Well I went and did it again. I got involved in yet another interactive fan fiction story. This time, my character was paired with Richie (much more to my liking). That story wrapped in early November 2008, and I had been asked to assemble the "story posts", that is, the posts that tell Richie and Jen's story, in one place for people to read.

So I'm doing it.

I'm having to add some filler as I go, as there were lengthy pauses between the verbose posts I made, but I'm trying to keep the flow of the story going.

The Richie/Jen story is only half of the fan fic project. The other half was a Jon/T story. That is not explored here at all. In fact, very little mention is made. Just enough so it isn't a surprise when T shows up at various points.

If anything is confusing, please let me know. I've been living this character for the better part of the last eight months, and her memories are mine. I forget, sometimes, that you all can't see into my head.

I hope you enjoy the story. It starts here.

~ Hath

Agreeing to meet Ava

Sunday, August 23, 2009
Jen spent the next week making up for lost time at work. She was really going to have to reconsider all the vacation time she was taking; it was quickly running out. All week, she and Richie had been talking about Ava. Richie really wanted Jen and Ava to meet; the woman was balking. She was so afraid of messing something up with the most important person in Richie’s life.

One night, she screwed up her courage and asked Jon for his opinion. She wanted to know how Ava handled meeting the other women in Richie’s life, and was shocked to find that other than Denise, who was somewhat of a family friend, Richie hadn’t brought any of the others home. That made her feel a little better until she really sat and thought about it. Then she got extremely nervous.

She chalked her sleeplessness up to those nerves. Since arriving back home Monday afternoon, she hadn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours at a time. Not wanting to take more narcotics, having hated the fuzzy feeling the pain meds had left in her head, she called her doctor who recommended a mild dose of Melatonin before bedtime. It took a few days for it to kick into her system, but she was finally getting some sleep. Maybe, she thought, she’d sleep better if she hashed this out with Richie once and for all.

Sunday night, Richie was just settling in to watch Ghost Rider for the umpteenth time with Ava, when Phantom poured from his phone. Share each day with me, each night, each morning / Say you love me, You know I do / Love me, that's all I ask of you...

“Hey there Jennifer,” Richie said warmly, frowning when he checked his watch. “Everything alright? I thought you had taken your meds already.” Richie was concerned about Jennifer’s trouble sleeping, but after trying to step in and offer advice about her knee and getting firmly but gently rebuked (she saw it as giving orders), he thought he’d stay out of this one.

“I did,” Jennifer said. “I’m sleepy, but I can’t go to sleep without telling you something first.”

Her voice sounded serious and Richie was instantly on edge. Ava noticed the change in her father, and switched attention from the movie to his face.

“Is everything alright?” Richie asked her. “You sound like something’s wrong.”

“Something is wrong, and I want to apologize for it.” That was all Jennifer said. Richie’s mind what spinning. What the hell was she talking about?

“Jen, darlin’, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re making me extremely nervous.” He saw his daughter watching him avidly, and grinned at her, motioning her to get back to her movie.

Ava, wanting to hear what was going on and being no dummy, turned her eyes back to the screen, but kept her attention on her father. That way he wouldn’t leave the room to finish the call. She was upset that her father hadn’t brought his girlfriend to meet her. He talked about Jennifer and her family, and they sounded cool and she really wanted to meet them. She was disappointed when she couldn’t go to the ArenaBowl with them, and thought for sure Jennifer would have come home with him after, but she didn’t. Then her father told her about the injury to her leg, and Ava sort of understood why the woman wouldn’t want to come out to LA where she didn’t know how to get around, but Ava thought it was crazy that they weren’t going to Boston to stay with her.

Ava hadn’t seen her father this happy for a while, and was smart enough to know that this Jennifer person was most likely the reason he was almost back to his old fun daddy self. Ava really REALLY wanted to meet this woman. Why didn’t this woman want to meet her?

Now her father was making that face again. That face that said that something was wrong, but he didn’t want anyone to know. Ava laughed to herself. Yeah, like it didn’t take all of a week for her to figure out that particular face. She listened intently, wishing she could turn down the volume on the movie, but knowing she couldn’t.

“Jen?” Richie said into the phone again.

“Rich, I’m sorry,” Jennifer began. “I’m sorry for making you think that I didn’t want to meet your daughter. I do. I really do want to be part of your whole life.”

Ava watched as whatever Jennifer was saying made him smile. Good, she thought.

“I want that too, baby, you know I do,” Richie slanted a look at Ava, who had a half-smile on her face, and he knew it wasn’t over Nicholas Cage, who was presently beating the shit out of a group of bikers. “What changed your mind?”

“I talked to Jon,” Jennifer said after a moment’s hesitation. “Please don’t be mad. At either of us. He told me that you haven’t brought any of your other girlfriends home to meet your family since Denise. Is that true?”

Richie looked at Ava again, and stood up from the couch and circled to the back of the room. “Jennifer, I’m not proud of the way I handled my life after Heather and I split. But the one thing I tried to do was shield Ava from most of my mistakes.” He laughed humorlessly. “Even in the back of my head, I must have known that those women were mistakes if I didn’t want my baby girl around them. You are not a mistake.”

“I know,” Jennifer said. “I know that for you to even want to bring me into your daughter’s life that you mean for this to work, and I just got scared at what that meant, and even more scared at the thought of screwing something up with Ava. I didn’t mean to push you away, and I’m so damned sorry, you can’t even imagine.” She was close to tears.

“Jen, honey, it’s alright. I’m just glad you had a change of heart.” He looked over at Ava, who was making absolutely no pretense at watching the movie anymore. “When can we come out to Boston?” he said a little loudly so Ava would hear him. Ava smiled widely.

Jennifer laughed. “Tomorrow if you can manage it. Come whenever you can. I miss you something fierce, and I can’t wait to meet your daughter.”

“Do you want to talk to her?” Richie asked. Ava ran nodded enthusiastically, and Richie laughed. “Apparently she wants to talk to you.”

“Sure,” Jennifer said, “but not too long, I’m fading fast. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Richie said. “Here’s Ava, hang on.” Richie covered the mouthpiece. “Not too long, baby girl,” he said. “It’s after 11:30 her time and she has work in the morning.”

“Okay, daddy, just give me the phone,” Ava said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Richie laughed and handed her the phone.

“Hello?” Ava squeaked. “It’s SO nice to finally talk to you!” Richie chuckled as Ava took the phone and began circling the room.

“Of course we can come tomorrow!” Ava said. “I don’t have to be at school for four whole weeks.”

“Ava,” Richie warned. “We are not staying all month. You’re spending some time with your mother and Jack, remember?”

Ava flapped a hand at him, in a gesture that was pure Heather, making him choke back a laugh. “Do you have a pool? Oh! Or a dog?”

Richie heard Ava laughing and talking animatedly and knew that she and Jennifer were bonding already. A weight lifted off his chest he didn’t realize was there. One down, one to go. He wondered how Jennifer would feel if they stopped to pick up his mother on the way?

