucks, enveloping the first few inches in his mouth. Jon let out a yelp and ground his hips up and down, fucking Richie's mouth. He tangled his fingers in Richie's hair and pushed his head up and down on his cock, fucking Richie�s mouth until he couldn't hold it. Gritting his teeth, pushing his hips, he exploded into Richie's mouth, come dripping down Richie's chin. Richie licked the drops and laughed.
"Good boy, but next time, see if you can hold it a little longer." Jon lay back in the chair, eyes closed, breathing hard, savoring the orgasm. He let go of Richie's hair and opened his eyes casting them down towards the floor.
"Next time?" Jon murmured.
Richie's cock was growing hard again and he too, had lost any inhibitions he may have had before tonight.
"Yeah, like now is a good time for next time,� he growled.
He pulled Jon up out of his chair and made him straddle his lap, Jon's legs splayed out behind Richie's chair, Richie's hard cock announcing itself between their bellies. Jon began kissing Richie roughly, an occasional teeth knock, biting, razor stubble leaving sandpapery burns. He acted like he wanted to devour Richie's face.
Jon was well on his way to becoming aroused again as well. Richie's hands kneaded Jon's ass, his fingers working their way towards Jon's asshole, gently probing, exploring. Jon paused, drew a breath. Richie hesitated. He wanted to make sure it was ok to proceed. Jon leaned down again, his hair falling around his face, kissing Richie, the signal to keep going, softly moaning as Richie's fingers moved in and out of Jon's hole.
Richie grabbed Jon under the thighs and lifted him up slightly, enough to slide his cock under and position it at the entrance. Nudging, ever so slowly he entered. Jon's head flings up and back, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut.
"Oh god, I can't . . . I . . ., " Jon wailed.
�Does it hurt? Should I stop?� Richie asked softly. Stopping was the last thing he wanted to do, this was the tightest ass he�d ever fucked in his life. Too bad they didn�t have any Vaseline or K-Y handy. Jon�s head was thrown back, eyes closed, teeth gritting, jaws grinding, now. Yes, it hurt, but goddammit it was the most exquisite pain he had ever experienced.
�Go slow,� was all he could whisper.
Richie thrusted slowly, methodically, each upward movement sweeping past Jon's prostate, he was holding Jon's hips, controlling the grinding, up and down motion.
"God, so tight, so good," Richie hissed through clenched teeth. Richie started to gnaw on Jon's neck--proceeding to bite and suck, leaving telltale marks. He comes for the second time tonight, at the same time Jon does. Jon slumped forward and rests his head on Richie's shoulder again. Richie leans back in the chair, hands falling to the outsides of Jon's thighs. Both men breathing hard, recovering.
"You're so easy, I wouldn't have thought that about you, man." Richie laughed, toying with Jon�s come on his stomach. Jon looked up. Richie reaches up and pushes Jon's hair out of the way.
"NO, you're wrong," Jon smiled and tried to sound macho, "I can go hours without coming with Dorothea." Dorothea. Shit, what has he done? His tone softened, and he looks down, trying to hide his eyes, "You know, been with the same woman thirteen or so years now, it's just not challenging if you know what I mean."
He looked back up into Richie's eyes. Those deep brown eyes that he�s looked at for twenty years now. Those eyes are saying something different to him at this moment. This man knows everything about him. Or he thought so. Until now. Secrets that they�ll take to the grave. And seems they have another secret now. The thought of this deep secret jerks Jon�s cock awake.
"But you on the other hand . . ." There�s that crooked smile again. Damn his ass hurt.
"Yes, I'm listening." Richie touched Jon's lips with his finger. Jon licked it, sucked it.
"This is something different." He sucked the finger again. "I didn't know it could be so damn good." He was getting harder.
"Me either, but you haven't gone all the way here partner." He removed his finger from Jon's mouth.
"No I haven't." a glint in Jon's eyes, lips fluttering over Richie's.
"Let's see if we can remedy this situation." Richie gave Jon a little push to help him off the chair. Jon stood slowly, his ass was sore, but his erection standing at attention now. Richie stood and gave it a playful stroke, pinched the head. His cock growing again.
"Let's try the bed this time."
"Lead the way partner." That dazzling smile lighting up his face.
* * *
They proceeded to get dressed and rode the golf cart up to Jon's house.
Jon drove in silence, gliding the hundred yards or so down the path. The house was dark, except for the light on the patio at the kitchen door. The door was unlocked, they had left it that way earlier in the day when some of them had wandered in looking for something to eat.
The staff was off since Dorothea and the kids had left early yesterday. Jon had the house all to himself for almost two days, while the rest of the family visited Dorothea�s relatives in Pittsburgh. He stayed home to work. He did that a lot. Shit, he�d be a workaholic if he was a garbage man. He was just like that.
He joked that she had spun the wheel of life and landed on �rock star.� But he was just Jon--just Dad--at home. All the trappings of the rock and roll lifestyle left at the gate to the estate that they had built together a few years ago. He thought she was truly his equal, didn�t take any shit off anybody, including him. Could probably kick his ass if she wanted to. He really loved her, his best friend. But now he and his other best friend had crossed a line. What line that was, he didn�t quite know.
Richie had flown in that morning and had planned to stay at Jon�s that night. The rest of the band had drifted in by mid morning. They had gotten a late start in the studio, for one reason or another, they just couldn�t get anything nailed until late afternoon.Then the disagreements began. It was okay. That�s what made the band so vital after all these years. Everyone really did give a damn. But they were finished with these tracks and they were leaving next week for a month-long tour in Europe.
Wow, Jon thought, a month away from everything normal. A month with Richie. Wow. Wild images careening through his brain, he was sure he was losing his mind. With anticipation, his hand brushed his crotch and a warmth crawled up into his belly. He rubbed his hardening rod and knew he was in trouble, there was no turning back. He didn�t want to. He�d experienced a lot of different things in his lifetime, but sex with another man was something new, dangerous, amazing.
They were on their way upstairs, in the dark, Jon leading the way up the wide staircase. Instead of turning right at the top toward his own bedroom, he turned left and walked down the wing of the house that lead to a series of guestrooms. He slowed and Richie stepped up right behind him and wrapped his arms around Jon�s waist. Richie began nibbling at Jon�s left ear. It sent a shock down Jon�s body.
Jon could feel Richie�s cock rubbing against his sore ass. Jon�s cock was stiff and pushed upward trying to get out of his jeans. They stepped together over the threshold into the room and closed the door. The light was on in the bathroom that adjoined this room. The door was partially closed and the dim luminance revealed a queen sized antique poster bed covered in dark blue bed linens.
A leather travel bag rested on the far side of the bed. Jon closed his eyes as he felt Richie�s hard rod prodding him, it was not as confined in sweatpants. Still standing behind Jon, Richie�s hands moved down and unzipped Jon�s jeans. He continued to chew on Jon�s ear and neck, burying his face the soft blonde hair. Shivers ran up and down Jon�s spine, making is body tremble.
Richie pushed the jeans down and at the same time, forced his hands down Jon�s pants. He encased Jon�s hard on with both hands. Jon placed his own hands over Richie�s and together they slowly worked Jon�s rock hard cock. Jon inhaled sharply. He was coming. Richie knew it but wasn�t about to let it happen this quick. He let go and tore his clothes off.
�What . . .?� Jon�s eyes flew open at the sudden abandonment.
�You�re doin� it again buddy, gettin� in a fuckin� hurry,� Richie teased as he turned Jon around to face him and helped him pull the rest of his clothes off. He pushed Jon backwards toward the bed and gave him a shove which forced Jon to sit down. Richie climbed on top of Jon straddling him. He ran his hands through the silky hair on each side of Jon�s head and pulled his face up for a soft kiss.
He gazed into those impossibly blue eyes and willed himself not to come just looking at the sheer beauty of what he held in his hands. Jon grabbed each side of Richie�s hips and he began rocking, rubbing their cocks together. The sensation was overwhelming and he had to stop.
He laid back on the bed with Richie hovering over him. Richie rose up on his knees, still straddling Jon, and he reached over Jon�s head to his overnight bag sitting on the other side of the bed. He reached into an zippered pocket and pulled out a small jar of Vaseline.
�You carry Vaseline around?� Jon asked incredulously.
�Actually, its Ava�s. Used to use it for diaper rash. Can�t stand that white stuff. It�s just been in that bag for a while,� Richie replied sheepishly.
Jon laughed and covered his face with his hands, yeah he knew all about diaper rash lately and yanked the plastic jar out of Richie�s hands. His concentration returned to the matter at hand as he slathered the jelly over his cock, wincing at the coldness of it.
He tossed the jar aside and slipped his hand under Richie�s balls, his slick fingers searching for that special place. Richie gasped as he felt Jon�s fingers enter him. He immediately wanted Jon�s cock up him, hard and rough. He was ready. Jon�s fingers slid in and out of Richie�s asshole at will, one finger, then two. He lifted his cock with his right hand and it slid in easily. Richie leaned back suddenly and Jon�s cock rammed into him.
�SHIT!� Jon screamed as his cock was squeezed into that tight place. Richie put his weight on his knees and lifted himself up and sat back down again, ramming Jon�s cock all way in. Jon felt as if he�d never fucked before. As Richie held himself over Jon, both hands on the bed, one on each side of the singer�s head, he leaned down and licked those luscious lips, and when the lips parted, he licked those shining teeth, then that tongue, never closing his eyes, searching for the look in those blue eyes that would tell him they�ve reached a place they�ve never been before.
Richie let out a gargled expletive. Jon couldn�t catch his breath. Jesus fuckin� Christ, I am easy because I can�t hold it, Jon thought as his eyes rolled back and the mother of all orgasms ripped through his body. He screamed and clenched his hands around Richie�s ass as Richie pulled his weight up enough for one more stroke, then sat back down again. Stars and rockets washed over Jon�s brain as he came with such force he thought he was going to faint. Richie sat there, waiting for Jon to recover. There it was, when Jon�s eyes finally fluttered open, their gaze fixed neither here nor there, mission accomplished.
Richie climbed off Jon and lay down beside him. Jon turned his face toward Richie, drowsiness taking over both of them.
�Now what?� Richie heard Jon�s sleepy honey and whiskey voice ask.
�Hush, go to sleep,� he replied. Jon turned onto his side facing Richie and tucked his head down under Richie�s chin. He was so tired. He rested his cheek on Richie�s chest and trailed his fingers down the smooth, warm skin. He closed his eyes and dozed off. Richie inhaled the smell of Jon�s hair, sweet yet masculine, green, earthy, reminding him of burning leaves, not a strong smell, but one he�d never forget and one that would play havoc with his libido everytime he got a whiff of it.
Now what? is right, Richie thought to himself as he felt Jon�s breathing become deep and regular, each moist exhale flowing down his chest. That�s a good question. We�ve dug a deep one here partner.
Richie�s thoughts became too real. They were in their forties, fathers, married to two beautiful women. Good women. Women who certainly didn�t deserve to be betrayed in any way. But it wasn�t like he and Jon were saints. The women were always all over them, especially Jon. And on occasion, they had partaken of the abundance. Occupational hazard. But this happened very rarely in recent years.
Richie sometimes wondered about Jon and Dorothea, but he knew he was very much in love with his wife, Heather. What in the hell did they think they were doing? Well, it�s obvious, they were thinking with their little heads. Ha, ha, that was Heather�s little joke. He loved Heather and Ava more than anything in the world. But he loved Jon too. Always had, in a brotherly way. He would die for this man. And he knew the feeling was mutual. And now. Now. He was overcome with emotions and the tears began flowing.
