Monday is for Tourism

Monday morning, Jennifer woke to a light knock on her door. She’d been having the most wonderful dream that Richie had stayed last night, and just held her all night long. Smiling, knowing he was in the hallway outside her room, she went to the door. “Yes?” she asked.

“Room service,” Richie said, trying to disguise his voice.

“You must have the wrong room” she laughed breathily. “I didn’t order room service. In fact, I hadn’t even gotten out of my nice warm bed yet. In fact,” she said. “I’m not even dressed.”

Richie groaned at the image that put in his head. “Open the damned door, Jennifer. I know you know it’s me out here.” He heard her giggle which made him chuckle, and when she opened the door, he just stared at her. Tendrils of hair had escaped her braid during the night, but for the most part, she looked exactly as she did when he left her last night except she wasn’t wearing a robe. The only thing that gave away that she’d been in bed was a faint pillow crease on her cheek.

Jennifer stared at Richie for a long minute before stepping back to let him in. He’d dressed for her today, wearing a burgundy dress shirt unbuttoned far more than halfway down his chest, un-tucked over tight black jeans. He winked at her perusal of him, and leaned in to give her a kiss. “Good morning, darlin’.”

“Morning,” Jennifer answered, huskily.

It didn’t escape Richie’s notice that her nipples puckered under the light material of her camisole at his kiss. He quickly pushed the cart he’d brought into the room before he did something she wasn’t ready for. Jennifer shook off the sudden stab of lust that pierced her body, and followed him to the sitting area. “And what are we having for breakfast this morning?” she asked, sitting in her chair and trying to get control of herself.

“Cold cereal and sliced fruit,” Richie answered, and removed the domed platter lid with a flourish before moving to sit across from her.

Jennifer laughed. He’d brought her sliced strawberries, dusted lightly with sugar, and a huge box of Honey-Nut Cheerios. A pitcher of icy cold milk, and two bowls and spoons filled the rest of the tray. “The hotel does not have giant boxes of Cheerios in the pantry. Did you pack everything I said I liked?”

Richie colored a little. “Well, not everything. I couldn’t pack the cheese for macaroni and cheese, and we can get mint-chocolate-chip ice cream here pretty easily. I just wanted to try to make travel a little easier on you, that’s all.”

She smiled at Richie and got up, circling the table. She knelt in front of him and hugged him close, taking in his scent, and reveling in the warm strength of his arms around her. “Thank you,” she said against his warm, smooth chest.

Richie stiffened at the feel of her breath on his skin, and smiled down at the woman in his arms. “Hey, another tattoo?” he said, tracing the dragonfly on her shoulder. “This is beautiful.”

Jennifer chuckled. “My brother designed it for me. He and I went together for his 35th to get ink done – a little sibling bonding, if you will. Mom just about had a shit fit – she doesn’t believe nice girls should have tattoos. Thank God she doesn’t see my ass anymore.”

Richie laughed, “Oh really?” he said, making Jennifer blush.

“Never mind that,” she croaked.

He tipped her face up to his, seeing happiness there; a sentiment he knew was reflected back at her. He leaned down to kiss her briefly before pulling her up to sit her on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Jennifer wrapped an arm around his waist, and rested her other hand on his shoulder. She happily tucked her head under Richie’s chin and rested her cheek on a generous slice of warm, smooth, tanned, HARD chest. She listened to the steady beat of his heart, and traced circles on his arm with a light fingertip. They sat like that for so long, they had to order another pitcher of milk from room service; the one Richie had brought had grown too warm to drink.

After breakfast, Jennifer felt good enough to venture out. Richie wanted to go with her, so he exchanged his burgundy shirt for a steel-gray t. He donned her cowboy hat and his amber-lensed sunglasses, and they had set out on a walking tour of the area. They strolled amiably hand-in-hand around the streets, poking into shops and playing tourist. Quite a few people recognized Richie, but for the most part they left him alone. The few that approached slid hooded looks at Jennifer, and asked Richie for a picture or an autograph. The others just pointed and stared. A few people took pictures of them together. “Smile, darlin’,” Richie said in her ear at one point. “You’re on candid camera.” He nodded at some of the picture-takers.

“Are you okay with that?” Jennifer asked. She was paranoid that the whole world would know that they ostensibly met online, and that it would hurt his reputation. She was worried, too, that she wouldn’t be able to go back to the boards if this got out. If Gail saw the pictures she would know the “mystery woman” was her, and she was meeting Willow next month, and then she would know... Samantha and T already knew; it was just getting too complicated, and she should just bail, but she loved those girls already, and didn’t want to have to leave the forum.

