129 - Almost Hear You Sigh

“Motherf…!”  Jon kept himself from throwing the phone across the waiting room.  He’d forgotten to charge it last night and the damn thing had died before he knew whether Petey had heard him. 

“Greg.  Gimme your phone man?  I just lost the juice on mine.” 

“Sure,” the deceptively slender personal guard agreed, readily pulling it from his coat pocket.  “Hang on,” he apologized seeing the screen light up.  “Looks like Rocco.”  He put the device up to his ear, brusquely answering, “Yeah?”

Now is not the time to socialize, boys.  I’m getting crankier by the second.

Greg’s eyes lit on Jon, who was seated directly across the narrow walkway from him.  “No.  Nothing to report.  Yes, I’m sure.  He’s sitting right in front of me.”

Jon lifted his eyes to the ceiling, holding out an open palm and wiggling his fingers.  “Gimme,” he ordered, demanding the phone.

Without another word, the bodyguard passed it over.  Jon’s mouth was in a flat line of annoyance when he tried his best to be polite.  This had been an annoying day.  “Rocco, where is she?.........  Give her the phone.”

“Jon, where the hell are you?” his imp demanded, her husky voice coming in at about three octaves higher than usual.  “All I heard was hospital, blood, Richie and Tony.  Oh, yeah, and die!  What’s wrong and what did the doctor say?”

Of course she only got the worst possible words out of that.

“Sugar,” he tried his best to stuff away his annoyance with the interminable wait so that he could properly reassure her.  “There’s nothing wrong.  At all.  I said I had to talk fast because my phone was about to die – and it did.”

“Well what about the blood, hospital, Richie and Tony?  Was there an accident?”

The fact that she only needed two minutes and six words to get wound tighter than an eight day clock went into his mental filing cabinet.  It was helpful to know she had a hair trigger.

Don’t be a prick.  Would you rather she didn’t give a shit about you or your family?

No.  He wouldn’t.  For somebody who initially seemed so cold and detached from the world, once Petey had opened up to him, she had opened her whole heart.

“Neil sent me to the hospital for blood work – routine blood work because the girl who does it in his office was out today.  I’ve been waiting here for over an hour.”

He didn’t need the damn blood work anyway, in his own personal opinion.  The cholesterol numbers Neil was worried about always came back fine. 

“Oh.”  She was starting to come down off of Manic Mountain.  “Well, what did he say about the chest pains?”

“Just like I told you…” He couldn’t help but lift one corner of his mouth in a smug smirk.  “It’s all fine.  He did an EKG and all that other crap, but didn’t find a thing wrong.  Last night was just a Taser hangover.”

“Stop being condescending,” she snapped half-heartedly.  “You scared the bejesus out of me.  Would it kill you to be nice for two seconds?”

He’d thought he was being nice.  Jon bent forward to prop his elbows on his knees, head falling forward before speaking in a low voice.  “Hey,” he intoned quietly.  “I’m sorry you were scared, but everything’s okay.  Take a deep breath and let it go.”

She was eerily quiet for about twenty seconds before grumbling, “Since when are you the Zen one?”

“I’m anything you need me to be,” was his simply stated answer.  “How was your appointment?”

“Mm.  Good.  You never did tell me how Richie and Tony came to play in this micro-fiasco.”

So the secretive appointment remained secretive…  He had to admit that he was curious as to where Gavin had spirited her away to this afternoon.  Come to think of it, he was curious to see how her hair turned out.  It would be the first time he’d seen her  with no pink strands playing peekaboo in her raven waves.

“I talked to Rich for a long time after  I got out of Neil’s office.  He spent the morning out with Tony, helping him pick out an engagement ring for Dottie.”

“And how are you handling that?”

Much better than he expected.  Of course, it helped that  Dottie had already brought the subject up the other day.  It must have been stewing in the back of his mind.

“Pretty good, believe it or not.  In light of the other shit going on, it’s small potatoes.”

“Jon,” she scolded.  “Can’t you be at least a little bit happy for them?  They’ve paid their dues.”

“Who said I wasn’t happy?  If I wasn’t happy, I wouldn’t have agreed to go over and stay a couple hours with the kids so he can propose.”

“What?”

He couldn’t blame her for the incredulity, but it wasn’t quite as insane as it sounded.

“Tony wants us and Richie to come out to Dottie’s house for dinner tonight.  He’s gonna cook and then we’ll all hang out with the kids while he convinces Dottie to run an errand with him.  That’s when he’s gonna ask her.”

She was still highly skeptical.  “And you’re okay with this?  Really okay with this?”

“Yeah.”  Reclining back into the plastic hospital chair, he shrugged even though she couldn’t see him.  “Life marches on and all that.  If she makes him feel the way you make me feel, then who am I to be a jackass about it?  Besides, it will be good for us to spend time with my posse.”

“I’m proud of you,” Petey praised quietly.  “You’ve come a long way in a short time.”

That was because of her. 

“John Bongiovi?” a small, Latino woman called from the lab’s doorway. 

Jon’s head snapped up and he lifted a casual hand of acknowledgement in the air.  The nurse had rung the bell to save him from being a sap.  “They finally called my name.  I’ve gotta go, Baby.  See you at home.”

“Okay.  Be careful.”

“Hey, Petey?  I almost forgot to say...”  He smiled into the borrowed phone as he pushed to his feet.  “I love you.” 

☠ ☢ ☠

Petey waited impatiently for Rocco to check the apartment.  She loved Gavin, but he had wanted to rehash the whole photo shoot, and she was only interested in getting back to Jon.  It was still a tossup as to whether she wanted to hug or pummel him.

Or I could always go with option number three.

“All clear Petey.” He offered her one of his rare smiles as he waved her into the apartment.  “I’m going back to lobby duty.  Jon’s upstairs.”

“Thanks.”  She offered her own smile and patted his arm as she breezed into the foyer, dropping her bag on the floor.  After closing and locking the door behind him, she strode across the foyer in a determined line for the stairs.  Nimbly flying up them, she stalked into his office, pulling up short when she saw him behind the desk, charging cord dangling from the phone at his ear.

He gave her a silent wave, but didn’t pause his conversation.  “Yeah, so?  Really?  I forgot all about that, man.”

Sidling up next to him, she bent to whisper in his ear, “Who are you talking to?”

“It’s Lemma,” he  murmured.

“Good.”  With minimal fanfare, Petey plucked the phone from his hand, speaking into it.  “He’ll have to call you back David.  Bye.”  Her thumb disconnected the call and Petey dropped the phone on the desk.  Hiking up her skirt, she straddled his lap.  Jon’s hands came up to cradle her hips and he graced her with an affectionate grin.

“Are you trying to work me up and leave me hanging again?”

Petey’s palms roamed his chest, the front of his long-sleeved tee soft under them.  “No.  What time do we have to be in Jersey?”

One curious eyebrow slid upward.  “Six.”

“And Neil said you were really okay?” Delicate fingers danced up to twine the hair at his nape.  “Nothing’s wrong at all?”

His fingers found their way under the hem of her blouse, and lightly stroked her tattoo.  The burgeoning twinkle in his eyes melted her heart.  Call her a ‘ho.  She didn’t care. “I’ve been slacking on the exercise regimen lately, but other than that, no.”

She bent forward, brushing her lips against his jaw, rolling her pelvis forward.  “We’ve got an hour before we have to leave.  I’d be happy to help you work out.”

“Oh yeah?  What happened to our wedding night being different than the night before and the night before thaaaat…” His words degraded into a throaty growl when her lips came in contact with his Adam’s apple, the sharp edge of her teeth scraping against his flesh.

“This is day, not night,” she spoke quietly against the abraded area, swabbing it with her tongue in an effort to soothe.  “You’ve scared the hell out of me three days in a row.  I need to be close to you.”  Petey tugged harshly on the hair wound in her fingers, lazily lifting her head to scowl at him.  “Or punish you.”