* * *
Jon knew he was dreaming. Stephanie was there holding his hand, speaking, but not making any sense. What was she trying to tell him? He looked at her, a vision of himself, blond hair, blue eyes, his beautiful daughter, she was beginning to cry and he kneeled down to hug her tightly, to stop the tears. His heart was breaking, he couldn�t stand it when she cried. He heard soft crying as he woke up. Maybe it wasn�t a dream.
He slowly opened his eyes and realized where he was, laying so close to Richie. It was Richie who was crying. Jon sat up. Richie propped himself up on his elbow.
�Sorry, didn�t mean to wake you,� Richie said as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, �You�ve only slept a few minutes.�
Jon didn�t speak. He didn�t look at Richie. The image of Stephanie still burned in his brain. Instantly he made up his mind that what they had done was wrong. Richie reached up and touched Jon�s arm. Jon flinched away and stood up, gathering his clothes.
�What�s wrong?�
�Nothing, I was dreaming.�
�About what?� Richie began to get worried, something was wrong, very wrong.
�Nothing important.� Jon couldn�t make himself look at Richie. He was afraid of what he would do.
Richie stood up and grabbed Jon�s wrist and pulled him around. Jon tried to pull back. It was a half-hearted effort. This is so fucked up, Jon thought. Richie grabbed Jon�s face with his free hand and wrenched it up so he could look into Jon�s eyes. They burned with anger, frustration, confusion. Jon dropped the clothes he had retrieved and reached up to knock Richie�s hand away from his face but stopped when he saw the hurt in Richie�s eyes. He gripped Richie�s wrist, closed his eyes and turned his face to kiss the palm of Richie�s hand. Richie�s grip loosened and he pulled Jon in and softly kissed his lips.
�Rich,� Jon closed his eyes, not wanting this, and then wanting more than anything at that moment to taste that warm mouth again. He wished the conflicting emotions within would sort themselves out and reveal what he really felt. Richie kissed him again and put his arms around Jon. The two men stood together, holding on to each other.
�We need to get some sleep,� Jon said, into Richie�s neck.
�Yeah, you�re probably right.�
But neither wanted to let go. Richie started to rub Jon�s back.
�Rich, please stop,� Jon pleaded. He pushed away from Richie and took a step back.
�Don�t try to analyze it now. Let�s just sleep on it and decide what to do tomorrow,� Richie said reluctantly.
�Yeah. But it is tomorrow, in less than 12 hours, my family will be back here, in this house. You will be flying back to LA tomorrow afternoon.� A pause, then he added: �We started some deep shit here.� He rubbed his face and turned around, reaching for the clothes again.
�Yeah. We should get some sleep.�
�Yeah, right,� with a touch of sarcasm, Jon left for his bedroom.
* * *
Jon woke up with a start. He sat up in bed. His own bed, not a hotel. Alone. What kind of fucking dream was that? he asked himself. He turned and looked at the clock. 10:15. He had to squint and look harder, yes, it was still morning.
His family would be back soon. His heart skipped a beat when he realized how much he�d missed them. He drew his knees up and hung his head between his arms propped on top of his knees. As the fog began to dissipate from his hangover grogged brain, the images from last night hit him with full force.
It wasn�t a dream, hadn�t been a dream. As he sorted through the images, he could feel his cock begin to rise and he smiled to himself. I�m in a heap of trouble. But I�ve been there before, and I�m sure this won�t be the last time. No one had to know. His and Richie�s little secret. He couldn�t stop smiling.
He got out of bed, yawned, stretched and went into the bathroom. Need coffee. And maybe a cigarette. Maybe some more Richie. Shit his ass was sore. Mental note: next time use K-Y.
He leaned over the vanity and looked at himself in the mirror. His sleepy eyes wandered down his lean body. Haven�t worked out in a day or so, maybe I�ll go for a run later.
Then his eyes were yanked back to something they had just skimmed over. He leaned closer to the mirror and gazed at the deep purple, magenta tinged bite mark on the right side of his neck.
Holy shit. He examined it closely. Good one, Rich. Holy fuckin� shit. He dropped his head. So much for secrets. Shit, shit, shit. He never remembered seeing such a thing on Heather�s neck. He laughed out loud. Oh God, this is so out of hand, it�s funny.
He urinated, brushed his teeth and splashed water on his face, all the while thinking, thinking. Nothing coming to him that would make this situation go away.
He looked at the mark again. It was an irregular blotch, the center more pink, radiating out to deep purple with a few red gash-like marks on the edges-Richie�s teeth. There was another set of three short red streaks, almost like ink pen strokes a half millimeter from those. It was centered on his neck almost on top of his carotid artery, where the color was deepest.
He ran his fingers through his hair, getting one finger caught in a tangle. This was the longest he�d let his hair grow in a while. Maybe it was long enough to cover the blasted thing. Nope. Keep thinking.
The tangle was stubborn and would not work out. Fuckin� hair, he was tempted to shave his head bald. Wouldn�t that be a shock? He searched for a brush, a comb. Fuck it. He had no time for this. Not going anywhere anyway. He certainly didn�t care how he looked. It was everyone else�s anal obsession.
He studied the knot of hair poking out to the side and a noise caught his ear. He turned and looked out the bathroom door on his left. Richie wandered in and leaned against the door facing.
�Good morning,� he mumbled. He looked like a truck had run over him. His hair was messy and he had bags under his eyes. He had on a red t-shirt and dark grey sweatshorts.
�You look like shit, man,� sometimes Jon didn�t know when to lay off the honesty.
�Thank you very much. You, on the other hand, look like you just been preened, except for that loose feather you got pokin� out of your head.� Jon turned back to the mirror and tried to finger the unruly lock down.
�Whatever.� He turned back to Richie. �Sleep any?�
�A little.�
�I think I died. When I woke up I thought I had been dreaming.�
�Me too.� Richie stepped into the bathroom. �You gonna get dressed or do we have to pick up where we left off last night?� Jon put up his hand to signal Richie to stop. He turned his head and pointed so Richie could see the new beauty mark on his neck.
�Oh fuckin� get outta here!� Richie�s eyes widened as he stepped closer to take a look at the teeth marks. Then a grin spread over his face. �That�s a pretty good one, if I do say so myself.�
Richie reached up and patted Jon�s cheek. Jon glared at him and turned back to the mirror. He rubbed the spot once with his thumb, then commenced to dig through drawers looking for Dorothea�s makeup.
�You can�t cover that up, it�ll be too obvious,� Richie said matter of factly.
�It�s not fuckin� obvious now?� Jon, anxiously continued to dig through drawers.
�Come here and I�ll give you a matchin� one on the other side,� He was joking, but he was also becoming aroused again, watching Jon, nude and digging furiously through the bathroom linen closet. He really wanted another bite of that neck. But he also couldn�t get over the reality of it all.
Today would surely be the end of both their lives. Tell the truth? or lie?, it didn�t matter, Jon had a hickey smack in the middle of his neck from someone other than his wife. What they had obviously thought would be just another secret between them, now had a neon sign announcing itself to the world. The level of absurdity had reached new heights.
He walked over to Jon who had his back turned to him. He placed his hand on Jon�s shoulder. They both had to calm down. Jon turned and looked at Richie. The expression on Jon�s face was one of sheer defeat. Jon looked away and sighed.
�Ok, Mr. Let�s-fuckin�-make-it-obvious-we-done-somethin�-fucked-up, let�s hear your ideas on what we�re gonna do.�
The venom in Jon�s tone made Richie look at the floor. Jesus, Jon was mad. His eyes had hangover burn, he had trouble focusing on his feet.
�Wear a turtleneck?� he offered.
�It�s fuckin� May, it�s been seventy, almost eighty degrees lately,� Jon was about to lose it.
�It�s still kinda cool outside,� Richie kept on, brain not sharp enough yet to come up with anything else.
Jon made a sound like a TV game show buzzer indicating wrong answer.
�Next idea.�
Richie shifted his weight and sighed heavily. �We�ll �fess up, we got drunk and did some experimentation,� the truth was always the best path to take when you were between a rock and a hard place. Sometimes.
�Give me a break,� Jon, exasperated, pushed Richie aside and went into the bedroom. He began digging through the closet drawers looking for something to wear. He pulled out a pair of running shorts and a jock strap and put them on. Richie�s mood was sinking fast. Jon was mad. He had a right to be. He hated it when Jon was mad. Always had. Jon had found a t-shirt to wear and was now sitting in a chair, putting on his running shoes.
�Please don�t be mad,� Richie pleaded. �How can I think if I know you�re pissed off?�
�I�m not mad,� Jon said in a low voice. �It�s as much my fault as yours. I just wish it hadn�t happened.�
With that last revelation, Richie let his arms fall heavily to his sides and dropped his head back. He stared at the ceiling. He knew it, Jon regretted every minute of last night while he reveled in it. Hope was quickly deserting him.
Jon pinched the bridge of his nose and clarified: �I wish it hadn�t happened because now we�re in deep shit, because of this thing on my neck,� he pointed at the bruise, then he covered his face in his hands and said from his heart: �But I�m glad it happened because I love you, man.
You know I�d do anything for you. I didn�t know I had this in me. I don�t know why I can�t face the truth. I�m scared of what�s gonna happen, and I don�t know what to do. You know I�m a control freak and I don�t seem to have any control over this. There, ya happy? I�m a basket case. And by the way, you are the best fuck I�ve ever had in my entire life, bar none.�
With this he stood and walked over to Richie and lifted his chin firmly, his thumb digging into Richie�s face. He kissed him on the lips. His tongue sought out Richie�s and they embraced and kissed again wetly.
�And you�ve had quite a few,� Richie smiled, �So I feel privileged.� A light began to bloom at the end of the tunnel.
�I�m going to run a little bit, clear my head,� Jon said as he walked out of the bedroom. He really wanted to stay and recreate the ecstasy he�d experienced last night with Rich. But time was running out and he sorted things out best when he was alone. Richie watched him go as he made his way down to the kitchen to find something to eat. Maybe an idea or something would come to him with a full stomach.
* * *
Jon ran the almost quarter mile down his driveway to the big iron gate. He slowed enough to mash the button that opened it.
He ran in place until it opened wide enough for him to slip through. He let it continue opening as he turned onto the street. No sidewalks here, so he ran along the edge of the pavement.
It wasn�t a wide street, just enough room for two full-sized Mercedes to pass each other. Nicely landscaped though along the walls that edged the street.
He wasn�t paying particular attention to the few cars that passed him. He just hoped he was far enough to the side to avoid being hit. No sense getting run over on his own street. He visualized the headlines: �Rock Star Run Over by Neighbor�s Ferrari.� News at eleven. With a subhead that read: �Unexplained Bite Marks Mar Singer�s Body.� He chuckled to himself.
As he made his way, running at about a 6-minute-mile pace, he occasionally glanced up at the homes that glided past. At least at the ones that he could see from the street. Some were too far back on their properties, hidden from view. His was like that, closer to the water.
These were homes of CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, Wall Street brokers who�d been at the right place at the right time, a neurological surgeon. His neighborhood. If you could call it that. He barely knew any of his neighbors. Dorothea knew everyone.
He�d been pretty busy since they�d moved here, with Crush hitting hard, the subsequent tours for that and for One Wild Night, and now Bounce, not doing as good, but he was pleased. When he was home he was usually holed up inside his recording studio. Not visiting neighbors.
He had gone about three miles when he stopped to check his pulse. He didn�t know why he still did this. He was in the best shape of his life, in better shape than most men his age. He was proud of that fact. He had meant it when he said he�d never be a fat Elvis.
But, good grief, he hated it when the media pounded something he�d said into the ground. The sweat was pouring off his body. Damn, why�d I wear this shirt. He always could sweat at the drop of a hat when he got worked up about something. So, he wasn�t perfect. He laughed out loud at himself.
