Goodbye, My Lover...

Thursday, Jennifer was awake early. Richie had to be at the airport at noon, and he was still sleeping. She watched him sleep, his strong, tanned chest rising and falling with each breath he took. She marveled how he looked playful and fun even when unconscious. She laughed quietly, recalling his surprise last night when after the first fifteen minutes or so, nobody asked any questions about the band or the tour or the other guys. Her friends were just enjoying Jennifer’s boyfriend. It didn’t really matter to them that he was famous. To them, after the initial shock wore off, he was just a dad with a kid with stories somewhat like theirs about potty training, doctor appointments and school days. They chatted for hours about stupid things, the way people just getting to know each other do, and Richie commented on the way home that he felt instantly accepted as one of them.

“You are,” Jennifer had said, shouting to be heard over the road noise as they cruised down the highway. “All the boyfriends and husbands are.” She laughed. “Though you may be the first one to be invited back,” she winked. “They think you’re cute.”

Richie laughed. “Well, I am cute,” he had said.

“You certainly are,” she said softly now, watching him. His hair was all mussed up, there was a little toothpaste drool on his chin, and even in sleep, he had a slight smile on his face.

Jennifer quietly climbed out of bed and checked in on the boards to see what was what. She read a PM she received from T, telling her that things were going well with her and Jon. That was good. She deserved to have someone want her for HER, not for any other reason. T asked Jennifer if she thought this whole situation was surreal, and if she had any freak out moments, like when the guys’ songs came on the radio or something.

Jennifer had to think about that one. Hearing the band’s songs didn’t bother her, but she got all sort of squishy when she heard Richie’s stuff now. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy listening to his music anymore, but now she heard it with a different perspective, and well, ‘different’ was just about the right feeling. She couldn’t listen to it in quite the same way. She knew most of the songs (at least on Stranger) were written for or inspired by Heather, and she didn’t want to spend a whole lot of time thinking about Richie’s ex.

She posted a couple replies to people, then saw Richie starting to stir. His made that deep, hitching inhale that meant he was either waking up or ready to sneeze. “Darlin’, where are you?” he rumbled.

Jennifer chuckled. “You haven’t even opened your eyes,” she said, as she crossed the room to the bed. “How did you know I wasn’t in bed?”

Richie smiled, and opened his eyes. They were still slumberous, and hooded, and Jennifer thought that this was the way she would always remember him. “I can tell,” he said. “The bed isn’t as warm.”

“You’re making that up,” Jennifer said, but climbed into bed and snuggled up against Richie’s side. “But that’s okay. I choose to believe you.”

“What time is it?”

“A little after eight. You didn’t have too much more time before I was going to wake you up.”

Richie smiled. “And just how were you going to do that?” He turned to her, and pulled her over on top of him. She could feel his morning erection pressing into her belly.

Jennifer kissed his lips, and said, “Coffee.”

Richie laughed. “You witch,” he said. He rolled them so he was half on top of her, and kissed her tenderly. He played his hands over her shoulders and breasts, teasing her nipples until they stood proudly at attention. Then he tasted them, sucking them deep into his mouth until Jennifer was writhing on the bed. She grabbed onto his dick and stroked, amazed at how hard and big he was. He reached for another condom and sheathed himself. “We’re gonna have to buy stock,” he joked.

Jennifer laughed out loud. “I already have some,” she answered. “Check my portfolio.”

“Well then,” Richie said, after his belly laughs subsided. “Let’s make mama some money!” He drove into her with one powerful thrust, and Jennifer arched from the bed with his name a scream in her throat. He made her scream several more times before he allowed himself to empty into her, and he collapsed in a sweaty heap on top of her. “Sorry,” he groaned, and made to move off of her, but Jennifer held fast.

“No,” she said. “Stay. I like the way you feel on top of me.” She was glad the room was still semi-dark, couldn’t see her blushing. Soon, though, it was time to roll out of bed.

After they had cleaned up and had something to eat, Richie packed his duffel. “I guess we should go, then,” he said.

Jennifer had a tear in her eye. “I guess so.” They went out to the garage. “Which one you wanna take?”

Richie answered right away, looking like a little kid staring at the Macy’s window at Christmastime, “I want to ride behind you on the bike.” He moved to nibble on her neck. “I want to wrap myself around you and hold for the ride.”

Jennifer swallowed. “Well then, who am I to refuse? Bike it is.” They stowed his gear in the saddle bags, donned helmets and jackets, and took off.

Jennifer aimed her Harley up the Expressway, very conscious of the man wrapped around her. He had his arms locked around her waist, and his crotch pressed up against her ass. She had warned him to keep hands to himself unless he wanted to be splattered all over the highway. He had laughed at her, but so far had heeded her warning. Jennifer signaled left to take the northbound fork towards Boston, and put on an extra burst of speed. She wasn’t driving in an unsafe manner, she just loved driving the bike way too much to keep it at a sedate 65 per.

Traffic wasn’t too bad. Most people were heading out of the city, toward the Cape and the Islands (Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard), so she made it to the airport with time to spare. She parked in short-term parking and went inside with Richie. This experience was significantly different than hers. He was whisked to his own check-in clerk, who looked at him like she wanted to dive over the counter and grab him. Jennifer chuckled when Richie pulled her in close to him and kissed her temple while he waited for his boarding pass.

By 1pm, Richie was leading Jennifer to an ultra private lounge in a part of the airport she had never been in before. It was plush and luxurious, and Jennifer whistled. “Not bad, Sambora,” she said laughing. She accepted a glass of white wine, and they chatted quietly until a flight attendant came to bring Richie through security and onto the plane. He stood and gathered Jennifer into his arms. “It’s only a few days,” he said.

“I know,” Jennifer answered. “Have fun with your daughter, and call when you can.”

“I will,” Richie said, still amazed that she wasn’t all clingy, though he was going to call her every day, no matter what.

By 1:30, Richie was on his way onto the plane, and Jennifer was on her way back to ransom her bike from the pay lot.

By 2pm Richie was on his way home, looking forward to coming back to Boston, and Jennifer was in the Public Gardens, walking around the duck ponds, and missing him.