The crystal blue of his eyes ebbed, devoured by rapidly dilating black irises, and a corner of that beautiful mouth tipped with utter conceit.  Even as his quiet snort of unadulterated arrogance pissed her off, it acted as a heady aphrodisiac.   “Punish me?  Ain’t gonna happen, Baby.   I’ll have your cute little imp ass across my lap before you can make a move.  And…”  It was his turn to knot his fingers into her hair, tugging sharply.  “…if I don’t at first, I will at last.  Then I won’t just make it pink, I’ll make it red.  Cherry red.”

She wanted him.  Whatever it made her, she wanted him with a fierceness that time only amplified.

“Then I vote for being close to you.”  A deliberate tongue snaked out to wet her lips.  “This time.”

Gripping hands slipped from her hair so that he could ratchet his arms tightly around her waist.  In one easy motion, he stood and deposited her backside on the rich, glossy surface of his desk.  “I like close,” he agreed, seeking his way under the long velvet skirt.  “I also like fast and hard.  Not in the mood for finesse.  Okay by you?” 

The whole rutting pig act shouldn’t be such a turn on, but God if his raw desire doesn’t set me on fire.

“I can live with it.”

Grinning wickedly, he found the pink satin of her panties and his groan worked its way through her nervous system like a siren’s call.  “Look at you,” he commanded roughly.  “Bad ass combat boots and dainty scraps of silky underwear.  You’re enough to drive a man crazy.”

“Do I drive you crazy?” she breathed, combing itchy fingers through his hair while his eyes swallowed her whole. 

She dropped her gaze so that she could see what Jon did.  She’d left off the tights when re-dressing at the photography studio, so it was literally combat boots, pale white skin and hot pink panties.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.  Now lift your butt.” 

Biting at the tendon in his neck, she shifted first one hip, then the other so he could free the skirt and shove it up around her waist.  He wasted no time pushing her thighs apart and burrowing a finger into her already damp slit.  Eyes still covered with glitter and eyeliner fell shut in ecstasy and she crooned with appreciation. 

“Don’t make me wait.”  Anxious fingers fumbled with his belt while she lost her tongue in his mouth.  His delicious chuckle vibrated through her and made her all the more ravenous.  Eating at his mouth, she allowed him to put an end to her fumbling and moved aside so that he could divest himself of the belt and pants. 

“You sure?  I love you, but this ain’t gonna be making love, Baby.”  From beneath her lashes, she could make out the motion of him stroking himself to readiness.  “It’s gonna be a hard, hot fuck.”

“Oh, God, yes.”

Roughly dragging her bottom to the edge of the desk, he leered his approval.  “That’s my girl.  Now wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist.”

How was she supposed to command her limbs when he was evilly flicking at her nipple with one hand and masterfully building his erection with the other?  A single black boot finally found its way around his body, nearly tangling with the jeans riding him at mid-thigh.  The other boot hooked around it as her arms lithely gripped around his muscular shoulders.

He dredged the tip of his arousal through the saturated cleft of her sex, slicking himself up.  “Hold on, Sugar,” was all the warning she received before he released his cock and impaled her with it.

“Mmmpfh!  Ohhh Jon…” 

He wasted no time finding a rhythm to drum up the excitement.  “Squeeze,” he grunted against her mouth.  “Work my cock with your muscles while I fuck you.”

Clamping down around him, she was rewarded with a low, keening moan.  “Awwhh fuck, that’s it… Nngh….  Yeah.....”  He locked his hands together in the small of her back so she couldn’t slide away on the desk’s smooth surface. 

The pace was such that she could do nothing but bury her face in his neck and hold on for the ride.  “Ahh!  Jon, that feels so gooood….”

“Don’t make me wait,” he panted, echoing her earlier plea.  “I can’t come… if you don’t.  Give it up for me.”

Squeezing her eyes closed, she felt the tremors start.  “Almost…  Don’t stop….  One more…  Jon….  Jon…. Ohmygod.....  Uh-unnhhh!”

He slammed home one last time, holding deep in her womb, his indecipherable words of satisfaction mingled with hers.  Hot seed spattered her insides and he slowly retreated only to give one final, hard push before slumping, spent, against her.

Soft lips clung to hers, and he muttered ruefully, “I can’t keep this up ya know.  I’m too old to act like a horny teenager every time you get that look in your eyes.”

She didn’t believe it for a minute.  He was the one who usually instigated this, and Petey had yet to see it take more than thirty seconds for him to be hard and ready.  Jon was purposefully being a pain, and she felt inclined to do the same.

“It’s your new exercise regimen.  Deal with it.”

He dove down to bite the underside of her jaw, chuckling.  “I love you, you damn little imp.”

“Mmm….”  She trailed a soft hand down his throat.  “Such a sweet talker. These are the moments that make me wonder how in the hell you ever came up with Bed of Roses.”

128 - Sounds of Silence

Okay, you didn't get a Wednesday post, but since I screwed up by posting a day early, I will give you an extra one so that the wait until Saturday isn't so long.  :)

The hired car carrying Tony and Richie was winding its way through the city.  All of the usual pleasantries had been exchanged, along with a distinct strain of un-pleasantries, such as what they would like to do to Daniel Lewis and how everyone was coping with him skulking around. 

When they had exhausted their fairly extensive repertoire of creative ways to kill a man – they may both reside in California, but they were still from Jersey – Tony finally broached the elephant in the car.  “Okay, I waited for you to offer, but you didn’t, so I’m gonna ask.  Where’s Denny?”

It was the question Richie had been dreading.  Seeing that Tony was the one who’d basically ordered him to bring her, he’d known the other man would eventually ask.   

“In California.”

He found himself on the receiving end of a very Bongiovi look. The brothers didn’t look that much alike, but when they were annoyed he could see the family resemblance without having to squint.

“Yeah, I might not be a rocket scientist, but I figured that part.”  That tone of voice was pretty familiar too.  “Why is she in California and not here with you?  I thought you were gonna bring her?”

I thought so too.  Then I kissed her.

“She had other obligations.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either.  He and Tony didn’t have a secret-sharing, soul-baring kind of relationship, holding much closer to being friendly as opposed to being real friends.  This shopping venture, in and of itself, was blazing a new trail for them.  The unfamiliarity of the territory was what made Richie choose vagueness over the naked truth, but it did beg another question.

“Why did you suggest it in the first place?”

Tony shrugged.  “I dunno.  You probably know better than I do how it is when you’re in love.  You think everybody should be.”

“But why me and Denny?  Don’t tell me it’s obvious that we’re soul mates or something?”

“Yo, man.  Don’t make me get all touch-feely and shit,” Tony implored with disgusted frown.  “You and Jon fought about Petey.  You’ve been single a while.  Denny looks at you like she likes you, so I thought why not?  A good woman makes the world a better place.  End of story.”

Well, I’ll be damned.

“You were trying to play matchmaker?”  The idea was pretty amusing.  “D’s really done a number on you, hasn’t she?” Richie observed slyly.  “I mean, I knew you wanted to marry her, but I never thought I’d see the day that TBJ turned into a giant matchmaking marshmallow.  They’re gonna take away your Harleys if you let that shit get out, man.”  He guffawed and clapped Tony on the back. 

“Go to hell,” Jon’s brother told him concisely, moving as far to the other side of the car as he could. “And what are you blowin’ about anyway?  I’ve seen you wrapped around more women’s little fingers than I can count.”

Poking a finger into his own chest, Richie crowed, “Hey, I’m not denying it, but I’m the sensitive one.  They expect it outta me!  You’re the strong, silent, bad-ass, refusing to be tamed by any woman.”

“Maybe I was just waiting to appreciate the one that was there all along.  Take a lesson, dumbass.”

Tony shook his head with complete disgust and playfully tapped Richie in the back of the head, effectively knocking the smile from the guitarist's face.  Had Denny’s attraction been that obvious?  To everyone but him?  “That what you think I’ve done?  Not appreciate her?”

Among midday Fifth Avenue traffic insanity, the car rolled to a stop in front of Tiffany & Co.  There were other stores closer to Jersey, but they’d chosen this one, knowing that the flagship store would have the widest selection. 

Tony reached for the door handle with a grin suitable to a tomcat with a mouth full of canary feathers.  “Not my place to say.  Now get your sensitive ass in gear.  I’ve got a woman with a naked finger, and I wanna fix that, pronto.”