He pulled the shirt off, wiped his dripping forehead and hair then wadded up in his right hand as he turned around and started back to the house.
As he rounded the last curve before his gate, he noticed a figure walking in the street. He wasn�t concerned about being recognized here. He�d left the house bareheaded, no cap, no sunglasses. Those items he lived in when he was away, mostly to make himself more comfortable, even though the length of his hair was now beginning to act like a beacon, turning heads to look at him.
He kept his eyes trained on this person. Ah shit, it was Mrs. Cohn, walking her stupid poodle. One of the few neighbors he did know. Damn, now what? He felt obligated to be polite and stop and speak. Why was he so damn nice? Why couldn�t he be the prick everyone thought he was? He made a mental note to berate his mother later for raising him like that.
He slowed down as he neared her and she stopped. She had seen him immediately when he rounded the curve and she knew who it was right away. Her excitement was visible as she waited for him to run up to her. She unabashedly drank in his sweat gleamed body with her eyes from his dripping hair to his feet.
No children, she was in her early 50�s he guessed and she was married to a 70 year old CEO of a plastics manufacturing company. She looked kinda plastic herself. He was sure she�d had massive work on her face, not to mention her boobs. Way too perky for fifty year old tits.
She was also one of the few people that got on Dorothea�s nerves because she had to touch Jon everytime she saw him. And not just a polite touchy-feely on the arm, but other parts of his body that she�d �accidentally� brush with her hand. Or she would give him a full body hug, once wrapping her leg around him lasciviously. He thought Dorothea was gonna go through the roof that time.
�Hey, Mrs. Cohn, how ya doin� today?� He had to force himself to smile and make eye contact. A mistake.
�Hey cutie pie, come give me a hug, I�m SO excited to see you!� Coulda fooled me, Jon thought to himself.
�I�m really quite nasty and sweaty,� he said, trying to avoid touching her. Mistake number two. He could have kicked himself.
�Well, honey, nasty and sweaty is the way I like you.�
He thought he was gonna vomit. But instead, he politely smiled and chuckled at her, trying to act embarrassed but really wishing she�d explode on the spot. She reached over to him with her free arm, the other still dangling a tiny puffy white dog at the end of a long, rhinestone studded strap.
She proceeded to pull him toward her as he resisted. What the hell, he gave in and gave her a hug. She smelled like stale cigarettes and expensive perfume. Her hand and arm were cool as they wrapped around his waist and she dropped her hand to his ass. She smashed her boobs into his chest and wriggled her body. She giggled and released her grip. She was staring at his neck.
Fuck. He�d forgotten about the bitemark.
�I see you�ve been having quite a nasty, sweaty time yourself, other than running your yummy little ass up and down the street.�
He blushed genuinely and turned away. Okay, make up something for god�s sake and then maybe she�ll go away.
�Souvenir from last night.� he blurted. Mistake number three.
�Last night? I thought Dot was gone with the kids, she told me she�d be back today . . .� she rattled on and Jon�s eyes glazed over with panic. Then realization hit her and she looked at him with a sly expression.
He shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, his hand on his hip. He waited to see what was gonna come out of her mouth next, his heart pounding. Keep your mouth shut before you wade out in shit so deep you drown, he thought to himself.
�Daddy mouse has been playing while Mommy cat has been away. Tut, tut, tut.� She looked into his eyes and he thought he saw evil in hers,
�Don�t worry, I won�t tell,� she murmured, �but only on one condition.� How�d he know this was coming?
�You share some of that sweet lollipop you have between those hard legs of yours with me, and your nasty little secret is safe.� She reached up and dragged her fingers down his torso, slowing down and lingering on the hair just below his naval, then stopping at the top of his shorts. She gave the drawstring a little tug and he took a step backward, out of her reach.
At that moment, Richie yelled from the end of the driveway. He�d wandered down, waiting for Jon to come back.
�Hey, you�ve got a phone call to return,� he called out from across the street.
Saved by the bell, thank God for Richie. She just eyed him with a smirk and started tottering away on her four inch heels, dragging her poodle with her.
�Don�t wait too long sugar, a word or two might slip out if I forget we had a deal,� she called to him as she winked and turned away. Jon turned and trudged across the street.
�How long you been standing there?�
�Long enough. Don�t you think we got enough problems without having to deal with your neighbors?�
Jon shot him a look. v �Dot called, I almost shit when I answered the phone. She said their flight was delayed because of weather in Pittsburgh,� Richie explained. �Next flight was a couple hours later, so they�ll probably be here around three. She said to call her when you came back in from running.�
�Oh THANK YOU God!� Jon breathed, then quickly turned serious, �They weren�t in the air already?�
�No, hadn�t boarded yet,� Richie replied.
�Okay, good,� relief in his voice.
They continued trudging up the driveway, punching the button to close the gate as they passed it. Halfway between the street and the house, Jon dropped to the ground and sat with his legs straight out.
He began to stretch, trying not to let his muscles stiffen up after the run. Richie sat down next to him. Jon leaned back on his hands, then just laid down flat on his back, throwing the damp t-shirt behind his head and flinging one arm over his eyes, the other absently rubbing his abs.
The concrete aggregate dug into the skin on his back. Richie sat with his arms draped over his knees, facing Jon, watching him, wondering what force of fate had gotten them in this predicament.
Twelve hours ago they were two friends, getting drunk after a full day at work. He played the events that followed in his mind, becoming aware that he was making himself very horny. Watching Jon play with his own stomach just adding to his growing arousal.
What had started out as a sunny day this morning had turned overcast. The weather was heading this way.
He started when Jon flung his arms towards the darkening sky and yelled, �Jesus, God, my Father, Holy fuckin� Ghost, please give me a sign so I�ll know what to do!� He held his arms up, hands splayed as if waiting for the answer to drop out of the sky into them.
A strong breeze blew, lifting the drying wisps of hair around his face. Chill bumps covered his sweat dampened body.
�Damn it�s getting cold out here,� Richie shivered.
Jon looked catatonic for another moment or two, with his arms stretched up, then he bolted up straight.
�That�s it,� he said.
�What?� Richie asked, perplexed. He looked up at the sky to see if he had missed the answer as it had fallen to the earth.
�The turtleneck--the weather�s turning--I can wear a turtleneck today and probably tomorrow,� Jon smiled. It was good to see that smile return to that beautiful face. Jon leaned forward and kissed Richie on the lips.
�Thank you.�
�Hey, not out here,� Richie pulled back.
�No one can see us here, we�re hidden from the street, no one�s here but us.� He leaned forward again, letting his left hand drop between Richie�s legs, brushing the insides of his thighs, kissing him again, this time his tongue parting Richie�s lips, searching the inside of his mouth.
Richie didn�t move this time, letting the feeling wash through his body as Jon�s tongue probed his mouth. Richie started to moan as he felt his cock rising. Jon handled it through the cloth of Richie�s sweat shorts. Richie reached up and put his left hand around the back of Jon�s neck and sucked his tongue deeper into his mouth. The wind started blowing a little harder, a few cold drops of rain starting to fall.
�Let�s go inside,� Jon rasped. They got up together.
�Race ya,� Jon took off at a sprint up the driveway. Richie lunged forward, his hard on was beating against his stomach.
He was no slouch when it came to fitness, but he was not in the shape that his friend was. He usually stayed put on stage, not wandering far from his post to Jon�s right. Jon, on the other hand, bounded from one side of the arena to the other like a fuckin� golden retriever.
His heart was hammering as he entered the kitchen door, still chasing his prey but gaining. Jon had launched himself up the backstairs from the kitchen to the back of the same hallway that was lined with guestrooms upstairs.
He took the steps two at a time, not slowing down, running when he got to the top to Richie�s room. He stopped when he was in the bathroom and toed off his shoes, pulled off his sweaty shorts and jock strap and left them in a pile on the bathroom floor.
He reached into the shower and turned it on. Richie caught up and was trying to catch his breath when Jon turned and dove into his mouth with his tongue.
�Wait,� Richie desperately tried to take a breath, �I can�t breathe,� he panted. �You�re gonna kill me,� gasping for air, �Then you�re gonna have to get out of this by yourself.�
Jon stood there, waiting until he thought Richie�s breathing slowed enough and plundered Richie�s mouth again. Richie gave up trying to breathe and let himself go in the warmth of Jon�s mouth, catching a breath when he could.
His hands glided down Jon�s smooth damp skin, now hot to the touch, the blood had rushed to the surface from the sprint into the house. He reached down and took Jon�s cock into both hands.
Jon gasped and clenched his own hands around Richie�s still clothed one. Richie released his grip on Jon and began pulling off clothes. Jon slipped into the shower, an expanse of grey slate with shower heads on opposite walls going full blast.
Richie joined him and they wrapped their arms around each other, pressing their slick bodies together as the hot water sprayed over them. Richie pushed Jon back against the wall and wedged his knee between his legs, spreading them apart.
He ran his hands down Jon�s back landing on his firm ass. He slipped a finger in Jon�s crack and then into his asshole. The pain made Jon involuntarily bang his head back against the stone wall, squeezing his butt cheeks together momentarily, then he relaxed and let Richie in.
�Sorry, bud,� Richie whispered hoarsely.
�It�s ok,� Jon continued licking Richie�s mouth.
Richie realized he needed to turn Jon around this time, both of them standing wasn�t gonna work. He put his hands on Jon�s shoulders and twisted him around. Jon let out a soft protest upon losing Richie�s mouth, but he turned and put his hands and face against the cold slate, making sure his legs were still spread far enough apart.
The sight of Jon looking so vulnerable, the water streaming in rivulets from his hair down his back, waiting for the sweet pain he knew was coming, made Richie�s heart pound even faster.
Richie grabbed the soap and worked up a thick lather in his hands and proceeded to soap up Jon�s back. Jon moaned at Richie�s touch. Richie let the slick bubbles run down Jon�s crack.
Richie spread Jon�s cheeks apart and soaped it up good. He slathered his wet cock and threw down the soap. He positioned himself and then slowly pushed his way in the tight hole. Jon gritted his teeth at the pain, then bucked as Richie pushed his cock further in, brushing Jon�s prostate, causing Jon to bite down hard on the inside of his bottom lip. He could taste blood on his tongue.
Richie began thrusting slowly, as he rested his forehead on the back of Jon�s shoulder. He came forcefully, grunting as each wave of his orgasm racked his body, shooting come deep inside Jon.
�You ok?� Richie asked tenderly.
�I�m ok, it didn�t hurt,� Jon lied, it�d hurt like hell, he regretted not letting himself heal before trying this again. He closed his eyes as the water continued to pelt him, his face against the stone.
Richie let his hands fall down to Jon�s cock, massaging it back to attention. Jon turned around and leaned back against the wall. He put his arms over Richie�s shoulders and began softly kissing him, taking his time, letting the pain dissipate. The kisses getting deeper as Jon began to feel his cock thrum.
Richie switched places, taking the position against the wall. Jon leaned against him, put his head against the taller man�s chest, feeling the beating of his heart through his chest. Richie picked up Jon�s head and fell headfirst into the deep blue of his eyes.
�I love you, man,� he had to choke back the knot in his throat.
�Why?,� Jon asked. �What is it about me?� Jon searched Richie�s eyes. Richie kissed his eyes closed, kissed the bridge of his nose, the tip of it, his lips, his chin. He continued down, pushing Jon backwards until he was leaning against the opposite wall, kissing all the way down until he kissed the tip of Jon�s erection.
Jon let his hands rest at his sides until he couldn�t stand still, wanting to come in Richie�s mouth, but wanting to make an effort to hold it this time, try to make it last longer. He firmly gripped Richie�s head and pulled him to a stand and turned him around.