Arena Bowl

Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Sunday morning, Tiffany stretched luxuriously in Jon's arms. His deep even breaths told her that he was still asleep, and the clock on the nightstand told her that they needed to be awake. They were supposed to be at the Commissioner's Brunch in a little over an hour. Her head was killing her; she really shouldn't have drank quite so much, but she knew better than to let it show or he'd never let her live it down.

"Jon, baby," she said softly, "we need to get up."

Jon had been trying to ignore the movement of the warm body snuggled close to him and continue sleeping, even though her big stretch had caused her delectable ass to rub erotically against his ever present morning hard on. He growled in her ear, "I'm already 'up'."

Tiffany groaned and rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, trust me, I noticed, but we've got places to go, food to eat, people for you to impress, and a football game to win."

Laughing, Jon slapped her bare ass. "Race ya to the shower," he told her as he rolled to the side of the bed.
Tiffany winced, not just at the smack itself, but also the loud sound it made. Somehow, she would make it through this. Usually, a hot shower helped; she crossed her fingers and crawled out of bed.


Jennifer groaned when the alarm went off. "Damn, baby, what the hell time is it?"

Richie chuckled and kissed her shoulder. "Darlin', it's a little after nine." He smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "Are you alright?"

"Ugh, yeah," she groaned, sitting gently and rubbing her forehead. "How much did I drink last night?"

"A lot," Richie said, rubbing her back. "Though you handled it well."

"Why didn't you shut me off?"

Richie laughed. "Babe, you get really horny when you get drunk. I wasn't missing out on that. Don't you remember last night?"

Jennifer remembered barely making it back to their suite after the parade wrapped. They had ordered room service, and by the time the cart had arrived, she was stripped to the skin and wrapped in a fluffy hotel robe. Jennifer had taken a cube of ice from the champagne bucket, and trailed it down between her breasts. Richie's mouth went dry as he crossed to her.

He took the ice from her and she unbelted and dropped her robe. He trailed the ice slowly around her breast, circling closer and closer to her nipple until he finally touched it, sending shocks all the way through her body. He held the ice against her nipple where it melted quickly, sending a little rivulet of cold down over her breast and ribs. He did the same to her other breast, all the while watching her reactions. Jennifer gripped his shoulders to keep from falling at his feet, and he could see her pupils dilating as she got more and more turned on. She pulled him fully to her, fitting his growing erection to the apex of her naked thighs. She slowly rubbed against him, as much as her leg would allow, and sucked and licked at his neck.

Riche scooped her up and brought her to the bed. He stripped off his clothes and disappeared into the other room for just a moment, returning with the champagne bucket. He bent over her and took her nipples alternately into his mouth, sucking gently, rubbing his tongue over their tips. Jennifer tilted her hips, begging him to caress her. He chuckled and pulled an ice cube from the bucket and slid it down her chest and dipped it into her navel. Jennifer's breath hitched and he continued the cube's downward trek toward the hottest part of her body. He spread her with his fingertips and slid the cube into her.

The cold against her overheated skin made her gasp loudly, and Riche chuckled. He scooted down her body, and licked at the water that was dripping from her. He alternated between sucking at her clit, and licking at the drippings from the melting ice. Finally, he pressed his mouth to her core, sucking at her until the sliver of ice was pulled from her and he was crunching it between his teeth…

Her self-satisfied smile showed Richie that she remembered every delicious second of last night. He saw her smile turn to a grimace as she realized it was time to get cleaned up and dressed for the day. They needed to meet Jon and T for brunch. "I need a shower," she groaned.

Richie sniffed her dramatically. "You sure do, sweetie," he said, laughing. "You smell like you spent the night in a daiquiri pitcher."

"Fuck you, Rich," Jennifer groused.

"Okay, baby," Richie agreed, and pushed her back on the bed.

"RICH!" she squealed, then whimpered when he rolled over and slid into her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers while he rolled his hips in a slow dance he knew would drive her wild. He captured her screams as she came, and the ripple of her muscles around him triggered his own release.

* * * * *

The Commissioner's Brunch was being held at the Foundry, a restaurant situated near the Mississippi Riverfront in the city's historic and colorful Warehouse District. It occupied the ground floor of a warehouse dating from the 19th century. Wooden columns, two feet thick, rose more than 14 feet from the concrete floor to the wooden ceiling beams. Exposed brick, bearing the patina of many decades, form much of the corner building's walls, one of them partly covered by a mural depicting a quaint French Quarter courtyard scene.

In one corner, a bar reigned; a gleaming expanse of mahogany that Jon longed to run his hand across. He had an appreciation for the finer things in life, and that bar was definitely fine. There was a jazz quintet set up in the middle of the far wall, playing soft standards and setting a mood of celebration and anticipation, and Jon couldn't wait for this damned brunch to be done so he could get to the arena.

The foursome had arrived at 11:00, late enough to miss the initial crush of people, but on time enough to meet the commissioner, and pile their plates high with all sorts of delectable goodies. Richie looked at Jennifer's sparsely piled plate, and added extra crawdads and beignets to her meager pile of food. "I don't want those," she said, looking at them and turning a little green.

"Yeah," Richie answered, "well I do, and my plate's full." He laughed at Jennifer's hangover. She and T had really tied one on last night. "What? I love New Orleans cuisine, and I'm not the one who drank nearly a half gallon of DOA daiquiris last night." He chuckled ruefully. "The morning after is the one thing I don't miss."

"Rich, if you don't get those foul, fishy-smelling things off my plate, I am so going to throw up all over your gorgeous chest and shiny boots." She gagged once, and leveled a stare at him. "Now."

Richie smiled, and quickly took the seafood off Jennifer's plate and put it on his own.

"Jesus, Richie," T said, as he sat across from her. "You really gonna eat all that?"

"Yep," he said smugly.

"Good thing Jennifer helps you work it off," Jon said as the woman in question gingerly sat down, causing Jennifer to blush, and T to smack his shoulder.

While Jon, Richie, and their girls were feasting on local cuisine, the Sonesta crew was getting ready for the game. Decked out in Soul Blue, to a woman, they were ready for their team to declaw the Sabercats.

When they met up in the lobby, their excitement grew. This was going to be one hell of a game. They piled into a cab, and headed across town to the New Orleans Arena. After having their bags checked and their pat-downs, they found their seats. Sam and Cheryl were several rows behind Gail and Steph, and they all had a good view of the owners' boxes. "There's Jen," Cheryl said, nudging Sam and pointing at the box. She texted Steph to have her look up, then texted Jennifer. "BOO!" she sent.

Jennifer had just sat down when her bag buzzed. She drew out her Blackberry and chuckled. "What's so funny?" Richie asked. Jennifer showed him the message. "Where are they?" he asked.

Jennifer had a general idea of where the girls were and scanned the stands. She still couldn't find them so she texted back "Where R U?"