Brown eyes grew troubled, and he silently slid out of the vehicle behind his ‘adopted’ little brother.  Was he screwing this up by going for it?  Or by letting it pass by?  His head hadn’t been this messed up since the last time he’d pledged his sobriety.

☠ ☢ ☠

“That’s my favorite,” Petey enthused, pointing to the thumbnail image on the screen.  Joel clicked to increase the size to full-screen.  She wryly acknowledged that it was not normal to be happy about seeing a close-up of her own butt on a computer monitor.  Most women would be justifiably mortified, but this wasn’t bad.  At all.  It was nearly possible to pretend it wasn’t her.

The perspective of this particular shot was from a point somewhere below her left hip, looking across the swell of her rump.  The edges of it were purposefully blurred and it revealed nothing beyond her bottom and lower back - and bits of a pink satin coverlet.  

Petey was posed on her stomach wearing only the black thong, and the imp tail had been artfully swirled back around so that the heart-shaped tip was showcased on her right, lily-white buttock.  “To Thine Own Self Be True” was clearly visible above the leather triangle of the thong, and her left hand – pink diamond shining in all its glory – was resting against her left buttock, hot pink nails lightly gripping the flesh.

It’s all of me in one single photograph.  Completely me.

“I’m not an artiste, but that one speaks to me.”  She laughed lightly, dismissing the fact that even she found the picture kind of hot.  “Which is weird, since all women hate their butts.”

“Dollface, your ass is almost as good as your boyfriend’s ,” Gavin staunchly informed her.  “If you let him knock you up, you would have the most ass-tastic children in the entire universe.”

The crimson stain flooded its way into Petey’s cheeks, and she glared at him from the corner of her eye.  “Gavin.  Enough with the ass commentary already, okay?”

Gavin hummed tactfully while Joel steered them back to the business at hand.  “The shot has fabulous composition, if I do say so.  Any chance of you signin’ a release on that one?  I’d like to use it in my portfolio.”

“Yeah, sure.”  Petey bent forward in the chair, pulling awkwardly at her skirt until it covered her to her ankles.  It hadn’t been too bad while it was happening, because Gavin had been there with his distracting catty comments, and Joel had been very encouraging, but now?  It felt a bit icky to be looking at herself in a seductive light while sitting between two other men, especially when her ass was being so clinically evaluated.

It’s over and Jon will love it.  Move on.

Checking the time on the computer screen, Petey saw that the whole shoot had only taken about ninety minutes, even with the costume change.  Happily, she realized that she should be able to make it home by three-thirty. 

Crap.  I haven’t checked my phone.  I wonder how Jon’s appointment went?

She turned to Joel, suddenly eager to finish everything up.  “So you can have an album with proofs of all the poses I’ve chosen and a CD with everything on it by tomorrow afternoon?  I realize it’s a rush thing, but I’m willing to compensate you for the inconvenience.”

“Piece of cake,” Joel affirmed, rolling back from the computer desk.  “The deposit check you’ve given me covers most of the cost , so I’ll have a courier deliver it around four tomorrow afternoon and send an invoice for the rest.  That work for you?”

Rummaging in her bag for the phone, she started to nod, then paused.  “The package will be wrapped up, won’t it?  No one will be able to look at the pictures without my knowing?”

“I’ll have Crystal wrap it up for ya with a bow and everything if ya want.” 

The set of her shoulders relaxed noticeably and she stood, sidling toward the exit and flicking the phone screen to life.  Two texts and a missed call – all from Jon.   The chicken salad she’d eaten earlier lurched in her stomach.  

“Perfect,” she agreed distractedly.  “Preferably in black, if that’s possible.  Ask the courier to leave the package with the doorman, and I’ll tell him when to expect the delivery.  I don’t want my fiancé to get his hands on it too soon.”

Phone clutched tightly in hand, she rushed through her thanks and goodbyes before moving swiftly out the door.  Poor Gavin was left to scurry after her, stopping at the elevator slightly breathless. 

“I would ask if your panties were on fire, but I was looking at them all afternoon so I know they’re not.  What gives, Dollface?  Why are you suddenly in a hurry?”

Eyes affixed to the small window of glass in her hand, Petey didn’t hear him. 

[1:41 PM]JON: Call me when you get done.

[2:12 PM]JON: Finished yet?

Then a missed call at two forty-four, but no voicemail.

“Jon had a doctor’s appointment,” she mumbled, anxiously tapping Jon’s number on the screen.  He picked up on the first ring, just about the same time that the elevator whisked its doors open.

“What’s wrong?” she asked without preamble, stepping into the car.  “I’m sorry I didn’t answer, but I was in the middle of my appointment.  I’m on my way home.”

Gavin silently joined her, pressing the button for the ground floor while she tried to piece together what Jon was saying. 

“..........fast....die....... hospital..........blood….…..… Richie……………Tony…….”

“What?  Say it again!”  She pulled the phone away from her ear, checking to see fi the call was still connected.  “Dammit, there’s no reception in this elevator.  Jon?  Jon!”

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,”  

“What’s the matter, Dollface?”  Gavin was unnaturally subdued, taking his cue from Petey’s agitation.

“…it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness,”

“I don’t know,” she snapped irritably.  “I heard hospital and dying and the damn phone cut out.”  Petey glared at the slow moving numbers on the panel.  “Move, dammit.  Move!”

The heavy doors had no more cracked when she forced herself through them, pushing into the lobby. 

Five bars.

She hit Jon’s number again, but it kicked immediately over to voicemail.

“…it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way-”

She tapped it again with the same result. 

“Dammit!” 

Petey latched onto Gavin’s arm and pulled him out onto the street.  The car was parked just a bit down the street, and Rocco hopped out as soon as he got his first glimpse of them.

“Rocco!  Who’s with Jon?”

The typically stoic man was taken slightly aback by her hyperanxiety.  “I…  Greg.  Greg’s with him.”

“Then call Greg.  Now!”

127 - Devil or Angel

“This guy is the best in the city,” Gavin enthused, holding the door. “It’s a good thing you’ve got the cash, Tinkerella.  He ain’t cheap and he doesn’t bump appointments for just anybody.”

She shrugged the bag up onto her shoulder and glided through the doorway ahead of him.  This was making her nauseous.  At least Rocco was staying in the car with the driver.  “He’s reputable though, right?”

“Oh puh-leeze,” Gavin intoned, calling the elevator with the push of a brass-encircled button.  “I’m not gonna let some sleazy creep at you.  We haven’t been friends long, but you should know I have more couth than that.”

The cherry-paneled car was just big enough to hold the two of them and, perhaps, two more passengers.

I’m glad no one else is here for this.

“You’re not leaving me alone for a minute.  Do you understand?”  She put a firm index finger into his ribs to compound the sincerity of her mandate.  “I will tell everyone you only pretend to be gay for the success of the salon.”  Petey had spent enough time there lately to well-acquaint herself with some of Gavin’s staff.  She felt comfortable enough with them to carry out that threat.  “Or that I caught you having sex with a woman.”

He snort vibrated the walls of the upward moving elevator.  “Like anybody would believe that.  I’m an extroverted gay man.  When a hot guy comes into the salon, my people see more than they really want to.  There’s no doubt which way my gay pride flag flies.”

Petey exhaled as the doors slid invitingly apart on the fourth floor of the Madison Avenue building.  The elegant writing on the wall before them declared that this, indeed, was the right destination. 

“Just stay with me.  I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Dollface.”  Gavin stepped aside, once again holding the door for her to enter.  “You are nothing short of glamorous.  We just don’t want your man to forget it.”

Blowing out a small breath, she stepped over the threshold, smiling at the beautiful young woman at the receptionist’s desk.  “Good morning,” the blonde beauty greeted her.  “Ms. Diehl?”

“Petey,” she confirmed, and gestured toward her companion.  “And this is Gavin.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Gavin intoned nasally, singularly unimpressed with the girl who was intended to be part of the office décor.

The buxom Aryan beauty emerged from behind her desk with a professionally angelic smile.  “I’m Crystal.  Joel didn’t want you to leave you in the waiting room, so please follow me.  We’ll go straight to the back.”