He reached for the soap and began the motions of lathering his cock and Richie�s back. He leaned against Richie pushing him against the wall of the shower, his chest against Richie�s back, probing for the entrance to Richie�s hole with his fingers.
Richie clenched, then relaxed as Jon slipped two fingers inside. Jon whispered, �Don�t tell me I�m easy, I could drive a truck through this hole.�
�Drive it in baby,� he gritted back. Jon lathered himself good and plunged his cock into Richie and let out a low moan as the tight ring made its way down the length of his rod. An animalistic sound emanated from Richie�s throat as Jon�s cock rubbed past Richie�s prostate. Each of Jon�s thrusts was slow, with a pause at each end, driving Richie mad. Richie came again before Jon. Jon kept the slow pace of his motions as he bit down hard on the back of Richie�s shoulder.
Richie cried out in pain and clenched his muscles, causing the grip on Jon�s cock to become even tighter. Jon almost lost his balance as the water poured off their bodies. All of his concentration was centered on his member, working it up until he came in a flood, once again, seeing sparks before his eyes, holding on so he didn�t slip from becoming weak in the knees.
They stood there for a few minutes, Jon holding himself up by hanging on to Richie�s shoulders, face against his back. Finally, Richie turned around and wrapped his arms around Jon. Jon looked up into Richie�s smiling face, and grinned himself. The cut on his lip, where he had bitten down, started to bleed again.
�We keep this up, you�ll be one big scab before the end of the day,� Richie reached up and wiped the blood dripping down the corner of Jon's� mouth.
�Damn, it�s still bleeding, I didn�t think it was that bad,� Jon felt the wound with his tongue. Richie reached for the soap and began lathering Jon�s chest and arms. Then, playfully, he started lathering up Jon�s hair.
Jon brushed his hands away and finished washing his hair and rinsed himself off. He got out of the shower, leaving Richie to wash himself. His stomach had started growling.
�What about me?� Richie whined. But Jon was busy studying the laceration on the inside of his bottom lip in the mirror. It had swollen a little, but if he closed his mouth just right, it wasn�t noticeable.
�This just keeps gettin� better and better, don�t it?� He said disgustedly. Jon was always the worrying pessimist to Richie�s happy-go-lucky optimist.
�Put a little lipstick on it, no one will notice,� Richie said straight-faced. Jon just glared at him, but then he laughed too. Richie always made him feel good about himself. No matter what stupid decisions he�d made, and he�d made some bad ones over the last twenty years. He hoped this wasn't one of his bad decisions. He smiled as he watched Richie wash his hair, the rest of his body. Richie watched Jon watching him.
Richie turned off the shower and stepped out. Jon handed him a towel, and finished drying himself off. He picked up his clothes and started out of the bathroom. He was starving, he hadn�t eaten anything in almost eighteen hours. That was another bad habit of his, forgetting to eat.
* * *
They were eating leftovers out of the refrigerator at the grey granite topped island in the middle of the kitchen. Jon had called Dorothea�s cell phone. He spoke only necessary words. He was afraid of sounding defensive for no reason.
�Are you feeling alright?� she had asked him.
�Yeah, I�m fine, a little tired, but I�m ok. Miss you too. See you soon, tell the kids I love �em, love you too, bye.� he replied and then hung up.
Richie watching this one-sided conversation from the other side of the kitchen, just being glad it wasn�t him, but he knew his turn was coming.
Jon was wearing the black high-necked sweater he had recently donned for a magazine article. It was the same one he wore for the last video. It was comfortable, so he wore it a lot. He also had on some old Levi�s, not tight, but they fit well, hugging his body, small holes here and there.
Normal clothes as he liked to call them. He used to be interested in clothes, hobnobbing with the haute couture elite, but that interest had waned in the last few years. He had good taste and he wanted to be presentable, but it was just too much of an effort to give a shit. Just give me something comfortable and I�m happy he thought.
His stage clothes were all chosen for him--he selected the ones he actually wore on stage that offered him the most mobility, the ones that didn�t cut off his circulation completely. He depended on others to keep up his rock star image. The low riding, skin tight pants were part of that hype.
He understood perfectly how the selling game was played and that he was part of the merchandise for sale. He was packaged to sell records and that was okay as long as he could let it go at the end of the day. Some people had a hard time differentiating between Jon Bon Jovi the rock star and John Bongiovi the regular Joe.
These were the people he kept at arm�s length, never letting them into his circle. He�d been burned too many times when he was younger. He had a hard enough time himself keeping his perspective as anything he wanted was at his beck and call. Everything and anything in any quantity.
He tried not to be spoiled and he thought he�d done a good job lately. Of course he�d gone overboard when he was young, who wouldn�t have? Cars, motorcycles, women, drugs, partying, the debauchery was incredible. But those things didn�t have a place in his life anymore especially since the children. Priorities were important and he had his life ones straight, at least he had thought so.
Because right now, the most important thing at the moment was keeping his wits about him and keeping this thing on his neck hidden away from his wife and the rest of the world for a day or two until it faded. You�d think after all these years, he�d be good at deception, but he really sucked at it, it took too much focus.
�You okay?� Richie asked from across the island.
�Yeah,� Jon replied, chewing on a piece of roast chicken. �They�re about to board, but they don�t know if they�ll leave on time. The weather has passed there, but it�s coming this way. What about your flight?�
Richie hadn�t even given it any thought. He made a call and sure enough, it looked pretty iffy on his flight out. He sat there contemplating what to do, and the phone rang. He answered, it was Heather.
�Oh, hey hon,� he faked enthusiasm and swallowed hard. �Yeah, I just checked, don�t know what�s gonna happen. Well, if that�s okay with you. Yeah, I miss you too, but I don�t feel like sitting around at the airport and then finding out it�s cancelled. I don�t think that�ll be a problem. Ok, love you too, kiss Ava for me. Bye.�
He immediately dialed his personal assistant�s phone number and instructed her to change his flight to tomorrow mid day. Jon was moving the dirty dishes to the sink. He wasn�t very domesticated, but he wasn�t a slob either. He brushed half heartedly at the crumbs on the counter top.
Their housekeeper will probably be here pretty soon. She was off on Saturday and Sunday, but since Dorothea was on her way back from an out of town trip, he suspected she�d come back this afternoon to help unpack. Richie sighed, �I hope its okay if I stay another night, because I just changed my flight out to tomorrow.�
�So I heard, of course you can stay, you know you don�t have to ask.�
�I�ll be here for moral support, if you know what I mean.� He winked. Jon smiled and dropped his head. His hair fell down hiding his face.
�You, in my house tonight, how am I gonna resist sneaking into your bedroom in the middle of the night?�
�I�m sure Dorothea will have you scared shitless so that�ll be the last thing on your mind.�
�You�re probably right.�
Richie got up off his stool and came around to Jon�s side of the island. He cupped Jon�s chin in the crook of his finger and lifted his face and gently kissed him. He tasted rosemary, pepper and chicken and laughed.
�Very tasty.� He licked Jon�s lips and then swept his tongue inside to taste what was there. Jon opened his mouth and let Richie do some damage. The hardness of Richie�s body against his was intoxicating, and he felt like he was in a trance, Richie�s tongue working magic, and he felt Richie�s hand begin to knead his crotch and he moaned softly.
The sound of metal on metal made them jump ten feet as they separated and turned away from each other. Someone was coming in the kitchen door from outside. It was Maria, the housekeeper. She had her hands full of plastic grocery bags. Jon jumped up to help her. Surely she hadn�t seen anything. She looked up and smiled and gladly handed him the bags in her right hand so she could retrieve her keys out of the door on the outside.
�I did not know anyone was here Mr. Jon,� she said.
�That�s okay, Maria, it�s just me and Richie. We just finished eating. We�re going back out to the studio now, okay? Unless you need help getting anything else out of your car, or is this all you got?�
�No this is all. Thank you so much,� She paused, glanced beyond the kitchen and listened. �Ms. Dot is not back yet with children?�
�No, their plane was delayed, they�ll be here some time between three and five I suppose.�
She nodded and waved her hand at him to shoo him off, �Go work, I take over now.� She hummed to herself as she began to load the dishwasher and scrub the stone counter.
Jon and Richie walked outside to the golf cart and got in, Richie driving this time. They drove down to the studio, the family dog, Copper, chasing after them. They went into the studio and flipped on the lights and other various switches, electronics building up a low hum as they started up.
Richie picked up an acoustic guitar and slouched down in a chair and began to strum it lightly. Jon went to the control room fridge and retrieved two soft drinks. He went back to the instrument room and handed one to Richie. Jon decided he needed to exercise his vocal chords, flex his range since they didn�t do much yesterday except argue.
They played a few songs, Jon played guitar on one, on the piano on another. He managed to hit some good notes. The slice on the inside of his bottom lip smarted a few times when he stretched is mouth too wide though.
When Richie began playing the opening chords of �All About You� Jon stood up and moved towards him until he was about arms length away. He began to accompany the acoustic music, softly singing the words. This was the song they had argued about yesterday. He had to smile as he sang.
�I took some shots and fell from time to time, baby, you were there to pull me through, we�ve been around that block a time or two . . .� he looked up at Richie, who was beaming back at him in agreement.
He continued singing, expressing the lyrics with his body language, the volume of his voice increasing, each line of the song making him realize how much he loved the man standing before him.
�For all the words I didn�t say, and all the things I didn�t do, tonight I�m gonna find a way . . .,� his smile flashed as he sang to Richie. He couldn�t help but become aroused as his feelings bloomed through the words floating from his mouth. Richie couldn�t take his eyes off Jon, playing each chord, texturing the song with new notes.
The look in Jon�s eyes as he sang was indescribable, it almost paralyzed him. He wanted to throw down the guitar and dive into those fathomless, sparkling blue eyes. They got to the bridge of the song, �You can take this world away, you�re everything I am, just read the lines upon my face, I�m all about loving you,� Jon sang, challenging his vocal chords, eyes closed, straining to keep the notes clean and clear.
Jon had inched closer and closer to Richie and they were now almost toe to toe, the electricity between them unbearable. Richie�s hard on was rubbing against the back of his guitar as he played, and he could feel the heat of Jon�s breath as he sang. �I�m all about loving you, � Jon finished, almost a whisper.
Richie played the last chord and the two men stood in a trance, Jon�s mouth about to open to release the tongue that so wanted to be inside the other man�s mouth.
Someone in the room started clapping and for the second time today, the two jumped out of their skins.
Dorothea was standing there applauding.
�Wow, that was great. It�s the latest release off the record, right?� she asked as she came towards Jon. Jon twisted around and Richie took a few steps backwards. She reached Jon and put her arms around him.
�Missed you hon, just wanted to let you now we were back,� she said.
�Missed you too, where are the kids?� he tried to sound sincere. He had missed her and the kids. He was just a little preoccupied at the moment trying to act like nothing was out of the ordinary.
�They�re all over the house, as usual. I�m sure Steph jumped on the phone as soon as she got to her room,� she let him go and made her way over to Richie, almost toppling a mic stand on the way. She hugged him with the guitar between them.
�I�m assuming you�re staying again tonight?� it was more of an order than an inquiry from Dorothea.
�Yeah, Heather thought it was better to wait and fly tomorrow, too,� he replied. She released her bear hug and turned away. He noticed his hand shaking as he reached for his soft drink to take a sip.
�Thanks for taking care of Jonny while I was away,� she said. Coca-Cola almost snorted through his nose.
�Sure, no problem, he�s easy,� he didn�t know how those words managed to escape his lips. Get a grip he thought to himself.