Cheryl laughed and called Jennifer's cell. "I'm standing and waving," she said, giggling. "Can you see me?"

Jennifer burst out in hysterical laughter. "You and 10,000 other people, you nut," she said. "I'm looking; where are you?"

Cheryl turned toward the booth. "We're on the Soul side, close to midfield, dozen or so rows back. We're all in Soul Blue, and I have my pom-poms."

"You tease," Jennifer said, getting Richie's attention. She smiled at him. "Cheryl has pom-poms, and I have a cheerleader fetish, babe," she said, winking.

"Oh! I see you! Can you see us?"

Richie chuckled. "I have one of those too," he said, standing to nuzzle her neck.

"Yeah," Cheryl said, "I see Richie attacking you, lucky bitch."

"Rich," Jennifer said, "everyone can see us."

"So what?" Richie said. "Let 'em look and be jealous."

"Have some ego, why don't you?" Jennifer asked, rolling her eyes.

Richie laughed softly. "I mean the guys," he said. "They'll all be jealous of me."

"I'll call ya back," Jennifer said distractedly into the phone, and hung up. She wrapped her arms around Richie's neck and kissed him for all she was worth. "I love you," she said.

"Jesus, you two," Jon said, coming into the box with T in tow. "Give it a rest already, wouldya?"

"Sorry bro," Richie said. "No can do. I can't get enough of her."

"Well," Jon said, "at least cool it for now." He pulled T to his side, and stepped away from the windows. Kissing her soundly, he asked her, "You ready for the game, baby?"

"Oh, absolutely," T answered.

Throughout the game, Jon had continually been shaking the little bag that Tiff had gotten for him from a voodoo priestess in the French Quarter. Tiff had called it a good ju-ju bag. The little bag had been passed back and forth, 'round and 'round, but when the Soul took the lead in the second quarter, Richie handed it to him over his shoulder. Laughing, Jon shook it toward the players on the field.

Shortly after that, Jon began to notice just how often the camera was on him. So far, his body guard, Obie, Matt and Richie had done a good job of helping him shield Tiff from the cameras. Jon had told them before the game that she really didn't want the media attention that would come with being seen with him, just yet. His friends and family had immediately liked her and had stepped up to help Jon protect her from the media. There was a brief moment where Jon was sure that they'd been close to putting her on national television. That's when he left the box and moved to sit in a seat high in the rafters; he moved a few times trying to make the cameras hunt him. It gave his family, friends and Tiff a break. He was used to the attention, even though he'd constantly asked to be left alone during the games.

By half-time, the Soul had a healthy lead. By the end of the third quarter, it was starting to look real good. Jon moved back to his box. He wanted to be with Tiff, his friends and family, when his team won. With less than two minutes left in the game John Fry came over to congratulate him. He really wanted to spike a football and yell, "In your face, Fry!", but he did manage to be gracious and a good sport. Even though he was trying to pay attention to the other man, Jon caught sight of Rich and Jennifer over Fry's left shoulder.

The couple stood laughing and congratulating with Obie and Matt. Rich had his arm around Jennifer's shoulders like he didn't want her to get too far from him. Jennifer's arm was around Rich's waist. Jon noticed that her hand disappeared under the guitarist's jacket. He just grinned, shook his head, and gave himself a mental pat on the back. As always, he'd been right about her.

When Fry left, he felt small hands encircle his waist from behind and knew it was her long before he felt the full length of her body press tightly against his back. He could feel her warm breath even through his jacket as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

"Congratulations, baby," she said softly. Her voice had the same combination of fire and smoothness as good aged bourbon.

"Thank you, baby," he answered. "Ready to go to Harrah's?"

"Do I have to?"

"No," he answered, but she could hear the sadness in his voice.

"I was kidding Jon. Of course, I'd support you and go. I'm just not looking forward to the media shit."

Jon turned in her arms and grinned down at her. "Repeat after me. No comment."

"What? Are you kidding me? What if they ask my name?"

"Repeat after me," he said more forcefully, "No comment."

"No comment," she said, shrugging.

He shook his head and chided, "Put more feeling into it. Like this...No comment," he let his voice rise with authority on the last word.

"No comment," she repeated dutifully.

"There ya go," he said with enthusiasm. "Now, I need to get to the field. Wanna meet me at the limo?" He really didn't want her in the crush on the field.

"Sounds good," she told him, standing up on her toes to kiss him quickly.

Neither of them realized that Jennifer and Richie had walked up behind Jon, until the other woman laughed. "Sounds good to me too. I really have no desire to fight that crowd."

With his hands on her hips, Richie pulled her flush with his front. "I'd rather you not go down there and get pushed around, either. Your knee could get hurt worse."

"Kev," Jon called out, and a huge mountain of a man appeared instantly.

"No way, boss. I'm going out on the field with you. You'll have to get someone else to escort the ladies."

Smiling, Jon shook his head. "See, people really think I'm the boss 'round here," he told Tiff.

Quickly, he arranged with Matt and Obie to ride in the elevator down to field level with them and then escort Tiff and Jen to the limo. The mood in the elevator was jubilant with teasing and laughter bouncing off the walls.

At ground level, Jon pulled Tiffany close for a brief kiss. "I won't be long," he assured her, before allowing Kevin and Richie to pull him toward the field.

Tiffany waved to him as he disappeared, then she and Jen turned to follow Obie and Matt to limo. Jen was just climbing into the backseat with Tiffany when her blackberry buzzed again. It was a text message from Cheryl.

"What a game, huh? GO SOUL! Bet Jon's ecstatic. Is that other woman his G/F? She's pretty. What's she like? We're all dying with curiosity!"

Jen showed the text to Tiffany. They shared a chuckle as Jen began typing a reply. "Yep. GO SOUL. He is. Yep. Uh-huh. She's a bitch. Curiosity won't really kill ya, ya know."

After a whole lot of “no comment” at Harrah’s, and some good drinks and great food, Jon, Richie, and the girls were more than ready to leave. The car pulled up in front of the hotel. The coast looked clear, so Richie and Jen left the car first. As they approached the doors of the hotel, a photographer jumped out at them and snapped their picture. Jon and Tiff stayed in the car, and were going to have the driver go around back. Startled by the flash, Jennifer jumped, which was a mistake, and fell into Richie’s arms. The photog snapped another picture of them clinched together.

The reporter with the photographer called out to Richie, “Hey! Hey, Richie! This cutie with you have a name?”

Jennifer bristled at being called a cutie by this slug, but stayed quiet, remembering the “no comment” bit from the casino. But, she thought, she didn’t really mind if people knew who she was. Her family and friends already knew about Richie, and his about her, so there were no feelings to be hurt – there was really no harm in them knowing her name. Richie looked to her as if for permission, and she nodded giving her consent to be named. “This is Jennifer Petruzzo,” Richie said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “She’s my beautiful new girlfriend.”