They dutifully shadowed the lovely Crystal, Gavin muttering in her ear, “With what he’s charging you, he damn well better not want to leave you waiting.  It gives you the chance to get pissed and escape.”

“Be quiet,” Petey hissed under her breath. 

“What?  I’m just saying he’s doing the right thing if he expects to keep important, wealthy clients.”

“Here we are.”  The discreet Crystal acted as though she hadn’t heard a word, ushering them into a tastefully decorated – for lack of a better word – bridal room.  The room was done in pale ecru with  soothing pastel accents in its chaise lounge and matching chairs.  The afternoon sunshine was peeking through the window dressed in a filmy white gauze, giving the room a pleasant yellow glow.

Crystal looked inquiringly toward Petey’s bag.  “I assume you have your wardrobe in there?”  Receiving an affirmative nod, she smiled encouragingly and indicated the pink and ecru striped dressing screen in the situated in the corner of the room.  “Great.  Go ahead and slip into your first outfit so Joel can see what he has to work with.  His assistant will be in to collect you shortly.  In the meantime, would either of you like some tea, soda or juice?”

“Nothing for me thanks,” Petey declined, but Gavin went on to request chamomile tea with lemon and honey.

What he has to work with?  How flattering…

“Get that look off your face.”  Gavin’s finger was wagging adamantly at her.  “We’re not leaving.  Take your coat off and dip into your goody bag.  Go with the leather first.”

Ten minutes later, Petey could do nothing but stare in the full-length oval mirror while Gavin bickered at her from the other side of the screen. 

“Girlfriend, my tea is long gone.  You have to be dressed by now.  Get that cute little ass of yours out here.”

“Almost done,” she called, slipping the headband into her wild waves, the little black horns barely noticeable in riot of dark curls.  Looking in the mirror, Petey took a careful, final inventory of each piece of her ensemble. 

There was the studded leather bra that barely concealed her nipples - and didn't conceal her aureoles.  As slutty as it looked, it made her feel sexy, especially when paired with the tiny web of strings and single leather triangle that made up her thong panties.  

Turning sideways, blood-red lips smiled at the triangle positioned over the cleft of her bottom – it acted as the base for a long, black tail whose spaded tip fell to the top of her knee-high leather boots.  She teetered only slightly on the spindly five-inch heels as she fingered the spiked dog collar.  Heavily lined, darkly lashed, violet eyes blinked critically back at her.  Petey had no idea how she could've done any more to physically transform herself into an imp.

Pulling on the fingerless, elbow-length gloves that were her final accessory, she, at last, dared to step around the barrier and present Gavin with the results.

“Holy hell,” he gasped, fanning himself with the little napkin that had been wrapped around his teacup.  “Dollface, that’s enough to make me check the wind direction on my gay flag. Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” He huffed loudly and fluttered one wicked eye at her in a saucy wink.  “Or should I say Lucifer?”

His reaction was everything she needed to relax, and Petey felt the tension ease away on the wings of her husky chuckle. “You do know how to charm a girl, don’t you?”

Oddly enough, he didn’t reply.  He was busy circling her, looking at the costume from every angle.  “Honey, when Jon Bon Jovi creams his pants looking at these boudoir photos, tell him a celebrity referral for the salon is payment enough.”

Her chuckle grew into a full-fledged guffaw.  “It’s not that good.”  Her eyes darted to the mirrored wall.  “Is it?”

“Oh, you don’t even realize, you poor thing.”  A soft, manicured palm came to pat her rosy cheek in pity.  “I picked out the best lingerie for you, ever.  Have water handy, love, because the man will get dehydrated quickly.  Ejaculation aside, even those glorious eight-foot pearly white teeth are going to sweat over that damn tail.”

Gavin was certifiably insane.  Seriously.  Petey was laughing so hard that tears started to well in her eyes.

“Oh, no you don’t!” her flamboyant friend near-bellowed.  “Don’t you dare let a single tear fuck with that makeup!  I spent half an hour on it and I will not let your warped sense of humor ruin it.  You have a photo shoot to get through, Jenna Jamison – or should I say Wednesday Addams?  You haven’t even gotten to the costume change yet.  Beauty has a price, baby, so get out your black Amex and think sultry!”

She obediently sobered.  Gavin had gone to a lot of trouble to help her find this outfit, get an appointment with the hottest boudoir photographer in the city and do her glamorization this morning.  Sultry was the least she could give him.  Besides, she needed his help with the second transformation.

As excited as she was about this outfit, the next one was just as exciting in a different way.  It personified the other side of her split personality.  The sheer, frothy pink gown and matching panties were a cloud of cotton candy pink whose sweetness would only tempered by her inky hair and cobweb stockings.  She needed Gavin to help her soften the makeup from Imp to Sugar.

Well, Sugar with a dash of Imp, anyway.

I wish I’d thought to get a black feather boa.

“Jesus H. Christ,” a male voice boomed, causing Petey’s head to whip toward the doorway.   There was a short, stocky man who was frozen there for a split second before barreling into the room.  The salt and pepper haired man was a whirling dervish of energy and he stalked to Petey, devouring her with an eagle-eye.  “I’ve gotta say I ain’t ever seen anybody in that kinda getup for wedding pics.  You marrying Ozzy Osbourne?”

“No,” Gavin rebutted on her behalf without missing a beat.  “Her man has better teeth and excellent enunciation.  Nor is he one breath away from a really long dirt nap.”

His sharp eyes looked Gavin up and down with a mild curiosity.  “Me-owww!  Down pussy cat, I was just askin’.”  He turned to Petey.  “I’m Joel, and you are a photographer’s wet dream.  I’m tellin’ ya now, the bra has to go.  I had the picture in my head as soon as I saw you, and this ain’t it.  I want you on your elbows, breasts down on a red satin bed, with that that tail stuck in the air draping to the side.  Whoever your demon king is gonna lose it on sight.”

Gavin nodded smugly, nudging her with a pointy shoulder.  “Told ya.  If you can hoist a gay man’s flag, a straight man doesn’t have a chance.”

“You got a costume change Ms. Diehl?”

If this guy was going to see hear near-to-naked, he might as well call her by her first name.  “It’s Petey, and yes.  It’s pretty well the polar opposite of this.  Pink and fluffy.”

“Diversity in a woman.  I like it,” he approved boisterously, circling her like a lion inspecting its next meal.  It should have made her squeamish, but Gavin’s continually nodding head made it okay for some reason. 

“Pink ink, huh?”  He had spotted her tattoo and then ducked around for a glimpse of her left hand.  “And did I see…?  Yes.  Yes, I did.  A pink diamond.  That’s gonna make a helluva shot.”  Joel finally lost the steamroller persona and smiled engagingly. “Petey, this is going to be some of my best work ever.  I can just feel it.  Are you ready to get started?”

She slid a look at Gavin, who was all but bouncing with excitement, and then reverted back to the photographer.  Butterflies were running rampant in her stomach.  She was going to allow herself to be captured for all of eternity looking like this.  She was desperate to keep bondage pictures hidden, but she was going to immortalize her imp-dom.  What sense did that make?

And not just that, she was giving it as a gift.  Granted, it was a gift to a self-admitted pervert, but still…

Jon, if you don’t ‘cream your pants’, you’d better at least make me cream mine. 

126 -Show Must Go On

He put the listening device down with a condescending sneer.  “Fluffy headed fool was lucky I didn’t kill him.  I could have.”

Daniel had spent countless hours listening to the goings-on in the Bongiovi penthouse since he had implanted the devices yesterday.  In some cases, finding out more than he wanted to know.

That debauched harlot and her wanton behavior turns my stomach.  I’m surprised the filthy slut isn’t begging him to sodomize her.

What had begun purely as a need for information was now a quest for vengeance.  She had played him for a fool, not once, but twice, making the information secondary at this point.  The imbeciles who were after the data had been sufficiently detained with his replicated findings.  He would continue to distract them with his sleight of hand until he could joyously torture the information from her, or come up with it himself.  The girl wasn’t brilliant; she merely had a photographic memory, despite the professions of some ostentatious intelligence test administered by a pretentious organization. 