Jon didn�t seem to be listening, just watching Dorothea as she started out the door.
�Dinner will be ready in about an hour, don�t make me have to call you.�
She�s a tough one, Jon thought, as he forcefully expelled the air he�d been holding in his lungs for the last three minutes. He looked over at Richie who was returning his gaze. He wondered what she had seen.
Jon turned away and wandered about the room, swinging his arms to help him relax and gain his composure. In silence he began straightening stuff, picking up trash. He went back into the control room and spied the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the console from last night.
He smiled, grabbed it and took a swig, swallowing hard as the liquid burned the back of his throat and down his esophagus. He carried it back to the room where Richie was, straightening his guitars. He handed the bottle to Richie, who took a long swig, screwing up his face as he swallowed. They passed the bottle back and forth a few times. He set the bottle down.
�Lets go,� he said reluctantly. They turned off the lights and closed the door behind them.
* * *
Richie took the driver�s seat again and they began to silently glide down the path. The wind was blowing cold and the air was damp. The path made a sharp turn around the corner of the building and from there split off to the left towards the mechanical shed for the pool, about 50 yards away.
Richie stopped the cart. Jon looked at him.
�What�s the matter?� he asked as he looked over at Richie.
In the dim light left from the stormy dusk sky he could see the mischievous gleam in Richie�s eyes. Instantly, Jon became aroused, his cock springing to life.
�This is not a good idea,� he said, as Richie started the cart again and veered off to the left.
�Rich, this is not a good idea,� Jon repeated, licking his lips in anticipation. When they were about halfway to the shed, Richie stopped the cart.
They were surrounded by large trees, the wind blowing cold through the tops of them. Jon immediately jumped over into Richie�s lap, straddling him, mouth seizing Richie�s, forcing his tongue down far as he could make it go.
Richie answered back with his strong tongue trying to get down Jon�s throat. Richie pulled Jon�s hips forward until their hot crotches were rubbing. Jon had both hands in Richie�s hair, holding him still and grinding his hips slowly.
A few drops of cold rain began to fall and a bolt of lightning lit up the night with a thunderous crack.
�Shit, I knew this wasn�t a good idea,� Jon broke away from Richie�s luscious mouth and returned to his side of the vehicle.
�We�ll be drenched before we get to the house, put it in high gear,� Richie shifted into reverse and backed up to the fork in the path, then put it in forward and sped toward the house.
They reached the covered patio where the kitchen door was, as the rain started to come down in buckets. Jon got out of the cart and rubbed his aching crotch, trying to rearrange things in his pants.
The aroma of spices and warm food greeted them as they entered the kitchen.
�Leftovers guys, sorry,� Dorothea said as she helped Maria carry food to the family dining room. Jesse ran up to Jon and jumped on his back.
�Hey man,� Jon said and rolled him over, pretending he was flipping him over karate style. Jesse started play fighting and Jon put up his dukes in mock combat.
�We�re you good for mama while you were away?� He heard Dorothea snort in response. Jon put his arms down and straightened up, glaring at Jesse sideways. Jesse shrugged his shoulders and ducked his head.
�I only wanted to see how deep the mud was,� he whimpered. Jon had to stifle a laugh at his son. Dorothea obviously didn�t see the humor. God he loved his kids. Everything in his life was secondary to them.
Too bad the rest of the people who thought they ran his life didn�t feel the same way. Caused lots of friction sometimes. Occupational hazard.
Please God, don�t let everything get fucked up. Help me through the next day or so, until this thing on my neck is gone, he thought to himself. Richie had taken up the boxing match with Jesse.
Jon picked a piece of chicken off the serving platter as it passed him on the way to the dining table. Same chicken from lunch. Same catered food from three nights ago when they had hosted some charity something or other that Dorothea was involved in.
He licked his fingers as he glanced into the family room for any signs of Stephanie. He looked at the telephone and saw her line�s light lit up. He smiled and shook his head. She�d probably been on the phone since she stepped foot in the house.
He was not the disciplinarian that Dorothea was. He knew he was in for a rough ride in the next few years when Steph entered the teen years. Oh well, we�ll cross that bridge when it gets here, he�d just do the best he could. Wrapped around her finger is what he was and she knew it and played it to the hilt sometimes.
He turned to go back to the kitchen and heard footsteps running up behind him, small arms flung themselves around his waist.
�Hey, daddy, I missed you,� Stephanie hugged him tight. He turned around and stooped a little to receive his peck on the cheek. Wouldn�t be long, he wouldn�t have to stoop, she was growing like a weed. They walked arm in arm back through the kitchen and to the dining table.
As they ate, they discussed the trip. Normal, family conversation, Jon mostly listening to his family chatter. They finished and began to clear the dishes, everyone grabbing a handful, except Jesse, who ran upstairs to play.
Dishes were deposited onto the kitchen counters as, one by one, they left to go their separate ways in the house. Jon was the last one to enter the kitchen with Dorothea, when the phone rang. She answered.
�Well, hello Mrs. Cohn, how are you?� she said. Jon skidded to a stop, almost dropping the dishes he was carrying.
�We�re fine . . . yes, thank you for asking,� she continued. �Excuse me? . . . Oh. . . Is that right?� she turned toward Jon and gave him a stern look. �Well that certainly explains a few things. . . Yes, you�re right. I�m not too happy about that. Thanks for calling. Bu-bye,� she hung up and slowly put the phone down.
�That was Mrs. Cohn, calling to make sure we had made it back home alright. That was very thoughtful of her to call,� she paused, �She also said she saw you today after your run,� she paused again.
Jon felt his face flush and he thought his head was going to explode. She waited for a response, then said: �She said you had been naughty.� He set the dishes down with a clatter as he watched her come around the kitchen island towards him. To him, it seemed like she was moving like a nuclear submarine, steadily coming towards him and there was nothing he could do to stop her.
�Is there something you want to tell me?� she asked. He froze. Torpedo number one.
�Um,� he was speechless, his vocal chords paralyzed by the wave of panic that swept over him. The wheels in his brain were burning rubber, back peddling furiously, but no motion was happening in any direction. She kept moving towards him until she was in his face.
He finally managed to make his muscles move and took a half step back. She crooked her finger and hooked it into the top of his neckline and pulled it toward her, revealing his Adam�s apple. His face visibly paled and another wave of panic engulfed him.
Stay sharp--focus--shit, I wish I hadn�t had that whiskey a while ago--shit--he�d been caught before, a long time ago--not lately--shit--they�ll fight--it�ll be horrendous--she�ll scream at him--they�ll say very bad things to each other, as happens when things get out of hand. He swallowed hard, his Adam�s apple bobbing up and down.
He closed his eyes to avoid hers. Oh God, please, don�t let this be happening, not with the kids in the next room he prayed silently. She looked at him perplexed, and tugged harder on the sweater, downward and said, �Mrs. Cohn said you�d been running out in the cold, half-naked, its a wonder you don�t catch pneumonia.�
He tried to concentrate on lowering his heart rate. He blinked, it took a moment to register that the world may not disintegrate, at least not right this second.
�What?� he finally managed to make his mouth form a word.
�She said you were all sweaty out in the cold weather today . . . Are you feeling okay? You�ve been awfully quiet today. Did you two stay up drinking and smoking all night?�
�Uh, no. We worked a little late, but that�s all. I guess I didn�t realize how bad I do feel, I�m gonna go upstairs and lay down,� he said almost a whisper.
She let go of his sweater and felt his forehead and cheeks. �You do feel a little warm and you look a little flushed. You didn�t eat much either.� He looked at her to see if she had noticed his heart beating out of his chest.
�Well, go on up, I�ll be up later�
�Ok, I�ll try to stay awake� she patted his ass as he turned away to head up the backstairs.
His legs felt like lead, the adrenaline draining out of his blood, it was a major effort to lift his feet to the next step. He was numb, he didn�t remember making it to his bed, laying down on it, still in his clothes and falling asleep.
* * *
He began dreaming, he knew he was dreaming. Richie's warm lips on his, Richie's hand on his chest, moving down to his stomach, beginning a languid circular motion. He parted his lips, Richie dipping his sweet tongue in between his teeth. Jon's cock stirred to life, he moaned groggily and became aware that he was awake, his eyes still closed. Was he not dreaming? The hand still rubbing slow circles on his stomach.
"You don't feel like you have a fever," Dorothea's voice. His eyes flashed open and her nose was almost touching his.
"You feel pretty cool right now, you must have been really tired," she slipped her hand under his sweater and continued rubbing his stomach, her little finger dipping under his waistband with each sweep.
"Let me help you get ready for bed, hon," she began to pull the sweater up his torso. He bolted upright and wrapped his arms around his middle, hugging himself and making it impossible for her to take off the sweater. She furrowed her brow.
"What is wrong with you tonight? I'm really tired and I'm ready to go to bed, will you please get undressed so we can go to sleep?" She stood up and stalked off to the bathroom, slamming the door.
Sometimes she ran out of patience with his temperamental moods. She was tired after fighting the kids and the airport today. She should have made him come with her on this trip. She undressed and put her hair up to begin removing her makeup. She didn't get angry at him often. But he was acting funny this evening.
The look on his face after Mrs. Cohn called was very weird. He never could hide his emotions, he was an open book and she loved him for it. I wonder why he was so scared of Mrs. Cohn, she thought to herself. He knows she hates it when the old bitch has to paw him everytime she sees him.
Maybe she got too carried away this morning and he didn't want her to be angry. That was probably it. She brushed her hair out, her mind drifting back to the scene she witnessed in the studio earlier.
Then again. What was that all about?
She could have sworn if she'd kept watching, Jon was going to lean over and plant a big wet kiss on Richie's lips. The thought made her instinctively become aroused, the warmth growing between her legs.
She'd had a crush on Richie from the beginning, he was so sweet and funny. So unlike her husband who was so focused and serious all the time. He was getting better though, she automatically came to his defense.
She knew it was her imagination, but the fantasy made her wet. She put the brush down and turned out the light. She stepped back into the bedroom and went to her side of the bed.
She looked over at Jon. He was asleep, covered up to his neck. She could barely see his face buried in the pillow. Oh well, maybe next time, she crawled into bed and went to sleep.
* * *
Jon watched Dorothea stomp off to the bathroom. He quickly got undressed and climbed back in bed, covering himself up to his chin. He faced her side of the bed, laying on his right side.
He needed a drink to calm his nerves, but damn if he was getting out of bed now. He heard the water running in the bathroom, knew she was taking off her makeup. He wondered if Richie had gone to bed yet. He wanted to jump up and run to his room.
Just stop thinking about anything, go to sleep, he told himself. He finally relaxed, and barely noticed it when Dorothea finally came to bed. He dozed off, and immediately began dreaming.
That was the good thing about his dreams.When he wasn't hungover, he could remember them because they were so vivid. Made for good song writing. In his mind's eye, Richie was on top of him, riding him. Jon could see Richie's expression in mid orgasm, Jon about to come himself. Richie's skin was glossed over with sweat, his hair sticking to his face, lips parted, eyes closed, nostrils flaring. Jon wanted to reach up and touch those lips, run his fingers through Richie's wet hair, but he couldn't move, something was holding is arms down.
He looked down and his body was one big bruise. Purple chest, black and blue arms, bruise color everywhere until his eyes got to Richie's body, then everything had a normal hue about it. His arms ached, he wanted to lift them so badly. He looked back up to Richie and he was gone, it was Dorothea there, riding him.
She stopped moving, got off of him and reared back and smacked him in the face as hard as she could. He jolted awake.
He was still laying down, in the dark, but he knew his body had involuntarily jerked at the pain in his dream. He turned his head to look at Dot. She was breathing deeply, still sleeping.