“Jennifer, doll, how’d you two meet? Where are you from? What do you do? How did you get hurt? What’d you think of the game?” The reporter was firing off questions as fast as he could, and Jennifer just rolled her eyes and burst out laughing.

“Take a breath man, before you pass out,” she said with a voice made husky by all the cheering and screaming she did at the game. She looked at Richie, who winked at her. “OK,” she said, and took a deep breath, and ticked off on her fingers. “A mutual friend. Boston. Information Technology. Stupidity. Exhilarating. We done? Good. Thanks.”

Richie nodded to the doorman who let the couple in, but kept the reporters outside. “You okay?” Richie asked.

“Yeah,” Jennifer answered, “but he scared the shit out of me when he jumped out like that.” She sighed. “Listen,” she said. “At the risk of sounding conceited, how much do they care who I am?”

Richie shrugged. “Some, at least for now,” he said. “Why?”

Jennifer told him about her history in financial services, the killing she made in the stock market in the nineties, and the SEC investigation and her subsequent vindication. “It’s all out there if you Google me, even though it’s been more than ten years.” She blinked back tears. “Sorry, Rich,” she said. “If they bother, they’re gonna find out all about it.”

Richie shook his head. “Baby, if that’s the worst thing you’ve done, or haven’t done, I wouldn’t even worry about it,” he said, as they entered the elevator.

Richie kept Jennifer’s mind off the trip up to their floor by pressing her against the wall and kissing her senseless. When the doors slid open, he helped her gimp out of what she called a coffin-on-a-string and down the hall. Stopping outside the room, Richie reached into his pants for the key. “Close your eyes,” he said to Jennifer. She complied, heart pounding in anticipation.

Richie opened the door, and told Jennifer to open her eyes. She gasped. The suite had fresh purple lilacs, her very favorite flowers, in small vases around the room, the scent lingering every where she walked. There were dozens of candles around the room, varying in sizes and colors, some left unlit, while others were burning brightly. The place had a romantic air, and the fact that he went through the effort to do this made her heart sing.

Richie smiled as she looked around the room, and closed the door, setting the “Do Not Disturb” sign out first. He took Jennifer in his arms and slanted his mouth across hers; tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue for an instant before she opened to him. He moaned and danced her backwards toward the bed, being careful not to jar her. When they reached the bed, he stopped, and ran his hands roughly over the Soul jersey she was wearing.

“I meant to tell you,” he said, “I love your shirt.”

“I thought you would,” Jennifer answered. Her Soul shirt sported the number 59, and the name ‘Wingman’ on the back. She had it custom done after the Soul won the last playoff game, and had it express shipped to her so she’d have it in time for the game.

Richie pulled the shirt up and over her head, and quickly dispensed with her bra. Jennifer slid off Richie’s black jacket and tore open the bottom of his green silk shirt, sending the buttons skittering across the room. She slipped her finger into his belt and unfastened it, then unbuttoned the tight denim and lowered the zipper. She pushed at his jeans, purposefully grazing his growing erection until he groaned and shoved at his own clothes. He toed off his boots and kicked free of his pants.

He peeled her jersey skirt down and off, taking care not to jostle her leg, and groaned when he saw she had no panties on.

“When?” he asked, his breath hitching.

“When I ducked into the Ladies’ before we left the game,” Jennifer answered smiling. “I left them behind.”

When he straightened, Richie sucked at and teased her nipples until they stood at attention. He kissed his way up her chest to her neck, and playfully nipped at her neck and under her ear. He traced the lines of her face, and glided his hand down, skimming her nipples and ribs. He slowly slid his fingers further down, past her stomach and into the nest of curls at the top of her thighs.

Jennifer wanted his fingers further south, so she rolled her hips until his fingers played across her clit and the little ring there. Richie chuckled and slid his hand down far enough to plunge two fingers into her. Jennifer groaned and rolled her hips in time with Richie’s thrusts. Her hands gripped his biceps firmly, almost painfully, as the waves of her orgasm mounted.

“You alright, baby?” Richie asked.

She only nodded her voice failing her in her neediness. She wound her arms tightly around his neck. He withdrew his fingers and grinned at her, sliding a wet, gentle finger along her slit.

"Well, well, well…who's my wanton wet girl?" he teased her, his fingers dancing over her pussy and finding her clit ring again and flicking it gently. Again she shuddered, close to orgasm and he stopped. "Oh you like that? Mmmm I thought you might."

Richie led her to the bed, and urged her to lie down. He thrust his fingers forcefully all the way into her drenched pussy and went straight for the g-spot. She came on his hand with a scream, her whole body jerking with the force. He continued pumping her gently, feeling her build again. Richie wrapped an arm around Jennifer’s shoulders, holding her while she came apart.

"You like that, don't you baby?" he said still smiling as he wiggled his fingers inside her and bent over to suckle at her breast, nipping and biting gently at the hardened raised nipple. She quivered and whimpered like a kitten, and made mewling noises in the back of her throat. Her whole life, she had never felt like this with a man before. She was feeling completely wanton, and was totally enveloped by lust and passion, she orgasmed over and over again. Richie finally slid his hand from her and chuckled at her moan of disappointment. “Damn,” he said to her. He gently climbed up onto her body and, licking her open panting mouth, he slid his hard cock in where his fingers had just been and began to stroke slowly, gently, teasing her more.

She moaned loudly into his mouth, her hands molding themselves to his shoulders, his back and his ass. She ran her hands across his chest and arms, wanting to touch him everywhere at once.

Richie groaned and fucked her harder; each stroke pulling out very slowly until he had nearly slipped from her body, then slamming his full weight forward to drive into her. Over and over he drilled her body till she was nothing but jelly. Jennifer’s nails dug into his shoulders, and Richie hissed, and when she came this time, she nearly tore his cock off at the root.

He pushed through the spasms, riding her like the wild animal she had become. She hooked her good leg around his waist and pulled him in tighter, raising her hips slightly, and screaming with new release. Richie groaned and pumped faster, the friction unbearably hot, but feeling unbelievably good. The veins stood out on his neck, and sweat dripped from his brow onto Jennifer’s upturned face. He shouted her name as he empted into her, the rippling of her walls finally taking him over.

Spent, he slipped from her and rolled to her side cuddling her close. Richie looked at Jennifer, who was panting as hard as he was, and smiled. “Jesus, Jennifer, I sure am glad the Soul won,” he said.

Note that the Jon/Tiff parts were written by T

Arena Bowl Weekend: Saturday

Thursday, August 13, 2009
Pacing the baggage claim area Saturday morning, Jon hoped the baseball cap and sunglasses would keep him from being recognized. He hadn't intended to be in here this long, but Tiffany's flight was late. Shoving his fists into his pockets in frustration, he turned to walk back down the length of the baggage carousel. When he'd checked the airline’s website before he'd left the hotel, it had said that her flight was on time, but once he'd gotten here, he'd asked and been told that it was going to be a few minutes late.