The craving for vengeance was the primary reason he’d allowed the Bon Jovi man to live.  It was far more satisfying to know she was sniveling at the singer’s pain, and constantly looking over her shoulder fearing for the aging pop icon’s well-being.

I wager to say it wouldn’t be much of a loss.  Has his group even done anything since the eighties?

He shifted in the seat of his rented taxi cab.  The Indian fellow driving it had been more than happy to leave it in his custody for a nominal fee - and a little coercion.  Soon, however, he would need to go find a shower and something to eat.  Before he did, he reviewed his surveillance notes.

Despite Daniel’s overwhelming annoyance, there had been several bits of significant information to further his cause.  Plans a prominent family dinner, a bachelor party and – he snarled his lip – a wedding had all been duly noted. So much frivolity to be had in the midst of his own fun.

Now… to decide which of these glorious events I shall attend.

☠ ☢ ☠

Richie shook his head to clear the cobwebs as he ambled down the jetway.  He slept on planes okay, but it took him a few minutes after landing to get back to the real world.  It was seven-thirty in the morning in New York City, not his best time of day to begin with. 

He’d located the driver at baggage claim and was following him to the hired car. 

A fuckin’ cold seven-thirty in the morning.

Shivering, he reached into the pockets of his long coat and withdrew the gloves Denny had reminded him to bring along.

“Thanks, man.”  The driver nodded and closed Richie into the vehicle, hurrying around to put his bags in the trunk and slide behind the wheel.

“Where we heading, Mr. Sambora?”

“Four Seasons, please.”

The dark luxury car swung out into the early morning traffic and Richie fired up his iPhone.  He had a niggling desire to call Denny, but the time difference prevented him from following through.  A text message would suffice.

[7:42 AM]RICH: Hey Den.  Made it to NYC.  Just checking in. 

Last night had been… interesting. 

While he’d originally been intent upon hounding her to come with him, after they’d kissed…  It was just better that she hadn’t.  They needed time apart.  Because, rather than clearing everything up for him, that kiss had done nothing but complicate things further.

☠ ☢ ☠

“What time is your appointment?” Petey asked for the third time, sticking her head out of the bedroom where she was getting dressed.  He was being uncooperative and cranky since she’d refused his amorous advances this morning.  It hadn’t left her in a much better mood than he was.

“One.”  His head was buried in his laptop and he made no effort to extract it.

She straightened her long velvet skirt, and pushed a matching headband into her hair before tugging at the poofy  sleeves of her pirate-like blouse.  Her face was devoid of makeup and her contacts were clear today.  She was taking the pink and purple ones with her though, unsure which were going to suit her needs best today.  Maybe she should put feelers out.

“Stop being pissy,” she demanded, leaning in over the back of the chair to place a swift kiss on his neck.  “We’ll have as much sex as your old, weathered body will handle after the wedding.  Tie me to the bed if you want, just stop pouting.”

He drew upright, twisting his head around with an uplifted eyebrow.  “You gonna be my sex slave?”

“Aren’t I already?”

That earned her a smile.  “Most of the time.”

Petey rested her backside against the desk’s edge, propping her hands alongside her hips.  “Up until last night, I would’ve done anything, anywhere, anytime with you.  Saturday night I will gladly resume that attitude.”

“Jesus,” he groaned.  “Stop already, you’re making it worse.  Now I can’t stop imagining you spread out over my desk.”

She traced the contour of his cheekbone with the back of her knuckles.  “Personally, I was thinking of being spread over you and your chair, but I’m willing to do both.”

“Fuck it.”  The growl had barely registered with her when he snatched her wrist, pulling her toward him so quickly that she toppled over his lap.

Petey was so shocked that she could do nothing but dangle there and squeak over her shoulder, “What are you doing?”

Jon was busily flipping her skirt up and pulling  her tights and panties down far enough to bare her buttocks.  “I owe you a pink ass from that Lemma stunt yesterday morning, my little imp.  Your teasing just made it time to pay the piper.”  The calluses of his fingers scraped lightly over her bare bottom.  “You ready for your punishment little girl?”

Forget the fact that she was denying him all sexual contact.  This was hot, and she couldn’t keep herself from squirming against his lap.  But she still had to save face.

“Jon,” she said sternly.  “Let me up.  No sex, remember?”

“Who said anything about sex?”  A sharp palm struck her right butt cheek, then soothed away the slight sting that tingled in its wake.  “You have to learn that you can’t tease me and expect to get away with it.” 

She was a sick puppy, but when he exerted his authority over her this way…?  Criminey.  Another slanting blow was delivered to the other cheek and Petey couldn’t smother the sound of pleasure rumbling in the back of her throat. 

“I see how ya are,” he crooned, another smack resonating in her ears.  “Not only are you a naughty girl, but you’re a dirty little girl too.   You like to be spanked.”  His voice dropped an octave.  “Don’t you, Baby?”

Despite her best efforts, Petey’s hips wriggled against the hard thighs she was draped over, and she could easily feel his arousal prodding the side of her hip.  His track pants weren’t doing anything to hide the way this affected him.  “Jon.  Stop it.”  If she didn’t get away from him now, they would end up having sex in this chair.  Struggling, she managed to get her feet firmly on the floor so that she could stand.  “Dammit, you’ve gotten enough retribution.”

One firm hand on her bicep prohibited a clean escape and his voice was no more than a hot rasp in her ear when he pronounced, “Make no mistake about it, Sugar…  You’re not getting away, I’m letting you go.  If I were so inclined, you wouldn’t get away until you were wrung out with orgasmic exhaustion.  Does that scare you?”

Her thighs, with an accord all their own, clenched and each individual vertebrae tingled.  “I’m looking forward to that inclination.  Does that scare you?” she countered softly, heart racing when his hand abruptly released her.  Petey took the opportunity to stand and put her clothing to rights, all the while pretending to be unscathed by the encounter. 

“Don’t you have someplace to be?” he growled resentfully.

Petey smiled softly at his grumpiness, dreading the next two day as the skirt swirled down around her calves.  Call her a hussy, but she hadn’t known how good sex could be until him.  She was starved for the way it made her feel. 

Morals you cheap tart.  Remember those? 

“Yes, I do as a matter of fact.  Gavin’s salon at ten and then I have another appointment at one.  I probably won’t be home…” That label still evoked sentimental emotions in her.  “…until three or four.  I guess Rocco’s going with me?”

He put his elbows on the desk, neck dipping so that he could frustratedly rough his hair.  “He’s about the only one I trust, so yeah.  I’ll take one of the others.” 

“What about Matt?”

“What about him?” he asked coolly, his tone and posture an out-and-out dare to take it any further.

She loved a good dare.

“Take him with you.”

“No.”

“Why?”

He passed a distracted hand over the chest of his faded orange Crush t-shirt and glared offhandedly at her.  “Because I don’t like people knowing my business.  The family does not need to be involved in my health care.”

She didn’t want anybody in her health care business either, so she could hardly chastise him.

“Okay.  Now the important question.”  Petey offered him an endearing smile.  “Which color of my contact lenses do you like best?” 

“That’s a helluva topic jump,” he remarked dryly.  “You’re not gonna bitch at me about Matt?”

“No.  As long as you have somebody with you, it doesn’t matter to me who.”  Her eyes slid to the clock behind his head.  “Focus, please.  I’ve got to get going.  What color contacts?”

“Why?”

Indulging in a hugely dramatic sigh, she rolled her eyes with an over-the-top exaggeration.  She’d picked on him enough and wanted to lighten the air.  “Because I asked you.  What color eyes do you want to marry?”

“Believe it or not, that’s a hard question.”  Jon crossed his arms and studied her naked eyes thoughtfully.  “You were wearing purple the first time I saw you, so I have a soft spot for those, but on our wedding day I wanna look at your eyes.”  A lone finger reached up to tangle itself in her hair, tugging playfully.  “That way I know you’re not hiding anything from me.”

She captured his hand and threaded their fingers together.  “I’m done hiding.  You know everything now.”  It would be so easy to let this get sappy, but that’s not what they were about.  “Speaking of which, I should tell you I’m going back to my natural hair color for the wedding.  No pink.”

“Yeah?  How come?”