He got up and went to the bathroom to take a leak. He came back into the bedroom and paused just next to the bed. She was still breathing as before, hadn't moved a muscle.
He padded back to the closet and dug out a pair of boxer shorts, a pair with those yellow smiley faces all over them, then went over to the bedroom door, quietly opened it and slipped out. It was not unusual for him to get up in the middle of the night and go downstairs to the kitchen or living room and piddle with his guitar, scribbling words in one of his dozens of song notebooks that didn't mean anything to anyone except him.
But this night, he kept going when he got to the stairs, passing them to the other hallway. He reached Richie's door and once again, quietly opening, slipping in. The stormy weather had passed and the clouds were gone because the moonlight was streaming in the uncovered window across the room.
Richie was in the middle of the bed, halfway covered with the sheets, his naked upper body curved in slumber towards the window. Jon walked to the window side of the bed, keeping his eyes on Richie.
He slipped off his boxers and gingerly sat on the bed, scooting up until he was sitting next to Richie. He twisted his upper body and leaned over Richie, supporting his weight on his hands on each side of the bed, bending down, brushing his lips with his.
Richie's eyelids fluttered open, took a moment to focus. He saw a halo of golden blond hair, lit up by the moonlight, surrounding pale skin, angled cheekbones, soft full lips, parted just enough for a brilliant flash of white to show. The eyes, hidden in shadow, a hint of sparkle from the dim light reaching them.
Richie cleared his throat, trying to drink in the vision of his new lover. He lifted his finger to trace the angular features of this beautiful face, starting at the top of the cheek, just under the eye, tracing down to the jawline, coming around to the chin.
He touched the bottom lip and as he did, Jon took his finger in his mouth, rolling his tongue around it.
"Mmmmm," he moaned, as he sucked Richie's finger. Richie could feel Jon's teeth, his hot breath, the inside of his cheek, wet, slippery. He wanted to fuck that wet mouth. He pulled his finger out of Jon's mouth and pulled his head down to meet his own welcoming tongue.
Jon knew what Richie wanted and obliged. He worked his way down Richie's body, exploring with his tongue, tasting, feeling, getting to know every bump of muscle, rib, the naval. Richie was nude, no clothes had to be removed.
Jon took the head of Richie's pulsing cock in his mouth, swirled his tongue over it, licking the precum, toying with the eye. He angled his head so more slipped in, down his throat, making it constrict, his tongue laying flat against the bottom of the hot rod. Richie felt the back of Jon's throat and thrust his hips up.
Jon almost gagged, paused to let it pass and let his throat open more, feeling it get full of Richie. Richie looked up and almost let out a yelp as he saw himself slide into Jon's face.
He began moving his hips, fucking Jon's mouth, until he came, willing himself to be silent as he gasped for air, clenching the sheets on each side of his body.
Jon let Richie slide out and he swallowed, wiped his mouth and crawled up beside Richie's warm body. Richie turned and cupped Jon's face in his hand, gently kissing him, licking a tiny bit of come on his lips.
"That was amazing," he whispered, "I think you're getting the hang of this," he laughed quietly.
"I think I am too," Jon looked into Richie's eyes, basking in the joy of pleasing his friend.
Richie reached down to stroke Jon's hard cock. Jon closed his eyes, licked his lips again, moaned. Richie propped himself up and pushed Jon so he was laying on his back. He got up and straddled Jon just below the hips so he could continue stroking him.
He stopped long enough to reach under the pillow where he'd stashed the small jar of Vaseline, (just in case) and dipped his fingers in it. He continued stroking Jon's cock, slicking it up.
He handed the jar to Jon, who dipped his fingers in and tossed the jar onto the bed. Jon slipped his hand under Richie and greased up his hole, helping Richie relax, getting him ready. Richie stood up on his knees and guided Jon in.
He then grabbed Jon's wrists and pinned them above his head to the bed, sliding up and down on Jon's cock as he did so. Jon tried to break the restraint but could only concentrate on the shooting spasms rocking his body as he fucked Richie. Richie held him down firmly, seeing Jon beg with his eyes to let him go, his hips thrusting.
Richie flung his head back as Jon's thrusts hit his prostate, making his orgasm explode as Jon came. Richie rocked back, his come shooting up Jon's chest, Jon's hot come screaming up Richie's ass. Richie leaned forward again, still pinning Jon's arms above his head. Jon's eyes were closed, his mouth open, gasping for air.
Richie dipped his tongue into the open mouth, willing his partner's tongue back to life, kissing him deeply. He let go of Jon�s wrists and climbed off and laid down beside him. Jon turned his head toward him and reached up to touch Richie�s face. A wide smile spread slowly.
�Gotta go,� he whispered.
�I know,� Richie said back.
�We leave for Spain in a few days.�
�Yep.�
They smiled at each other, and Jon was gone.
* * *
Jon felt tapping near his arm, near his elbow. He was on his stomach, face buried in the pillow, hands under the pillow. The tapping continued, on his skull tattoo this time.
�Daddy, wake up. Mom says you have to take us to school this morning,� it was Stephanie. His eye flicked open. �We�re going to be late, it�s after seven. Hurry.�
�Ok baby, I�ll be down in a minute,� he muffled through the pillow. She left the room, closing the door behind her. He turned over and stretched.
He sat up and took a mental inventory of his body--head ok, no hangover, no sore muscles, ass a little sore--smile--ouch, lip sore--shit, his hand went to his neck. He stood up and went to the bathroom and peered into the mirror. Still there, but fadin� fast.
It was more a half moon shape now, looked like a miniature horse had kicked him in the jugular. The teeth nicks still visible, it�s still a hickey, he thought. He quickly showered and toweled off, pulled on the same jeans from yesterday. He draped the towel over his neck after he dried his hair and then began to shave with the electric razor.
�Hon, you better hurry, sorry I can�t take them this morning, Janice says there�s an emergency at the karate studio,� Dorothea rushed in and went into the closet. When she found whatever she was looking for, she came into the bathroom to hug him good morning.
He put the razor down and gripped the ends of the towel with both hands, anchoring it down.
�How�d you sleep? I only heard you get up once,� she kissed him.
�I was a little hungry, went downstairs,� he lied. She moved her hands to his sides and pinched his ribs playfully. He jerked from the tickle and involuntarily dropped his hands to move hers.
She immediately reached up and grabbed the towel away from his neck, swiping it away and rolling it around, twisting it up tight, like she was going to snap it at him like a whip. He reached out to grab it but it slipped out of reach. She laughed and looked up at him and the smile left her face.
For some reason, he was calm. It was ok. Almost relief. There it is, see it? No more hiding. It was like he was having an out of body experience. She had both hands on the twisted towel. He knew she could rip the thing in two if she wanted.
He could see her, looking at him, not in his eyes though, she was looking lower, at his neck. He couldn�t feel anything, maybe she�d already snapped his neck with her bare hands?
He could hear words, but her mouth was not moving. He was speaking. What in the hell was he saying? He listened to the words.
�I didn�t want you to be angry,� he was saying, �When Mrs. Cohn called yesterday . . .� Where was this going? He wished he knew. The words kept coming out of his mouth. �I didn�t know how to tell you . . .�
Her eyes looked into his, softening.
�She did this and you didn�t want me to see it,� she finished his sentence.
�Um . . . yeah.� He looked away. She hugged him, put her hand on his face and turned him back, kissed him on the lips. Nothing out of the ordinary, people climbed over her to get to him all the time. Occupational hazard.
�I�m sorry, hon, I know you don�t ask for that, people can be hard on you,� she easily defended him, �Come on, the kids are waiting,� she said as she turned to go.
He watched her leave and turned back to the mirror. His eyes looked drained. Dark circles under them. He started laughing and didn�t stop until he after he was dressed and going down the stairs, thinking about the month in Europe with Richie, his heart drumming.
* * *
Jon, knowing he was making somewhat of a public appearance when dropping the kids at school, wanted to avoid unnecessary stares and questions so he had put on a loose, dark grey thermal weave shirt with a high funnel neck. The top of the neckline just covered the purple horseshoe on his neck. He fitted a dark baseball cap on his head as he loped downstairs to the kitchen, wading into the chaos of morning at his house.
Maria was on her hands and knees cleaning up the floor beneath Jacob's high chair, muttering about more food on the floor than in the baby's mouth. Jacob was still in the chair, making loud baby talk to no one in particular and mashing a banana into his face. Jesse was pouring milk into a bowl of cereal, looked like Cocoa Puffs today.
Dorothea was talking on the phone, gesturing with her piece of half-eaten toast. "Well, fix the damn thing! How hard can that be?" she was giving some unlucky soul hell first thing this morning. Jon poured himself a cup of coffee and let Maria hand him a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast. It was way too early for Richie to be up. His plane didn't leave until noon or so. Jon took a seat next to Jesse
"Good morning son," Jon said seriously.
"Good morning Dad," Jesse giggled, milk dripping down his chin. Then he reached over and punched Jon in the ribs. Jon made like he'd been seriously injured, slumping over his plate. Jesse continued punching, laughing, spitting cereal and now, chocolate milk down his chin.
"Ugh, please, no more," Jon play begged. Dorothea gave them a stern look from her phone conversation and Jesse went back to his bowl, wiping the mess off his chin with the back of his hand. Steph was no where to be seen, still upstairs in her room, Jon supposed.
Jacob started making noises to get out of his high chair so Jon stepped over and pulled him out, unlatching the tray and unbuckling the safety strap. Jake squealed with delight, immediately grabbing a fistful of Jon's hair with his banana smeared hand. Jon lifted him over his head, and twirled around and stopped, Jake laughing and screaming for more.
"Oh man you're gettin' heavy big boy," Jon cooed into Jake's face. Jake wanted down, so Jon set him on the floor. Jon had visions of right end tackle watching his son toddle off towards Dorothea. He smiled and started back to his seat when Stephanie breezed through, grabbing the back of his shirt and dragging him with her as she rushed past.
"Come on Daddy, we've got to go, I've got to get to school early for play practice. Hurry up Jess, we need to go," she said as she pulled on Jon's shirt, dragging him to the door.
"I swear, I can't believe I have to drive all the way over there to tell someone to do something, Jesus Christ," she said as she poked Jesse to get going. Jesse slurped the last of his milk, jumped off his stool hooking his booksack over his shoulder and tore out the door, Jon and Steph right behind him.
"Some plumbing problems at the karate studio, hon. No one can seem to make a decision there, we've got a another dojo using it while they wait for their floor to be refinished, so something needs to be done. I'll be back in a little while," she gave him a quick kiss on the lips.
"I might be running when you get back," Jon yelled as they climbed into Dorothea's white Lincoln Navigator, and she in his black Dodge Viper. Jon dug around inside the vehicle for some sunglasses and put them on. The kids piled into the back, taking their customary places and buckling seatbelts. He pulled out of the garage, turning out onto the driveway. There were three men in his yard, raking leaves and picking up broken branches left from the weekend storm. He waved as he passed them. Dorothea was behind them, and she turned right out of the gate as they turned left to go towards the school.
"Mrs. Cohn, huh?" she hadn't believed for a second that Mrs. Cohn left that mark on Jon's neck. She watched them for as long as they were visible in the rearview mirror. So, where was Richie when this little episode occurred she wondered. Maybe it happened Friday, before Richie showed up. That suck mark looked a lot fresher than three days. She put the top down as she sped toward town. It was going to be a beautiful day she thought, but maybe not for her husband.