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” he said, smiling at her. “Are YOU okay with that?” She just nodded, keeping her concerns to herself. After all, if he didn’t care, who was she to worry?

After a few hours of walking around Jennifer started to feel fatigued, and by the time they got back to the hotel, she thought she was going to fall asleep on the spot. Richie ended up half-carrying, half-dragging her down the hall to her room.

This time, when he sat her on the bed and took off her shoes and socks, she flopped backwards on the bed and groaned, “Can you give me a minute? I need to get out of these jeans.”

Richie smiled. “Okay, but you know that I’d be willing to help you out, darlin’, right?”

“I’m sure you would be willing to suffer that horrible fate for me, Rich,” Jennifer said chuckling, “but I think I can manage.”

Richie left but hovered outside her door; not looking in, but damn near. He heard the pants hit the floor, and his groin tightened. He called out, “You covered?”

“Just,” she answered, and Richie went back into her room. She looked so pathetic and pitiful, he wanted to laugh. He didn’t think she’d appreciate that, though.

“Did you put in for your wake-up calls for tea and supper?” He picked her jeans up off the floor and put them on the foot of the bed.

“Shit, no,” Jennifer groaned, and started to sit up.

Richie gently pushed her back down. “I’ll take care of it sweetheart. You just rest.”

Jennifer yawned huge and smiled. “Thanks. Again.” She paused for a moment, just looking at him. “You know, you’d better watch out,” she said. “A girl could get used to this kind attention you’re showing me. If you’re not careful, I could get mighty attached to you.”

“Would that be so bad?” he asked, brushing the hair back from her face, and kissing her lips gently.

Jennifer smiled sweetly. “No, Rich it wouldn’t be bad at all.” She closed her eyes, and Richie watched as she drifted off to sleep. He couldn’t keep the goofy grin off his face. After watching her for a few minutes, he decided that this time he wasn’t going to leave her while she napped. He toed off his boots and sat up on the other side of the bed. When his weight settled, Jennifer rolled over so he could see her face. He saw she had a faint smile on her face, and hoped she was thinking of him. He called down to the front desk, asking softly for wakeup calls at tea time and supper, then scooted down and over so he was laying next to her, an arm slung around her waist. He watched her sleep for a while, and felt his eyelids grow heavy. Before he knew it, he drifted off, too.

The ringing phone woke Jennifer from a sound sleep. She went to reach across the bed for it, and encountered warm, hard man. She snatched her hand back and opened her eyes in surprise, and nearly died when Richie’s sleep-rumbly voice answered her phone. He hung up, saying to her, “That was your wake up call, darlin’. Sorry, I didn’t want to go, and I guess I was tired” he chuckled, a sleep tinge still in his voice. Jennifer watched, fascinated, while he scratched at his chest and scrubbed at his face. “Are you upset with me, dalrin’?”

“No, not at all,” Jennifer said, stretching. “Just surprised that’s all. I wasn’t expecting to see you there.” Richie watched as Jennifer’s back arched in a catlike stretch, and could have sworn that she purred. That was a sound he wouldn’t mind being responsible for having her make.

Jennifer smiled at the expression on his face. Apparently, he didn’t quite know what to make of their current proximity, either. “Um, what should we have for tea?” she said finally, and reluctantly climbed out of bed, her heart pounding. Seeing him in her bed made her blood race, and she would have been quite happy to stay there with him all afternoon. Richie gasped as the covers slid from her body, and Jennifer froze, then with an “oh shit”, dropped to the floor. She had completely forgotten that she had gone to sleep in her t-shirt and thong, and she had just nonchalantly rolled out of bed, and showed Richie her ass. “God, I’m sorry,” she said. “I kinda forgot what I was wearing. Or not wearing, I guess.”

“You’ll hear no complaints from me,” Richie said, chuckling, “but now I have two questions for you. When exactly did you get a smiley-face tattooed on your ass; and are there any MORE tattoos on that body of yours?”

Jennifer groaned and flushed redder, peering over the edge of the bed at Richie. He was smiling at her, and his eyes were twinkling. “I got it when I was too stupid to know any better,” she answered. “But I kept it as a reminder not to make hasty choices, and,” she laughed, “not to make body-altering decisions when you’re drunk. And, um, yeah, there’s two more.”

“Good plan on the body-altering decisions,” he laughed, wondering where the other tattoos might be. “Uh, you don’t have to sit there on the floor, sweetheart. I’ve already seen your ass, and am not likely to forget it, but if you want, I’ll close my eyes while you pull your jeans on.” His eyes narrowed evilly. “Or, I could take my jeans off, and we’ll be even.”