“Wrong shade of pink, Gavin tells me.”  Petey shrugged.  “Who am I to argue with a Fairy Gaymother, right?”

“I suppose…” Jon’s tone was dubious.

“Hey.  Don’t knock Gavin until after you see your wedding gift.  It was his idea.”  That was her other appointment today, as a matter of fact.  One she was still a bit squeamish over, but Gavin was adamant that Jon would be over the moon about it.  Not having a more inspired idea of her own, she followed his lead and let him schedule this afternoon’s adventure. 

He allowed his chin bounce against his chest, but kept his commentary to a mumbled, “Christ almighty.”

Leaning in, she skimmed her lips over his bristly jaw, briefly pausing to inhale the scent of Jon.  He wasn’t the only one who would be suffering over this no sex thing.  “Chin up, little buckaroo.  It’s only one gift out of your life.  If you don’t like it, I’ll make it up to you.  Okay?  I’ve gotta go.” 

She leaned back, waiting for him to lift his face.  When he did, she softly claimed his mouth for a real kiss.  “Richie should be in the city by now.  Call him to go with you.  I’d say you guys still have stuff to talk about.  By the way, I left your ties for the wedding hanging on the closet door.  Yours is black, his is pink.”   

Slowly backing out of the room, she rattled off a couple more random thoughts.  “Oh, and we still need to figure out what to do about my apartment.  And you need to tell me where we’re going on our honeymoon so I know what to pack.”  She paused in the doorway.  “Jonny?  I love you.  Call me as soon as you finish at the doctor.  Please?”

“Get your ass outta here.”  The words were gruff, but his tone was nothing but sheer affection as he stood and stretched.  “I got shit to do and you’re holdin’ me up.  See you this afternoon.”

One fist huffily landed on her hip.  “Unromantic or not, you can do better than that.  Let me give you the lead in one more time.  ‘I love you, Jonny.’”  Petey flicked her hand in the air encouragingly, as though trying to draw it out of him.

“I love you, Sugar,” he intoned obediently, grinning ruefully.  “Now go before Gavin has a fairy hissy fit.  I don’t need both an imp and a fairy on my ass.”

☠ ☢ ☠

[11:15 AM]RICH: On my way.  Timing cool?

Tony stacked his hands on the top of his head and leaned back in his desk chair.  The timing was perfect.  His project was done.  He could make improvements, but he would find things that could be tweaked until the day he died.  That was just the nature of the job.  It was good and – he thought – it would serve his purpose well.

[11:16 AM]TONY: Ready to roll.

125 - Every Beat of My Heart

“Literally, yes.  I am right in front of you.  Figuratively, it’s a moot point, because it’s not an option.”

Richie growled in the back of his throat.  Denny was looking at him, but her eyes were shifty and she was dancing around the subject with more speed and finesse than one of those Riverdancers.  It was making him irritable and impatient.  His grip on her chin firmed.

“Denny.  I wanna know the damn truth.”

With a single toss of her head, she was, free with her spine pressed against the back of the glider.  “This would be a good time to quote Jack Nicholson and tell you that ‘you can’t handle the truth’, but the fact is I can’t handle the truth.”

His knees were getting stiff and he wanted to pay more attention to what she was saying than his creaking body parts.  Richie swung himself onto the seat next to her, close enough to bump their thighs together if he chose, but he kept his distance – barely.

There were things swirling in her eyes, along with a fair dose of confusion that he wanted to know more about.  He waited mutely, knowing she wouldn’t be able to stand the silence for long.

He was right.

Denny turned to face him, purpose lining her pretty features.  “I love working for you.  It’s fun, it’s interesting, and I’m doing what I enjoy.  On top of that, you’re a sweet, considerate soul and you never treat me like ‘just’ an employee.  You’ve shared yourself, unfiltered, almost since day one, and I feel like we’ve become close friends.”

“You’re one of my dearest friends,” he confirmed quietly, unable to let it go unanswered, wanting her to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that she wasn’t just one of his countless acquaintances.

Her head barely moved with a nod of acknowledgement.  “I always tell you the truth, don’t I?  Even when it’s a hard truth.”

“Darlin’,” he chided with a strained smile, “Stop beatin’ around the bush and answer the damn question.  Yes, you always tell me the truth.”

Her hands came up to grip her elbows, for either warmth or comfort, he couldn't tell which, but she never looked away.  “I’ve gotten a little more invested than friendship.”

A slow, easy grin spread over his face like warm honey.  “Answer the question, Denny.  Are you waiting for me to reach out and take you?”

“Stop asking me that,” she whispered.  “I never should have said it.”

The shadows grew longer with the sun making a graceful exit from the sky.  Her face was partially hidden in the dusk, but he still saw the conflict in her eyes.  She wanted it, but she was afraid.  Hell, knowing for sure that he hadn’t misinterpreted anything made him a little afraid, too. 

Denny had been his rock and salvation.  His right – and left – hand.  They shared a lot of common interests, and she was immersed in nearly every facet of his life, but…  He’d never thought of her that way before yesterday.  Had he, like she said, been missing what was right in front of his face?

“No.”  Richie finally gave in to his natural inclination to touch her, dragging an open palm down her arm from shoulder to elbow and holding there.  His fingers curled around hers, willing their heat to seep into her cool skin.  “I’m glad you did, even if it has been driving me crazy ever since, wondering what you meant.”

“I’m sorry.  Your… late night phone calls to certain people make me crazy.  It’s the only excuse I’ve got for cutting loose like that.”

“What?”  The callus on his thumb scraped along her index finger and he angled himself closer.  “You want me call you when I’m lonely late at night?”

“Yes.  Not as your whore, though.”  There was no venom in her statement, just plainly-stated fact.

That didn’t make it any less painful.  Richie winced.   “Ouch, woman.  You’re harsh.”

“Not harsh.  Honest.  You use her as a prostitute and the price is way too high.”

What could he say to that?  Even as he’d been dialing, he knew those calls had been a bad idea.  They never did anything but compound the loneliness.  Getting off wasn’t enough reward for dealing with the rest of it.

“If you’re being honest, I’d like to do the same.”  Releasing her elbow, he stretched his arm along the back of the glider.  It was a seemingly impersonal pose, yet he almost encircled her with his arm.  “The idea… surprised me.  You’re always so professional, that I didn’t have any hint that there might be more.  Since yesterday, though, I can't seem to stop thinking about it - and you.”

“Stop,” she instructed.  “If this goes any further, it’s going to destroy our professional relationship and make things awkward.”

“Darlin’, right now I don’t give a fuck about awkward.”  The tips of his fingers skimmed through her loose hair and he inclined his head.  “Right now I don’t give a fuck about anything but kissing you.”

Richie stole ever-so-slowly closer, until there was no more than a sliver of air between their faces.  Denny’s lips were barely parted, silently begging his kiss, but he wouldn’t give it without her implicit permission.

“Den?”

I don’t know where this is going, but please let me take it there.

"One kiss won’t screw everything up will it?" she asked, almost timidly. "I hate myself for being weak, but I want that one kiss."

Richie had heard all he needed to.

“It won’t.  I promise,” he vowed, tilting his head and sliding a hand into her silky blonde hair.  Richie’s lips glanced gently over hers and he went back for a second pass, savoring their softness.   Her gentle sigh invited him to slide his tongue inside for a more thorough taste and he gratefully accepted that invitation, drinking deeply of her dark, spicy flavor.  His hand slithered free of her hair when she wound her arms around his neck and sank into his chest.

His promise had been heartfelt, and he meant it with every fiber of his being, but after kissing her…?

Richie was afraid he’d just told the biggest lie of his life.

☠ ☢ ☠

“I’m done,” Jon said around a huge yawn.  “I might not be able to go to sleep, but my bed is calling.”  He extended a hand to Petey.  “You coming?”

“Uh.  No?”  Petey hadn’t told him about Gavin instructions on not being a ‘ho.  Not that she was strictly following orders from her friend, but it kind of made sense.  Their wedding night would be nothing but another night in bed, with rings.  “I thought I’d sleep in the guest room until the wedding.”

Frowning, he rubbed a distracted hand over his chest.  “Well, un-think it.  I want you in my bed.”