* * *
Jon returned to the house after dropping Stephanie and Jesse off at school. Nita, their nanny, was there and she was walking Jake down to the deck by the water's edge. He watched them in the distance as Jake would stop, bend down, pick up some curiosity off the ground and try to put it in his mouth, Nita reaching down and taking it away from him. I think I'll walk down there and take over for Nita in a little while, he thought, wanting to fill his remaining time at home with his children. He went inside and upstairs.
Maria was in one of the kid's rooms, changing bed linens. It was her Monday ritual, change all the bed linens in the house. She was a little anal about it, made him nervous that she'd not see him if he got in her way and bundle him up with it. He made a sharp detour and backtracked to the guestroom hallway, glancing back over his shoulder. He reached Richie's room and stood listening outside the door.
He took a deep breath and put his hand on the doorknob, twisted it, pushing at the same time to open the door. Richie was still in bed, the sheets tangled all around him. Jon hesitated, he wanted to walk in but knew what would happen if he did. Too risky. Had enough heart attacks in the last twenty-four hours to last a while. He stared at Richie's still figure, reliving the events that took place but a few hours ago in that very bed.
His gaze lingered on Richie's face, peacefully sleeping, a look of contentment, his lips slightly curled into a smile. Dreaming? About what, Jon thought. He ached to walk over to the bed, to touch Richie's skin. He caught his breath when he realized he had taken another step into the room. He heard a noise down the hallway and quickly stepped back and closed the door. As he turned to walk towards the stairs, Maria came around the corner.
"Oh, Mr. Jon, I didn't hear you come back," she said, "I'll wait until you go downstairs before finishing your room, if you'd like," she offered, but he could tell she wanted him out of the way. He really wanted to get out of the house right now, the temptation to go in to Richie's room was unbearable.
"Yes, please, Maria, I'll be down in a minute," he turned toward his bedroom and went in to change into his running gear. Don't think about him. Think about running. Think about the beautiful day outside. He tried to keep his mind off the vision of Richie peacefully sleeping a few feet away from him on the other side of the wall. Stretch, run, stretch, maybe I'll pump some iron today, lay on the tanning bed, work on my tan, play with Jake, go to the studio, write some songs.
Rich would like the one he's had floating around in his head lately. He'd have to remember to play a little for him before he left for the airport. Rich. Shit, this ain't workin.' Arrggghhh. He hurriedly put on his shoes and ran out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Down in the kitchen, Dorothea had returned and was on the phone again. Maria was tapping her fingers on the counter and when she saw Jon, she scurried back upstairs to complete her Monday mission.
Dorothea hung up the phone and watched Jon start warming up for his run. She ran her eyes over his strong legs, studied the sliver of skin as his shirt slipped up and exposed his back when he bent over. She continued up his body until she got to his neck, and her heart clenched when she saw the mark. She flicked her eyes to his, he was calmly looking at her, a slight smile on his face.
"Richie still sleeping?" she asked. I wonder how long he was here before I got back, she thought. Time to start the onslaught, let's see how he does.
"I guess," he said as he flexed his legs and propped one foot on a stool for more cold stretching. Oh, he's had too long to think. He's on guard now, she began calculating her questions, looking for a chink in his armor.
She looked back at the purple hook on his neck, building her resolve, then caught his eyes with hers and asked,
"Where was he when Mrs. Cohn decided to play vampiress on you?"
He put his foot down and stood up straight. Oh shit. Blindsided.
"What?" he blurted. Fuck.
Bingo. It was almost imperceptible, but she saw the fleeting panic pass his eyes. Damn you're good girl, but I wish he would have held up a little longer. "I wish I could have seen Mrs. Cohn wrestle you to the ground in the middle of the street," that should widen the small hole she had created in his shield.
"Dot, that's not what happened," the words tumbled out of his mouth. God he hated it when he didn't weigh his words, consider each one before they left his mouth. He held his breath, fearing that if he let it out, more uncontrolled words would spill out.
"Really? Then tell me about it," keep hitting him, don't give him a chance to think.
He looked away, hands on his hips. He dropped his head. She was better than he was at this, always was, and this time, he could see she had a target in mind, he might as well give up.
"Dot . . ." but he couldn't continue. God damn it, there was no way he was going to tell her. His brain began to go white, the sensation he got when things were spinning out of control for him. She'd probably win but not right now, he'd fight long as he could.
"What? What were you going to say? You can tell me, hon, I won't get mad," she said innocently
. Fuck that shit, he wasn't about to tell her anything. "Maybe later, I'll be back in a half hour." He turned and walked out the door.
* * *
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He ran until he thought his chest would burst. He thought he was going to enjoy the cool, almost cold, morning air, might even wave as he passed someone. But instead, everything he looked at was dark, dreary, no color. He kept his eyes straight ahead. A few horns honked at him. Yeah, fuck you.
He dreaded going back to the house. He wanted to be somewhere else, wanted it to be some other time and place. Maybe she'll drop it, have forgotten about it by the time he got back to the house. His hair was dripping sweat into his eyes and they burned. He brushed it back with his hand.
Maybe she'd be gone when he got back, he could spend a few minutes with Richie, maybe they needed to come up with a plan on how to handle this if the situation took an unwanted turn. He headed back to the house. If I see that fuckin' hag, Mrs. Cohn, on the street today, I'll . . . I'll . . . shit. I don't know what the fuck I'll do.
Then the thought occurred to him: Richie doesn't know Dot's seen it, or that she doesn't know the whole story. He picked up his pace, almost at a sprint when he reached the kitchen door.
He entered, head, shirt and shorts soaked, and went directly to the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water. He gulped as he glanced over to Dorothea and Richie sitting at the granite topped island. He bent over, waiting for his lung capacity to return to normal. A plate full of crumbs was pushed aside and Richie was sipping a cup of coffee, Dorothea was sitting opposite him with a diet coke in her hand.
Fuck, am I too late? he wondered. He stood up straight again, draining the bottle, chest still heaving, sweat splattering all around him from his hair. He paced in a circle, shaking his legs and trying not to let his his muscles seize up as they cooled down.
Strings of dripping hair were clinging to his face and neck, curling seductively like Medusa's snakes around the mark, obscuring it from view. He wiped the sweat off his face and pushed his hair back off his forehead with a towel sitting on the sink. He looked from her to Richie and back.
They were silent, returning his gaze. He turned around and continued pacing, his breathing slowing down.
"What are you so pissed off at?" Richie finally asked.
Jon turned and stared at him, then looked over at Dot. He remained silent. His brain refused to work up a suitable response.
"He's in the dog house," she answered for him with a wink.
"Oh," Richie raised his eyebrows. He obviously didn't know anything had happened. Things were as they had left them last night. Of fuck, Jon. What'd you do now? Richie tried to read something from Jon's eyes, but there was nothing.
"But I'm sure he'll make amends in due time, " she said and took a sip from her soft drink. At that moment, they heard a knock at the door, it was the driver to pick up Richie for the airport.
"Well, Rich, tell Heather I said hello, and give Ava a hug for me. I hope we can get together sometime after you guys get back from Europe," she said to Richie as he rose from his seat, and gave her a hug. She held on to him a little longer than usual. Richie looked over her head to Jon and raised his eyebrows in question. No response from Jon. Dorothea released him and put her hand on his back to escort him to the door.
"Well, I wish I could stay and help you out of the dog house, man, but I've got to get home," he said as he heaved his bag up and gripped Jon's shoulder as he walked to the door. He looked into Jon's eyes questioning and trying to communicate in that brief moment that he was sorry he was leaving. But Jon was in a daze. There was nothing in those eyes. Something's up. Shit. What happened? He's not trying to cover his neck. Oh Jesus.
Finally, Jon spoke, "See you next week," Richie stood still, then Jon repeated more firmly, "See you next week, Rich," and he turned away and went upstairs.
Jon showered slowly, letting the hot water beat on his head, trying to wash away the emotions swirling around, fighting each other. Guilt, exhilaration, anger, frustration, remorse, a yearning drilled a hole in his chest. He beat down the urge to hit the walls with his fists. It was inevitable, the pain was coming, it was waiting for him.
He turned of the water and stood there, dripping, until he began to get chilled. He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off, finally able to steer his thoughts to other matters, and finally his mind drifting to Saturday night. That amazing night of discovery. Then his eyes focused on himself in the mirror, eyes locking on the stroke on his neck. He threw the towel at the mirror and went to get dressed.
He returned to the kitchen. Dorothea was still sitting in the same place he'd left her when he went upstairs.
She's not backing down, he thought, she's started in on this and like a fuckin' pitbull she'd not let him go until he was torn to shreds.
"I think I'll call Mrs. Cohn," she said, almost laughing. Jon felt an ice pick begin to dig into his eyebrow above his right eye. Fuck, I knew it. Here we go again. He turned around to leave the room. She jumped up and grabbed his hand to turn him around to face the oncoming battle. He jerked it out of her grasp.
"Why are you so mad?" she laughed, "I'm the one who should be mad."
"Dot, please," Jon pleaded as he closed his eyes. The headache was spreading, reaching the deepest part of his brain. He rubbed his forehead with his hand.
"Do you not give a shit about any of this? I think she needs to be told to keep her hands to herself," she said.
Please, God. Don't desert me now. Jon opened his eyes and looked at her. Keep fighting. Keep fighting.
"I wouldn't intentionally do anything to harm you or the kids," he quietly said.
"Of course you wouldn't, hon," she replied.
A few moments of silence passed.
She slammed her hand down on the counter, making him jump. His heart was thumping so hard, he could hear the blood in his ears.
"It just pisses me off to no end that she thinks she can get away with touching you like that. So I'm going to call her and tell her I'd appreciate it if she'd look but not touch when you're near her," she picked up the telephone. Lets go in this direction and see what happens.
He knew she was playing with him, her goal had been set and there was no deviating from her game plan. He didn't quite know what the path would be, but he had an inkling that it wouldn't be pleasant for him. His blood had risen and the anger he had held back seethed out. Ok, Dot, let's fight, that's what the fuck you want. Here it is.
"Why does it bother you so much?" He decided to run with it. "Why doesn't it seem to bother you when I have strange women rubbing themselves all over me?"
"There's the key word, Jon: strange, they're strangers," she was quick, "I know Mrs.Cohn, I have to socialize with her, I live across the street from her." He's really gonna try and make a run for it, she thought. "And you are dead wrong and you know it, you think I don't feel anything when I have to stand back while women crawl all over you, pushing me aside while some slut buries her tongue in your face while she grabs your crotch. Give me a break, Jon."
She knew how to push his buttons, knew every single one of them intimately. She rarely accompanied him on tour, she hated it, hated the phony people, hated the lust-crazed women, the boozing, the partying. She knew when she married him, she married that too, but she was determined to control how much of it effected their lives. She ruled with an iron fist, stepping in and exerting regulations when necessary.
Her words were like fists to his stomach, each one a one, two punch. Ok, time to get out of here, I'm about to crack up, go crazy, run somewhere. Now. The thoughts careening through Jon's brain like pinballs, "I'm going to the studio," the only place she wouldn't follow him, and he walked out the door.
Dorothea sat at the table. She sighed. Well, I think he's shook up enough, now. She knew he'd break under the pressure eventually. She decided to be patient. Draw it out of him. Even if it hurt a little. Well, it will probably hurt a lot this time. He seems to have stepped over the line in a big way. She didn't know what it was, but it was going to come out. He'd be desperate to tell her when he'd had enough. Maybe he'd remember this lesson even longer than the last one. Maybe this would be the last lesson she'd have to administer.
Maria came into the kitchen, an armful of dirty bed linens. She stopped and dropped something off on the counter. "I found this in Mr. Richie's bed when I was changing the sheets. I have no idea where it came from," she said as the small jar of Vaseline fell from her hand. It tumbled to the counter and Dorothea picked it up.