Jennifer colored. “Y-y-your jeans? But are you wearing…” she couldn’t finish the statement, she was blushing so much, and a bit horrified that the question just popped out of her mouth.

“Nope,” Richie said smugly, “so you’d see my ass, too.” Jennifer squeaked, which made him laugh a full-throated belly laugh that went straight to her core.

“You’re teasing me!” she accused. “Here I am, sick with jet lag, huddled on the floor bare-assed, and you’re teasing me.” She pouted prettily, and snagged her jeans from the end of the bed. She pushed her legs into them and laid down to pull them up over her ass, then stood and turned to face Richie, who was watching her with interest. She hitched her t-shirt hem up a little to button her jeans. “There. Now we’re even.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

Richie laughed. “Chicken. Did I see a tat on your belly?” he asked.

Jennifer paled. “Nope,” she said quickly and turned away.

Hell yeah I did, Richie thought to himself, and grinned. “Wait a minute,” he called, getting off the bed and following her. “What was that all about?”

“All of what?” she asked, unconvincingly, sitting at the table and feigning interest in the room service menu.

“Cut it out, Jen,” he said. “C’mon, you’ve seen all of mine…”

Jennifer laughed. “I can’t argue with that, but I’m not comfortable showing it to you just yet.” She shook her head. “Nope, can’t do it. You’re just going to have to wait.”

“You showed me your ass!” Richie said, incredulous. "That's okay, but your ink isn't? That's messed up."

“I showed you by accident,” Jennifer answered, giggling.

“So you mean to tell me that your tattoo is more embarrassing than a big ol’ yellow smiley face on your ass? This I’ve GOT go to see.” Richie sat across from her, dropped his chin on his hand, and pouted. “Will you show me now?” he asked.

“No,” she said, flipping through the menu.

“Feel comfortable now?” he asked thirty seconds later.

“NO!” Jennifer laughed.

“You know, I’m just going to keep bugging you until you show me. I am a bit of an asshole sometimes – just ask Jon.”

Jennifer sighed and stood, hands on her shirt hem. “I’ll show you on two conditions. First, nobody else finds out about it. I mean it.” Happy to have gotten his way, Richie came over to stand next to Jennifer. His fingers were itching to raise the hem of her shirt himself, but he’d let her do it.

“Okay,” Richie agreed, wondering just what in the hell it could be. “What’s the other?”

“No laughing.”

“Darlin’, I wouldn’t laugh at you. Hell, if I didn’t laugh outright at your smiling ass, I’m not going to laugh at --” the air left his lungs as Jennifer raised the hem of her t-shirt. He sat hard on the chair she had vacated, and grabbed for her hips, bringing her closer to him. “It’s beautiful,” he said, touching the double-necked guitar reverently. He smiled at the little exquisitely detailed silver-studded Stetson hanging off one of the necks, and the elaborate “RS” entwined on the body. “This design is familiar to me,” he said, frowning. “I’ve read about it somewhere; where?”

“Aw shit, really?” Jennifer tried to step back, but Richie wasn’t letting go. She wanted to sink through the floor as it is, now she had to explain where he’d “seen” it before. In a few halting sentences, she told him about how one of her fan fic characters from the “Rental” story, had the same one in pretty much the same place.

“So Julianna is you?”

Sweet hell, he remembered the name of the character! “All the female leads in the stories about you are me. Can we please, please drop it now?” She was close to tears, and he still wouldn’t let her go. She wanted nothing more than to go lock herself in the bathroom and not come out until it was time to fly home.

“Aw, don’t cry, Jennifer,” Richie said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I do think it’s beautiful – the work and the sentiment. I won’t tell anyone about it if you don’t want me to.”

Jennifer sniffled delicately. “Not now. Maybe later, if there is a later, but not just now.”

Richie let the “if there is a later” comment pass, not wanting to distress her more than she already was. Under the calm exterior she’d been showing, he could tell she was still a bit overwhelmed, and if he told her now that he was for damned sure going to make sure they had a whole lot of “later” together, she’d probably bolt. He decided on a subject change,

“So, after we eat, I’m going to the airport to meet up with the guys. You want to come with me? Meet my friends?”

“What, now?” She shook her head. “No. NO way. I’m not ready for that. Besides,” she said, “they’re gonna want to grill you about me, and I’d just as soon not be there for that.”

He didn’t push, and after they ate, he went to meet the guys on his own; but not before stealing a deep, lingering kiss at her door. “To hold me over until tomorrow,” he said then left.

Jennifer closed the door behind him, leaned against it, and slumped bonelessly to the floor. “Holy shit,” she said to the empty room, and touched her lips. They felt a little swollen, and when she licked them, she could taste him on her. “I’m in trouble.”