Petey sucked in her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth.  “No.”

“No?”  He spread his feet wide, one hand resting on his hip while the other still rubbed at his chest.  “Just like that, no?  I expect my wife to sleep with me.  You get that, right?”

She stood, tucking hair behind both of her ears, tamping down her temper.  “I do, and I fully agree, but I’m not your wife yet.  Our first night in bed as husband and wife should be different from the night before, and the night before that.”

Deep lines etched themselves in his cheeks and forehead.  Petey thought he was nearing his peak of petulance, until his face fell ashen and she noticed how much force he was using to push against his sternum.

Her defensiveness turned to protectiveness in the blink of an eye.  “Jon?  What’s wrong, baby?”

“You’re being unnecessarily obstinate, that’s what’s wrong.  There’s a crazy piece of fuck out there intent on inflicting pain on one or both of us.  I’m stressed as all hell, and asking for nothing more than to be able to reach out in the middle of the night and know you’re safe.”

He grimaced, bending at the waist and clutching his chest, quietly swearing, “Christ.”

“Jon?  Are you having chest pain?”  If he wasn’t, she certainly was.  He was pale underneath the gray pallor of his skin and he was breathing shallowly.  Petey grabbed his shoulders and guided him back onto the couch.  “Sit down.  I’m calling an ambulance.”

“You’re not calling an ambulance,” he petulantly decreed from behind closed lids.

“Oh yeah?”  She bent to scoop up the phone, arching her brow belligerently.  “Watch me.”  Petey tapped out 9-1-1 with quivering fingers.  It was probably just aftereffects from the electric shock, but there was the outside chance that he was having a heart attack.

“But when she saw my woeful state,

Straight in her heart did mercy come”

His eyes were wide open now and he latched onto her wrist, preventing her from bringing the device to her ear.  “Put the phone down.  The pain is almost gone.”

“Look at my face,” she ordered, completely devoid of anything but grit and determination.  “See how much I care.  You should have gotten medical attention yesterday, but I let you bully me out of it.”  She plucked the phone away with her free hand and brought it to her ear.

“Chiding that tongue that ever sweet

Was used in giving gentle doom,”

“Hang up the phone, Petey.  I’m not going to the fucking hospital.  If you’re that freaked out, I’ll call my guy.  He’ll come over if he thinks it’s necessary.”

The disembodied voice came over the line, “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” 

“One second please.”  She spoke to him, away from the receiver.  “You’re not lying to me?  The pain is really gone?”

His color was better, but he wasn’t looking at her.  He was gazing absently around the room, still pawing at his chest.  “Yeah.  It’s gone, honest to God.”

“You’ll call your physician now?”

“If you’ll hang up the damn phone and grab mine, yes.”  Typically crystal clear blue eyes gazed agitatedly upon her artificially green ones.  “Hang up the phone.”

Unsure whether to believe him or not, she hesitated before giving him the benefit of the doubt.  “I’m sorry,” she returned her attention to the 9-1-1 operator.  “It turns out there’s no emergency.  I apologize.”  Her phone was exchanged for his and she pressed it into his hand.  “What is it with you and hospitals?”

“Hospitals are for sick people.  I don’t like ‘em.”  With efficient motions that were much more Jon-like, he accessed his contact list and searched out the correct number before tapping it.  He waited impatiently for the recipient of his call to answer, all but glaring at Petey while he did.  “If I ain’t bleedin’ out, don’t ever call an ambulance for me.  We will fight over that, I promise you.”

“Shut up, you stubborn ass.  If you’re hurt, I’ll do whatever it takes to get you un-hurt.”  Rough fingers shoved into his hair, and Petey tilted his head back to fiercely glower at him.  “I don’t care if we fight or not, got it?”

“If you weren’t such a pain in the- “  He broke off as his physician picked up the call.  “Neil?  Jon Bon Jovi.  I hate to bother you so late in the evening, but…”

Petey settled in next to Jon on the couch, hand draped over his thigh as though she could tell if he was hurting by mere touch.  Really, it was just a comforting technique for herself.  If he felt solid, warm and alive, then he was.

The details of Jon’s encounter with high-voltage electricity were briefly outlined for the good doctor and Petey waited on edge as Jon listened to the reply. 

“Okay.  Yeah.  No, I’ve got somebody to stay with me.  Sure.  You’ll have your office give me a call in the morning then?  Thanks, Neil.  I appreciate it.”  He barely got the call disconnected before Petey was pouncing.

“Well?  What did he say?  Is he going to see you?”

“Relax, Baby,” he groaned, reclining into the sofa.  “He said it was likely that the chest pains were residual from the shock.  Taking my overall physical health and symptoms into consideration, he said I didn’t need to do anything tonight, but he wants to see me tomorrow.”  When she would get up in his face with an ‘I told you so’, he held up a hand for silence.  “As a precaution.  He said if anything else weird happens tonight, to call him back.” 

Jon turned his head toward Petey, the shadow of a grin twitching at his lips.  “He did recommend that somebody stay with me though – just in case.  Guess you’ll be in bed with me after all.”

She couldn’t even work up a good head of steam to be mad at his high-handed tone.  Petey scooted close to him, draping an arm over his waist and snuggling into his side.  “To sleep, but that’s it.  No sex.”

Unbelievably, he didn’t gloat, offering only a soft grunt of obligatory discontent.  He let his head fall to the side, cheek rubbing against the top of her head.  “You worry too damn much, but I love you anyway.”

Anger, annoyance, anxiety were all crowded out of her heart by the much softer emotions dwelling there.  There was no one in the world she would rather fight with than this man, because the end of those fights held moments of sweetness.

“I love you, too, Jonny.”

Change in Posting Schedule

I have to go out of town for a while, so I won't be posting quite as regularly for the next week or two.  These are the days I can commit to as of now.  The time of day should stay about the same.  Thanks for understanding.

Friday, June 22
Sunday, June 24
Wednesday, June 27
Saturday, June 30

124 - Hide Your Heart

[5:30 PM]RICH: Don’t guess u changed ur mind yet?

During their ride to the appearance, it had been all business.   That made sense to him, because it was time to work.  Then, after, when he wanted to talk to Denny about going to Jersey again, she disappeared.  Sending him on his way home, she claimed she had other things to do and left him to his own devices.

She didn’t want to be around you.

[5:31 PM]DENNY: Not going to. Put ur big boy pants on n deal with it.

His full lips flattened into a line of displeasure.

[5:32 PM]RICH: I’m gonna say please.  If u don’t come, I’ll find a work reason 4 u to b there.

[5:32 PM]DENNY: U wouldn’t do that.

[5:33 PM]RICH: Try me Darlin.

It was behavior totally outside of his norm, but he was afraid if he went to Jersey for three or four days, she would never talk to him about yesterday.  The situation called for drastic.  He was doing drastic.

[5:34 PM]DENNY: Why r u doin this?

[5:35 PM]RICH: Told u I wanna talk. U can’t avoid me on a plane.

Evidently, she had no answer for that.  Text messaging was convenient, but he had no idea what direction this little chat was really going.  Without voice inflection or facial expressions, he was taking the words exactly as they were written.

He’d been studying the screen so intently that the chime of the incoming text startled him.

[5:38 PM]DENNY: We can talk now

[5:39 PM]RICH: Face 2 face not phone

Come on, Den.  Don’t chicken out on me.

[5:41 PM]DENNY: Be there in 20 min

He let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding.

[5:42 PM]RICH: Thanx. Be careful

Time enough to finish packing.  I’ve still gotta find that black suit.

☠ ☢ ☠

“Did your mom make it home okay?” Jon asked from his position behind the bar.  He was pouring them both a glass of wine after dinner.  Petey had the jukebox play the Eagles and they were going to take a minute to decompress from their hectic life before bed.

“She did.  I just got a text reminding me that we still need someone to officiate the ceremony.  I think – I know – she’s more excited about the wedding than I am.  Thank you,” she murmured, accepting the Pinot Grigio he offered her before ensconcing himself next to her on the couch.  Smiling, she watched him bend one knee, pulling his heel to dig into the cushion he was sitting on.  He always had his legs bent up, or over the arm of the chair.  Jon couldn’t just sit and relax.  He was twisty.