Dorothea looked at it, trying to figure out what it was. Vaseline? She hadn't seen a jar of Vaseline since she lived with her parents. What would a jar of Vaseline be doing in Richie's bed? Chapped lips?
"Are you sure this was in Richie's bed?" she quizzed Maria.
"Oh, yes ma'am, the blue bedroom, he also left these," she plucked a pair of smiley face boxer shorts from the wad of laundry in her arms. "Mr. Jon has a pair of these funny shorts, too," she added.
Her blood began to vibrate. Richie's room. Richie and Jon? No. No way. She recalled the scene from the studio yesterday. Two and two are about to equal to four. Instantly she felt a slow throb in her crotch. Well, this throws a whole 'nother light on the subject. Definitely calls for further investigation, but not before she finished reminding Jon who was boss, she thought as she examined the insides of the jar.
* * *
Jon spent the rest of the afternoon in the studio writing trying to forget everything that had transpired in the house with his wife. He poured his emotions out on the paper, page after page. As each page filled, his mood lightened. These songs would probably never see the light of day, but they were his therapy. A journal of his being, raw and bare. His sweat, his blood, his bones.
After his morning run, he had changed into jeans and a black button up shirt with the sleeves ripped off. He'd spent an inordinate amount of time this afternoon with his feet propped up on a table, rolling his pencil up and down in the untucked shirttail. He threw the pencil down and closed the notebook, leaned forward on the table and covered his face with his hands. He'd played a few CD's--some new music from Sheryl Crow, some old stuff from Foghat.
He daydreamed about Richie, where was he now, what was it going to be like for him when he saw Heather, what would be going through his mind? Almost a week until Jon would see him again. Would he survive the week? His headache began to pulse back to life as Dorothea's voice broke into his thoughts. She hated touring. She hated his business--the music business. She tolerated it, why? She said she loved him. She could make him stop. Could she? He'd leave her then. Yeah, right.
He realized he was fighting a losing battle arguing with himself now. Might as well stop running and face her. Get it over with. It'd been such a long time since they'd had one of these confrontations. He wandered about the building until he found the bottle of Jack Daniels that had started this roller coaster of emotions. He unscrewed the cap and drained the last few ounces, tossing the bottle into the trashcan by the door and turned off the lights on his way out. It was still daylight outside, the sun hurt his eyes as he squinted.
Jon got back to the house at almost six o'clock. The house was quiet, the kids in their rooms doing homework or outside playing. He was passing through the family room when Dorothea came in, carrying Jake. She asked him to take the baby for a while so she could help Maria with dinner. He played with Jake for almost an hour before dinner was ready, on the floor building towers with giant Legos and knocking them down like they were Godzillas. Jake giggling and Jon laughing at him. Jesse came in and joined in the carnage, Lego blocks were everywhere.
Dinner was quiet, not much conversation. Steph and Jesse started quibbling as siblings do. Jon could cut the tension with a knife.
"Stephie, don't call your brother that," Jon reprimanded his oldest. Stephanie looked at her father as if he'd slapped her. Jon softened his expression. Women would rule his life until he died. "I don't like it when you treat each other that way," he added and glanced over at Dorothea. Dorothea was unusually mute. Dorothea had not initiated any conversation, choosing to remain neutral on all topics. He knew she wouldn't begin a confrontation in front of the kids. They finished eating and cleared the dishes.
They decided to watch a movie since they had missed family movie night on Friday. Jesse wanted to watch Shrek again, Steph--Spy Kids. Spy Kids won. Jon's mind drifted during the movie. He was almost asleep when the movie was over, Steph on the couch next to him laying on his arm. Jesse on the floor in a giant beanbag chair.
Jake had been put to bed earlier, they were lucky he had learned to sleep all night when he was three months old and had been doing so ever since. Maria had retired to her room, she preferred reading, she didn't really understand the fast-paced American movies anyway. Jon carried Steph piggyback all the way to her room, she had already changed into pajamas. He put her in the bed, pulled the covers up under her chin and kissed her forehead.
"Goodnight my sweet princess, " he said softly, looking into her sleepy eyes.
"Daddy, I love you," she said drowsily.
"I love you too," he said.
He got up and left the room, partially closing the door. He took a deep breath as he entered his room, closing the door behind him as Dot came out of the bathroom with just her bathrobe on. He brushed past her, not wanting to stir anything up. She'd been eerily quiet the entire evening. She turned and followed him back into the bathroom.
"I'm sorry I was so angry earlier, " she tried to tear down the wall that was between them. She realized that if her suspicions were correct, there was no way in hell Jon was going to confess. She'd have to find out another way. But that wasn't going to stop her from her present mission. He had stopped at the sound of her voice but didn't turn around. She put her hands on his shoulders and felt him flinch.
"I love you," she said as she pulled all his hair into a one handed ponytail. She leaned up and softly kissed the mark on his neck from behind. He felt a warm shiver run down his spine. She stepped around to face him and kissed his lips. They were small and soft against his, not like Richie's stronger, aggressive lips. She kissed him more fervently, pushing her way into his mouth, pressing her body against his. He felt his pulse rising along with his cock.
He closed his eyes, thankful for what seemed like forgetting and forgiving. She continued to kiss his lips, his chin, pushing him back into the bedroom until the backs of his legs were against the bed. She reached for his wrists as her lips made their way down his neck. When she thought her lips were hovering over the bruise on his neck, she gripped his wrists and pushed his arms back so they were angled behind him pushing him off balance, then she opened her teeth and sunk them into his neck, biting hard.
"SHIT," he sucked in a breath as he fell back onto the bed, Dorothea on top of him, her robe falling open.
"It seems you may have developed a taste for doing it rough," she hissed, "So let's get rough, hon." She let go of his wrists and ripped his shirt open, buttons flying across the room.
"Dot," Jon tried to struggle from under her knee pinning him, but she put her full weight onto her hands, holding his shoulders down.
"Stop," he pleaded, as he reached for her arms, but she flinched away and dragged her nails across his pecs, trailing red streaks.
"FUCK!" Jon tried to grab her hands but she was too quick, she got his first, bending one of his fingers backwards above his head. Jon thought he was going to cry. He struggled again.
"You want it rough?" she asked. She bent his finger back another millimeter. He stopped struggling and opened his eyes. Why did he think he could win a physical fight with her? Outrun her maybe, but not this. He stilled himself, quivering from the pain in his finger. He could feel his blood pulsing, his breathing heavy.
He wasn't going down without a fight, he wasn't giving up this easy, "Ok, lets get rough, " he whispered. He lifted his legs and pushed her from behind, making her fall forward, above and behind him on the bed and she released his finger.
He reached for her body, to use the momentum to keep her body going but her knee landed at the bottom of his ribcage, in the middle of his diaphragm, knocking the breath out of him. He brought his arms down around himself. He thought he was going to pass out. In the moment he was immobile, she jumped onto the bed above him, got her balance, grabbed his wrists, twisted his arms and lifted him up, so he was sitting up, she was behind him with his arms pinned.
He grimaced as his shoulders stretched beyond their limit. "Dot, you're hurting me," he gritted.
"I know," she purred in his ear.
Sweat was beading his forehead, the pain thrumming through his arms, down his body, to his cock. Shit, he swore under his breath. He felt her hot breath on the back of his neck, chill bumps crawled all over his skin. She bit down on the top of his shoulder.
He cried out and crumpled under the pain, slumping sideways. She worked her hand down to one of his again and bent his finger back again, raising his arm over his head as she rose up and came around to straddle him. She twisted his arm again, holding that finger just right behind him so he wouldn't struggle. She lifted his chin with her free hand to look in his eyes.
"You didn't answer me," she said as she smoothed the pain from his face, brushed the hair from his eyes. He didn't speak immediately. She tugged on the finger.
"RRGGHhh," Jon growled.
"That's it, growl for me, baby, like an animal," Dorothea was thoroughly enjoying this game. He lifted his hand as if to touch her and she twisted the finger a little more. He dropped his hand as he dropped his forehead against her face, defeated.
"Hon, I'll let you go, but only, and only if, you promise that you'll be a good boy from now on," He nodded almost imperceptibly. She waited a moment,then relaxed her grip on his finger and he pulled his arm to his body, hugging it tightly.
"Get undressed," she ordered. He looked up, searching her eyes, trying to get a read on how much longer this was going to continue. From the looks, she was no where near finished.
"Get undressed, now," she urged. She slid off his lap and onto her knees on the floor. He backed away, undoing his pants and slipping them off, kicking them to the floor. She slipped off her robe. She reached for his erection and begin to tenderly stroke it while he sat watching her eyes. The soft strokes became more firm and urgent, Dorothea working at his cock.
Her hands were so small compared to Richie's, so nimble, not big and rough like his. She bent over him and slipped the smooth head into her mouth and rolled her tongue around it, sucking gently. He raked in a breath through his teeth. Her mouth smaller, more tender, but hot. He resisted moving his hands to her head, instead leaning back on them, letting his head fall back, closing his eyes. She touched her teeth to him, and slid more of his pulsing cock down her throat.
He held still, his head spinning, his body trembling. She tightened the clench of her teeth, biting down gently, then harder as she slid it almost all the way out, smoothing her tongue over the hot tip. She moved her mouth up and down his steaming shaft, licking the underside with her soft tongue, then she took him in again, raking her teeth up and down, biting down a little on the last pass, making his entire body clench. He bit his bottom lip, breaking the cut he'd sustained in the shower with Richie yesterday.
He tasted his own blood as he swallowed hard. The sensation of her teeth drove him wild, made him harder, driving him to the edge. He wanted to move his hips but was afraid that she'd bite down harder on him. She could feel him rise, he was about to come. In one fluid motion, she let him slide out of her mouth as she reached up and covered his mouth with hers.
She pushed him down flat on his back and climbed on top of him. She guided him into her, then intertwined her fingers in his, keeping his hands in front of her as she rode him. She was so soft, so hot and slippery, he felt his orgasm breaking as she let go of his hands and leaned over to placed her hands at his neck, wrapping them around it like she was going to strangle him.
She exerted pressure with her left thumb over his right artery, effectively slowing the blood flow to his brain. Her other thumb was pressing on his windpipe blocking off his airway. His eyes flashed open and his hands went to her wrists but then everything went black. The roar of blood was in his ears as he came. He lost contact with his body.
"Jon," Dorothea whispered in his ear. His eyes were rolled back in their sockets, lids half closed. She had released her grip on his neck after her orgasm, allowing the color in his face to return to normal. His eyes fluttered and he gasped as he gulped in air.
e focused on her, he closed his mouth, then opened it, trying to make it work. He had a crooked trail of blood dripping out of the corner of his mouth and down to his ear. His throat was sore. He felt stinging on his chest, where the sweat was mingling in the scratches she'd made with her nails. His head hurt.
"Jon," Dorothea repeated as she wiped the blood with her finger.
He couldn't move his muscles, he wanted to sleep.
"Jon, get up, you're bleeding, come on get up," her voice louder, more firm. He responded to her tone and sat up. She climbed off him and supported him in a sitting position. His head spun and he thought he was going to pass out again. She sat next to him, wrapping her arms around him. She pulled his lip down and examined the cut. It had stopped bleeding.
"Go ahead and get in bed," she coaxed him up and pulled the bed linens down for him. He lay back down and she crawled in next to him and covered them up.
"Hon, I'm sorry," she wrapped her arms around him. He nodded his head drowsily. "I love you," she whispered to him. He licked his lips.
"I'm sorry, too" he said. He fell into a deep sleep as she stroked his stomach. I'll let you be for now, hon, she conspired with herself. But I think I'll make a surprise appearance in London. And then we'll see if you've retained this lesson.