He jerked his left hand out of his pocket to glare angrily at his watch. Twenty minutes late. Damn. If it was much later, they wouldn't have any time at all alone before they had to meet Richie and Jennifer at the hotel restaurant. He turned to walk back down the length of the carousel and noticed the two women on the other side. They were talking excitedly and one was motioning in his direction. Apparently, he'd been recognized. He just hoped they'd leave him alone; it would depend on whether or not they were fans.

The announcement came over the intercom that Tiffany's flight had just landed. Glancing warily at the two women every few minutes, he kept an eye on the line of people coming through from arrivals. Finally, he caught a glimpse of honey colored hair before a tall red headed man blocked his view of her.

"Tiff," he called, waving.

With wide eyes, her head jerked in his direction. She quickened her pace, getting around the tall man in front of her. Once her path was cleared, she broke into a run. Running straight for him, she dropped her carry-on right before she threw herself into his arms.

Her lips met his in a hungry kiss. Conscious of eyes on them, particularly since they were eyes that had recognized him, he pulled away from her. "God, I missed you, baby. Let's get the hell outta here."

"I need to get my bag," she told him.

Knowing she was right, Jon nodded. He jerked his head toward the two women who were now standing just a few feet from them. "We need to hurry this up a little bit."

Seeing the problem, Tiffany said softly, "Why don't you duck on out of here? I can get my bag and meet you outside."

"Nope," he shook his head. "My mom would have my head if I let you carry your bag outta here."

"Jon," she began.

"Tiff, just point out which one is yours."

Just as Tiffany saw her bag come around on the conveyor belt and was about to point it out to him, the women got brave. They hurried up to Jon. One gushing; the other just staring at him, slack-jawed.

"Mr. Bon Jovi," the only one that was apparently capable of speech cried, "could we please get an autograph and maybe a picture?"

Jon flashed a pained expression at Tiffany, before he turned toward the two women with a big pasted on smile. "Of course."

Tiffany chuckled as she walked away toward her bag. She'd let him play the adored rock star while she got her bag. They were to the picture taking stage when Tiffany got back to them. The women were polite enough not to ask Jon who she was, and Tiffany was glad that they didn't.

Jon finally excused himself from the women and grabbed Tiffany's bag. "C'mon, baby. Let's get the hell outta here." He took off at a brisk clip for the nearest exit, and Tiffany had to almost run to keep up.

When they cleared the exit, hot, humid air hit Tiffany hard in the face. Jon had barely reached the curb when a black sedan pulled up in front of him, and the trunk popped open. Her bag was in the trunk, and Jon was opening the back door for her before she could even blink.

Once they were behind the tinted glass of the windows, Jon pulled her into his lap. With one arm supporting her back and those fingers in her hair, he cupped her cheek with his free hand. Tiffany closed her eyes as his lips descended towards hers.

"God, Tiff. I need you," he murmured huskily in her ear.

"What time are we meeting Rich and Jen?"

"In a few minutes," Jon growled. "Your flight being late gives us no time."

"We'll make up for it later."

"We better," he said, grinning.

When they got to the hotel, Jon tipped a bellhop to take her bags up to his room, then led her to the restaurant. Richie and Jennifer were already there waiting on them. Richie stood just as they reached the table. Jon began the introductions with a grin at his friend.

After the introductions, the two couples settled down for a light lunch and some get-acquainted talk. Jon and Richie were surprised at how quickly T and Jennifer had settled into normal conversation, and were just staring at them.

“What?” T asked them, then turned to Jennifer with a big, fake smile.

“No, no spinach in there,” Jen said, laughing, then checked to make sure her buttons were all done up.

“No inappropriate cleavage showing, Hath,” T answered, giggling. “I mean Jennifer.”

They turned to the guys. “What’s the problem?” they said at the same time.

Jon burst out laughing. “You two have just met, right?”

T rolled her eyes. “In person, yes. But you forget, we’ve phoned, emailed, IM’d, text messaged. . .” she trailed off, and Jennifer picked right up.

“So, you could say we know each other pretty well already.” She slid her friend a glance. “Though I still don’t know what the ‘T’ stands for.”

“Nice try, Jen,” T said, sticking her tongue out at the other woman.

They all shared a laugh, and tucked into their lunches. They turned the conversation to the parade later and the game tomorrow. Inevitably, the talk turned to what-ifs. Jennifer brought it up first, asking what if the Soul don’t win. Jon gave her a look that was pure Jon-the-actor. The shock at the thought that his team wouldn’t win was etched into every feature, and made Richie laugh.

“Darlin’,” Richie said to Jennifer, “we don’t even joke about that,” he said. “It’s bad ju-ju.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Ju-ju?”

Jon sniffed. “Well, we ARE in New Orleans,” he said.

The foursome hurried through their lunch, each couple having things they wanted to do. Jennifer looked at the hunger in Jon’s and T’s faces, and knew just what it was they wanted to do. She wanted the same thing, with Richie, not Jon, but had other plans for the afternoon.

“How much time do we have until the parade?” Jennifer asked Richie once they were back in their room.

“A couple of hours, why?” He was practically rubbing his hands together, thinking of what he could to do her in two hours.

“Can you drop me at the Sonesta? I want to visit with the girls, and we’ve got a project cooking.” She smiled an evil little grin.

Richie groaned. “Do I want to know about this?”

“You won’t be disappointed, I promise.”

Richie looked at her and smiled, pulling her in close. “What are you going to do?” He nibbled on her neck until she was shivering in his arms.

“Just decorating something,” she said, stepping back to pull a jet-black lace bustier from her bag. It had a deep vee between the underwire cups, and would fasten at the small of her back. The lace was a very loose, revealing weave, and Richie’s eyes bugged out of his head.

“You are going to cover the important bits, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” she answered with a wink.

Richie wrapped his arms around Jennifer’s waist. “Only probably? Then I don’t think you should go.”

Jennifer sighed. “Alright, I guess I just have to wear it like this then,” she said, putting on a moue.

“Oh hell no,” Richie said. “Not unless you put a sweatshirt on over it. You showed enough skin last night.”

“Then..." Jennifer prompted.

Richie pressed Jennifer up against the wall and kissed her thoroughly. “I guess you can go,” he said, “unless you’re thinking there’s something or someone else you’d rather spend your time doing.”

Jennifer groaned. “Baby, you know I would like nothing more than to spend all my time doing you,” she said on a sigh. “But damn, I’m a little sore after last night, truth be told, and need my strength for later.”

Richie grinned. “Wore you out did I?” Then his face got serious. “I didn’t hurt your knee, did I?”

“No,” Jennifer said, blushing. “That part is fine. Now, please, before you melt me to the spot here, let’s go.”

Richie drove them the short distance to the Royal Sonesta, and Jennifer got out of the car. “Thanks, babe,” she said. “I’ll see you in a little while, okay?”

“Sure thing. Have fun,” Richie said.

“Hey, that’s my line,” Jennifer laughed. “But I will, thanks. Love you.”