“But you’re happy with the wedding stuff?  The rings we found today?”

Hers was a narrow platinum band of alternating pink and black diamonds that matched her engagement ring.  His band was also platinum, but with a black titanium inlay that was laser-etched with skulls. 

Jon smirked into his glass.  He liked it.  A lot.  There were perks to having a Goth wife.

Wife.  That feels weird.  You would think the prenup would have made it real, but that thought just did it.

“I’m ecstatic with everything.  I can’t believe how smoothly it’s all coming together.”

“Money talks,” he remarked dryly, reaching for her foot and tugging at the glossy pink toes.  “You should know that by now.”  Watching her throat muscles work as she drank her wine, he saw the excitement wane to be replaced with a distant thoughtfulness.   “Something wrong?  More than usual, anyway?”

The ghost of a smile accompanied her absent head shake as she stretched to put her empty glass on the coffee table.  “I was thinking about Richie.  He said he might bring his assistant.  Any idea why?”

Jon huffed a little disgustedly.  “He didn’t say and I didn’t ask, but I’m hoping he’s starting to see the light.”

“Oh?”  A careless hand ran through her hair, leaving it more tousled than usual.  “How so?”

“Mm.”  He cupped her calf with his free hand, massaging along its length until she purred.  “Denny has a thing for him, I’m pretty sure.  Has for years, but he’s never noticed.  She would be good to him.”

“And you haven’t mentioned it? You’re supposed to be his friend.”

“Sugar,” he laughed.  “If I told Richie Sambora every time a girl had a thing for him, I’d never get any-fuckin’-thing else done.  We stay out of each other’s love lives.  That is…”  She squirmed when he skimmed over the back of her knee.  “…until you came along.”

“Don’t blame me.  I told both of you I didn’t want a relationship.” Petey removed her leg from his grasp and scooted close with an impish smile, kissing the corner of his mouth.  “I can’t help it that you hate taking no for an answer.”

☠ ☢ ☠

“Richie?”

Denny didn’t knock or ring the bell, she just opened the door and stuck her head in, as per usual.  It often felt as though she spent more time here than she did at her own house.  She spent more time going through the door, anyway.

“I’m upstairs!  Come on up!”  From the sounds of it, he was in his bedroom, probably packing.

She closed her eyes and cursed quietly.  This never got any easier.  Bracing herself, she resolutely mounted the steps, firmly ensconced in the cloak of professional demeanor.   It was only a few steps down the upstairs hall, and she hesitated only long enough for a deep breath before casually placing a hand on the door facing and peering in with a smile.  “About ready to go?”

His dimples went full-throttle at seeing her, and his eyes did that happy dancing thing.  “Yeah, just about.”  He held up two shirts, both black button-downs.  One of them was slimmer cut, with wide cuffs.  Other than that, they were identical.  “Which shirt?  Petey said black suit and black shirt, but I think either one would be okay.  What do you think?”

The man loved people.  No doubt about it.  She’d learned long ago that his joy at seeing her was the same as the joy at seeing anybody else.  The lesson was too slow in coming, as far as she was concerned.  By the time she realized it, she’d already developed a schoolgirl crush on him.

“Since you’ve lost weight, the one with the wider cuffs looks better on you.”

It was part of her duties to give unbiased opinions on a variety of personal matters.  Hence, the ‘personal’ in personal assistant.  In a lot of respects, she was like his wife. 

Jon isn’t his only sexless marriage partner.

“Thanks.”  The shunned shirt went back in the closet, while the favored one went in the garment bag with his suit.  It was zipped up and hung on the doorknob of the closet, and his battered carryon was plopped onto the floor next to it.  She knew from history that it had a pair of pants, a couple of t-shirts and all his toiletries, along with his laptop.

“Thank you for coming.” 

While she’d been engrossed in his luggage, he had stealthily glided across the carpeted floor to stand in front of her.  Denny lifted her face, a little startled by his close proximity.

“You didn’t give me a lot of other options,” she reminded him caustically. 

“Nope,” was his amicable reply.  “You wanna talk here…”  Richie gestured to the bed, where they’d chatted on at least half a dozen occasions, usually to review the itinerary while he was packing. “…or downstairs?”

That was a no-brainer.  “Downstairs.”  She’d answered so fast that Denny felt she should qualify the statement.  “I’d like something to drink.”

Richie didn’t offer any indication of what he was thinking, his expression remaining friendly, yet impartial as he encouraged her to precede him down the staircase. 

For a hot second, Denny was glad she was wearing the jeans that made her flat butt look a not quite so flat.  Then she felt completely inappropriate for even thinking it.  It didn’t matter what he wanted to talk about, Richie was her boss, and a damn good one at that. 

You should have kept your mouth shut.  If he wants to mindlessly screw his way through Hollywood, that’s his business. 

“I’ll grab you a Diet Coke and meet you on the deck.” 

Sitting on the glider that overlooked the lake, she supposed that one of LA’s perks was comfortable January temperatures.  He would run into much colder weather back in Jersey.  He hated winter back East.  That reminded her…

Denny pulled the phone from her back pocket and made a note to remind Richie to take his gloves.  The ones Jon had sent him for Christmas.

“Here you go, sweetheart.”

Endearments like that were intrinsically Richie.  They didn’t mean any more than the demonstrative greetings.

She silently accepted the iced glass of soda and took a small sip as he leaned against the railing, obstructing her view of the lake.  He crossed his ankles and looked at her expectantly.  “So…  Let’s talk about that parting remark at lunch yesterday, shall we?  You said it was ‘right in front of my face’. Tell me what’s right in front of my face, Denny.  Tell me what’s already mine, if I’d just reach out and take it.  No bullshit, no games.  Just tell me.”

She’d had more than twenty-four hours to come up with an answer to this, and she still wasn’t able to come up with anything other than she acted impulsively and had a big mouth.  She turned the tables on him to buy a few more useless minutes.

“What do you want most in the world, Richie?”

He didn’t even pretend to think about it.  “You seemed as though you knew the answer to that.  I’d like to hear it from you.”

Crap.

Taking care of his needs had become so second nature, she half-considered him a child.  It was a major oversight on her part, because he wasn’t a child.  He was an intelligent man whose time was better served by not getting caught up in the mundane details of his job.  Last night he told her he wasn’t helpless, and it was very true.  He’d merely made a choice early on to delegate the details of life to someone else, so that he could focus his energies on creativity and people.

Just tell him.  Have it done with and tell him.

“You want somebody to love you for who you are, with their whole heart, the same way that you love.  Whatever you tell the rest of the world, I believe in my heart that what you want most is love.”

The sky was fading to gray as the sun sank into the sky, and the breeze off the lake cooled the air considerably.  Her thin sweater was allowing the chill to break through, and the cold drink in her hand didn’t help matters.  She put the glass on the deck, glancing up to find him studying her intently.  That particular expression always made her feel that Richie was seeing deeper than he was meant to see.

“I’d say that’s a fair statement.  Go on.”

She didn’t have any more to say.  Admitting that her schoolgirl crush had long-since morphed into a significant adult emotion wasn’t feasible.  It would screw up her current existence.

“That’s it,” she told him quietly. 

Crouching before her, he looked for some hidden mystery in her eyes.  “I don’t think so,” he differed.  Richie didn’t reach for her.  As a matter of fact, his wrists were dangling loosely over bent knees.  But he figuratively reached out to her with the same effect as if he’d touched her.  “Are you what’s right in front of my face, Den?  Are you waiting for me to reach out and take you?”

The words were merely a repetition of what she’d said yesterday, but they pooled like a warm oasis deep in her belly.  How many nights had she dreamed about Richie taking her?  Too many to count.  It was her favorite fantasy.

“It doesn’t matter, Richie.  We have a working relationship – a good working relationship.  I need this job to support my three teenagers and I can’t put that in jeopardy.”

“Denny.”  Now he lifted a hand to capture her chin.  His thumb trekked lazily along the line of her jaw while his index finger curled firmly around her chin.  “Nothing’s in jeopardy.  Tell me.  Are you what’s in front of me?”