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.