“You too.”

Jennifer gingerly thumped across the marble lobby, and took the elevator up to the third floor. Stopping outside Sam’s suite, she could hear feminine laughter, and soft music. Raising her cane, Jennifer pounded on the door. She heard screams from inside as she startled them, and had to fight back laughter.

“What the fuck – ” Sam started, until she saw who was outside her door. “What the hell was that for?”

“As a Goddess,” Jennifer patiently explained, “I need to make an entrance.” She thumped past Sam, who was now laughing at her.

The girls were all sitting around the huge dining table that dominated the main room. The table was covered in beads, sequins, glitter, feathers, and all manner of sparkly, shiny things. The smell of hot glue, daiquiris, and good wine permeated the air, and Jennifer sighed. She settled into a chair at the end of the table so she could put her foot up, and took her bustier out of the bag. Spreading it on the table, she joined in the fun, gluing and stitching and drinking and laughing with her friends.

When she was done, her bustier was fabulous. She stood and held it up to her. Two sprays of large red feathers were stitched to the bra cups, but sparse enough that some skin would show through. Red and gold beads, sequins, and feathers festooned the rest of it, and she smiled at her handiwork.

The girls all held theirs up too, and with a shared look, started to strip off their tops. They got fastened into their creations, and lined up in front of the mirror. “We look fucking fabulous!” Gail crowed.

“We sure do,” Cheryl said.

“Damn, I’m sorry I’m gonna miss the shirtless studs,” Jennifer lamented. A little of her tattoo was visible, and you weren’t quite sure if you were seeing flesh or not. It was just the look she was going for.

Stephanie threw a bag of feathers at Jen’s head. “Shut up,” she said. “You’re gonna be cozied up to Richie Sambora. I can’t seem to muster up any sympathy for you.”

“And don’t forget,” Gail added, “she attended a gala event with the two of them last night. Look.” She went to her laptop and signed on to Getty images. There was a shot from last night, Jennifer in the middle of two very gorgeous, very smug looking men.

“Whoa,” Jennifer said. “I didn’t think they’d be out already. Hey, I look pretty good next to them.” She told them all about her night; the people she met and dancing with Richie, and talking with Jon about the team. “It was a surreal night.”

The girls were all gushing over the pictures Gail was bringing up, and Jennifer pulled Sam aside. “Sam, can we use your suite to watch the parade?” She looked over Sam’s shoulder to make sure the others couldn’t hear. “T doesn’t want to go anywhere where she’d be photographed with Jon – not yet anyway – and this would be perfect.”

Sam slid her key from her back pocket and gave it to Jen. “Of course. I’ll make sure there are drinks for y’all and soda for Richie. Tell him he owes me a big kiss for that. With tongue. Soda at a celebration – what is he, a kid?”

Jennifer laughed. “I’ll tell him about the kiss, but don’t be surprised if he does it. And yeah, he is a big kid, but thanks for the soda. He’s doing so well, and I don’t want to derail him.”

Sam gave Jennifer a quick hug. “Don’t think anything of it,” she said. “You gonna wear that back?” She looked at her watch. “Richie should be downstairs soon.”

On cue, Jennifer’s phone rang – Beautiful Stranger. “That’s him.” She raised her voice. “Girls, my rock star awaits, so I’m gonna cut out. Have fun at the parade.”

“You sure you can’t join us?” This was from Cheryl.

“Nope, no can do, I have a date with a soon-to-be-nekkid guitarist,” she said evilly. “Poor me.”

“Fuck you,” the girls said as one, and Jennifer was smiling as she made her way back downstairs to Richie.

* * * * *

Sometime later, Jen laughed as she pulled a key card from her pocket. “Wait til you see Sam’s suite,” she said over her shoulder to Richie. Jon and T were taking their time walking from the elevator, their arms around each other’s waists.

“Awfully nice of your girlfriends to let us watch the parade from their balcony,” Richie said with a chuckle, his fingertips magnetically drawn to the graceful arch of her spine, left bare by the elaborate bustier she had decorated earlier with them. “You sure you don’t mind missing out on the shirtless studs?”

“Ya know, now that I think about it, I DO mind,” Jen whispered, pulling him inside the suite with an evil grin and lifting up the hem of his shirt.

“Whoa, down girl, don’t forget we have spectators.” Richie pressed a smiling kiss against her lips just as Jon and T walked in the suite.

“Where the hell was I when this place was available?” Jon asked, pulling his sunglasses off as he walked into the elaborate room. “And jeez, it’s like a freakin’ Mardi Gras explosion in here!” He walked over to the dining room table, large enough for eight and covered with beads, feathers, lace, fringe and glitter.

Richie picked up one of the glue guns nearby and held it up to Jon. “Easy there, podner.” Pressing the “trigger,” Richie yelped and jumped back when it began oozing hot glue onto the floor.

“That’s just perfect, Martha Stewart,” Jen said, smiling gratefully when T grabbed a hand towel and began blotting up the glue.

“Oh man, this is pretty cool,” Richie said, amused by his new toy and looking around evilly for something else to play with.

As the girls cleaned up Richie’s mess, Jon walked out onto the balcony. He’d been there before for Mardi Gras and Bourbon Street looked quiet in comparison, but he knew once the parade started winding its way up from Canal Street, that would change.

Unaware that Richie had just smugly glued a hot pink feather to his ass, Jon leaned over the rail and peered down into the street. He could just barely hear the sounds of the brass and drum line a few blocks away. Grateful that they would be able to watch without being “observed,” he turned and walked back in the suite, noticing several bottles of wine and champagne chilling in an enormous silver tub. The note on the table read, “Thought y’all might enjoy some refreshments while watching all the fun. There’s a box of beads on the balcony with your name on it. Save the long silver ones for me. XOX, Sam”

“I like this girl already,” Jon chuckled, pulling a bottle of Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio from the tub. “Babe, you want some?”

“Oh hey, T, Sam left us some daiquiris in the fridge since she knew I don’t like wine,” Jen called from the balcony. She had already chosen a seat in the corner and Richie had helped her prop her leg up on a nearby side table. They were combing through the box of beads, choosing which they wanted to wear and which they wanted to throw.

T accepted a glass of wine from Jon with a smile and went to the fridge. “Holy SHIT, this girl knows how to throw a party,” she exclaimed, pulling out three gallon jugs of daiquiris. “You want white Russian, strawberry, or something called DOA?”

Richie smiled. “Is there anything else in there?”

Jon came back with a can of Pepsi. “Here ya go, bro,” he said.

Richie took a long, satisfying swig, then belched. “Damn, Jen, Sam rocks.”

“Yeah, I know. She said you better be laying some tongue on her for laying in some soda for you,” Jen grinned, rolling her eyes. She knew Sam was all talk.

Richie looked momentarily shocked. “She would piss her pants if I did that.”

“Why, cause she’d be afraid Jen would beat the crap out of her?” T asked with a smile, handing Richie a large plastic cup full of a mixture that was almost entirely grain alcohol.

“Y’all just don’t understand Sam’s humor,” Jen replied, blinking her lashes and affecting the Southern accent of her friend. “She’d be the one beating the crap out of Richie. Don’t forget, she’s a happily married woman.”

“No such thing,” Jon laughed, already pouring a second glass of wine. “We could change her mind, right Rich?”

“Like hell,” T chuckled, sliding her hand inside Jon’s back pocket and pulling him possessively against her.

Just then the marching band appeared on the next block and the foursome eagerly leaned forward. The spectacle they saw was amazing – throngs of people were partying behind the band, waving brightly covered handkerchiefs and twirling umbrellas in the air. Clearly, they weren’t all Soul fans, the “second line” picking up random bystanders as they passed to dance, drink, and “laissez les bon temps rouler.”

“So when do I get to check out all these girls I’ve been chatting with on your board, sweetheart?” Jon asked with an amused chuckle.

T glanced at Jen. “Do you see them yet?”

Sipping happily on her strawberry daiquiri, Jen tilted her head back and gazed at Richie with a wide grin. “Don’t worry, you’ll know them when you see them.”

“Oh yeah,” Richie said with conviction. “That’s for damn sure.”

The second line passed and the foursome threw giant armloads of beads to the crowd, as everyone on all the other balconies materialized to do the same.

The parade was coming to an end and T and Jon sent a perplexed look toward Richie and Jen. “Did we miss them?”

Richie leaned forward in his chair and looked down. Shaking his head with a giant belly laugh, he nudged Jen’s good knee. “Nope. They’re right there.”

Jon and T peered over the rail. Directly below them were Cheryl, Gail and Steph. Cheryl was wearing a royal blue bustier that perfectly complemented her fair coloring, decorated with blue and orange beads and feathers and screaming “Go SOUL!!!” to the onlookers. Gail, meanwhile had a gorgeous black bustier trimmed with silver and purple, walking as regally as the queen of England and waving to her admirers. Stephanie sipped a daiquiri and smiled, looking resplendent in a red bustier with gold and black beads and feathers.

Wrapping his arms around T, Jon playfully nibbled her ear. “Damn, baby, why didn’t you tell me your friends are so hot. I would have played with them a lot more on that board.”

Ignoring him, T looked beyond the trio, murmuring, “But where’s Sam?”

Richie leaned forward and pointed. “That’s her right there.” Richie turned to Jen. “Baby, I think we know what she did with your studs.”

Below their balcony, six stunning young men, each no more than 21 and wearing painted-on white jeans and nothing else, were marching in lock step and carrying a platform bearing a large cushion where Sam was reclined wearing blue jeans, silver heels, and a purple bustier, festooned with green and gold beads and gigantic purple ostrich feathers soaring over her head. A sequined eye mask with long feathers fanning out from the sides completed the look -- every bit the “queen of New Orleans.”

Pouring herself another glass of wine from the bottle next to her, Sam winked and offered the foursome a silent toast, with a special wave for T.

Note that this was a collaboration among me, T, and FictionMistress

Arena Bowl Weekend: Friday

Saturday, August 8, 2009
Stephanie and Jennifer were at Logan at 7:30; they were taking no chances at being late. Richie had arranged for a driver in an SUV to pick them up at Jennifer's house. Another driver would take Jennifer back home on Monday. The driver took them directly to the private plane terminal, where they went through a modified security process and were checked in. The girls' baggage was whisked away, presumably to be put on the plane.

Afterwards, an attendant led them to a cluster of leather sofas and invited them to sit, bringing them glasses of icy cold water, and Jennifer took the opportunity to pop her Valium - just half this time. By 7:50, the girls were getting antsy, and nearly leapt from the couch when they saw the pilot and co-pilot approaching.

Both men had the arrogant swagger that was the stereotype for pilots, and Stephanie and Jennifer were giggling behind their hands. With their aviator sunglasses and crew cuts, they looked like extras from Top Gun. The pilots greeted the women, smirking at their enthusiasm.

"First time in a private plane?" the pilot asked with a hint of ridicule in his voice.

"One this small," Jennifer answered, feeling prickly at his attitude. "What is this, a Gulf IV?" The pilot nodded. "Huh, I'm used to the jumbo Boeing," she said. "That's what we usually take when we travel abroad, the bedrooms come in handy when we travel to Bangalore, but I guess domestically, the G-4 is alright." The pilot was looking agog at her. "Shall we?" Jennifer asked, and looped arms with Stephanie.

The pilots led the two women out to the tarmac. There, a gorgeous plane, painted jet-glow white with gold, gray and blue stripes, awaited. Jennifer watched as their baggage was loaded, and a set of stairs was wheeled into place. Noses held high, the girls slowly ascended the stairs into the cabin of the plane.

The plane had two passenger cabins separated by a pocket door. The forward cabin had four swiveling leather chairs, a four-cushion couch, and a single stationary forward facing chair, in the event there was someone who preferred the traditional flying position. The aft cabin had two single leather chairs and a four-cushion couch. All the chairs throughout the plane were done in beige leather, the couches in chocolate brown leather. The cabin also had beige carpet and dark woodwork. "This is gorgeous!" Stephanie said, as they made their way into the forward cabin. Jennifer gimped to the couch and strapped herself in.

"This is where I'm staying the whole trip," she said, glad to be sitting again. She had to agree with Stephanie. Richie done good. She pulled out her blackberry, and called Rich, but got his voicemail. After the beep, she said, "Not sure where you are, baby, but the plane is gorgeous. We're strapping ourselves in now, and should hit Jersey in a little more than an hour, give or take. Talk to you then. Love you, bye."

An attendant came from the aft cabin, startling the girls. "Ladies, I'm Jerry, and will be taking care of you throughout the flight. We have a fully stocked galley in the aft cabin, so anything you need, within reason of course, we should be able to accommodate. There's a full lav back there as well. Can I get you something to drink?"

The girls settled on Diet Coke, and once they had their drinks, settled in to chat. The pilot announced they were ready to take off, and Jennifer felt the effects of her Valium. "Right on time," she said, as the plane taxied down the runway.

About an hour later, they were in New Jersey. Jennifer and Stephanie looked out the porthole windows and saw two figures standing outside a building, waving wildly. The two girls in the plane had wide smiles and waited anxiously for the plane to stop. Once it did, the two women outside tore up the tarmac, and flew up the stairs, bursting into the cabin. After a round of hugs and kisses, and exclamations over Jennifer's brace, they settled in with their own drinks, and took off for Louisiana.

Once airborne, Jennifer called Richie again, again getting his voicemail. "Baby, we're in Jersey, just taken off. We've got everyone here, and we should be hitting the ground again - ugh, I hate that expression by the way - in about three hours. See you then! Love you, bye."

A little less than three hours later, they were on the ground in New Orleans. The four women descended the stairs of the plane to find a Humvee limo waiting for them. Jennifer smiled. Richie knew she couldn't get into a low-slung car, and this touched her heart that he thought to do this. The driver waved to the girls and opened the back door, and Richie came out. "Girls!" he called, waving to them.

"Richie!" they all squealed at once, and the three who were able, ran to give him hugs and kisses and to thank him for the terrific plane, and the gorgeous car.

"HEY!" Jennifer shouted. "What about me?"

Richie smiled and strode to Jennifer's side, kissing her deeply. "Welcome to New Orleans," he said. "I'm so glad you came. How are you? Flight okay?"

"Yep, fine," Jennifer agreed. "Only took half a pill, so I'm okay. I'd really like to get to the hotel though; I need a little nap before the thing tonight."

Richie led her back to the car, and helped her get into it. They took off for downtown, dropping the others off at the Royal Sonesta before heading to their hotel. Richie took Jennifer's bags, and brought them up to their suite. Jennifer and Richie unpacked her things, and Richie could see Jennifer was fighting sleep.

"Go take a nap, baby," Richie said, kissing her tenderly.

"Nap with me," Jennifer said sleepily.

Richie helped Jennifer off with her clothes, wincing at the dark blue brace marring the perfect lines of her body. He shucked his own clothes, and helped her slide into bed. He went to the other side and slid in alongside her. After setting an alarm for 4pm, he wrapped her in his arms, and the pair fell asleep. When the alarm went off a couple hours later, Jennifer was disoriented. She sat up and looked around for the alarm, and chuckled when Richie's arm flapped out from under the sheets and found it with unerring accuracy, smacking it firmly. "I think you killed it, baby," she said.

"Good," Richie said grumpily. "I'll order coffee," he said, "and Diet Coke."

"I'll go get the shower started," Jennifer said, hobbling to the bathroom. She was touched to see there was a walk-in shower, so she wouldn't have to climb over anything to get in and out of it. There were grab bars in there, and a shower seat with a long plastic board for her leg, so it would stay straight. Smiling at Richie's thoughtfulness and thoroughness, she adjusted the water, un-velcroed her brace, and caned into the shower. She sat, keeping her leg on the board, and washed the best she could. The hand-held shower nozzle helped and she was nearly done when Richie came into the bathroom stark naked, carrying a mug of coffee and a can of soda, both of which he set on the countertop.

Richie came into the shower and wordlessly took the nozzle from Jennifer's hand, and ran it over his body. Jennifer lathered up the soap and washed what she could reach; pulling him forward by the hips so she could reach more. Soon, her attentions got the better of him, and his cock started to rise. Jennifer chuckled, and helped it, rubbing it with a soapy hand, her palm slipping and sliding across his skin. When he was fully aroused, Jennifer reached for the showerhead, and gently rinsed the soap from him. Richie grabbed onto the walls' helper bars, and groaned when Jennifer took him in her mouth. She sucked and pulled on him roughly, and in minutes, he was groaning her name, begging for release. Jennifer squeezed his balls lightly, and smacked his ass, and her name was a breath on his lips as she brought him off.

Richie slumped against the wall, and caught his breath, then knelt in front of Jennifer and gathered her in close to his chest. He kissed her neck, and down to her breasts. Jennifer put a finger under his chin and raised his head. "Later, baby," she said. "I need the time to get ready for tonight."

"But-" Richie started to protest, but Jennifer shushed him.

"Baby, that was so you don't have a raging hard on all night once you see me in my dress," she winked. Richie laughed loudly, his barks echoing off the tiled walls of the shower. They finished up and turned off the water. Richie helped dry Jennifer's leg and carefully wrapped the brace around it, securing it as the Italian kid had shown them. After helping her to her feet, Jennifer wrapped a towel around her head, and she went to get dressed while Richie dried his hair.

Jennifer slid into her panties and strapped on a pair of flat sandals. Walking to the closet, she pulled out her dress; an ankle-length sheath of burgundy silk with a deep vee halter front and no back. She slipped it over her head, and adjusted it in the mirror. Richie came from the bathroom, saying, "All yours baby - holy shit." He had seen the back of Jennifer's dress, or lack of. Jennifer turned around, showing the front. The deep vee ended nearly at her navel. "Are you trying to kill me?" Richie asked.

Jennifer smiled. "Nope, just want to make you proud to have me on your arm, and I think this dress just about does it."

"Darlin', I'd be proud to have you on my arm no matter what you were wearing." Richie crossed the room to kiss her.

"You're sweet. Now outta my way, I need to go do my hair and war paint."

Jennifer had just disappeared into the bathroom when there was a knock on the door. Richie opened it and there was Jon, looking like someone had just kicked his favorite dog. "Man, you look like shit," Richie said. "What the hell happened?" He considered his friend for a moment.

"You're bummed because your girl couldn't come with you aren't you?"

Jon checked his friend's face for signs of amusement or ridicule, but didn't see any. "Yeah, I am," he admitted.

"Well, then it's a good thing mine is dressed up enough to make even you notice," Richie laughed. "If she doesn't cheer you up a little, then there's something seriously wrong with you." The men had coffee and talked about the game on Sunday for a little while. Then the bathroom door opened.

Richie stood instinctively, and Jon, chuckling, followed suit. "Ready or not," Jennifer called, "here I come!" She limped out and was surprised to find Jon in their suite. He was dressed in a jet-black suit, with a white Oxford shirt underneath. The first few buttons of the shirt were undone, and a good amount of chest was showing. Nestled in his chest hair was a pewter cross on a leather thong. "Good evening, Jon," she said. "You look great."

"Ditto," Jon said, looking at Jennifer, and missing Tiff even more.

"What about me?" Richie complained.

Jennifer and Jon said to him, at the same time, "You look like shit," then burst out laughing. Jennifer turned to Richie. "You know I'm kidding, baby," she said, and went to him and kissed him lightly. "You look fantastic." Richie's suit fit him perfectly, and his shirt was unbuttoned nearly to the waist. He was sans necklaces tonight, and Jennifer was salivating at the sight of all that tanned skin.

"So do you," Richie replied. Her makeup was light and flawless, and her hair fell in golden waves down her back. "Where's your cane?"

"There's a special one in the closet, just for this weekend" Jennifer said, laughing. Jon was closer, so he went into the closet and laughed again. There was an old-fashioned walking stick with a gold tiger's head as a handle. Jennifer had wound a black ribbon around its throat and mouth, and it looked like it was being strangled. It was the closest to a Sabercat that she could find.

He handed Jennifer her cane. "Nice," he said, smiling.

"Gotta show support for my team," she said with a wink.

The three of them went down the elevator to the lobby, one man on either side of her. Richie went to grab her hand, but it was already fastened to the handrail in the elevator car. A short minute later they were crossing the marble floor of the hotel. As they exited the lobby, the doorman opened the rear door of the Humvee limo Richie had kept. He handed Jennifer in, then climbed in himself to sit next to her. Jon climbed in too, and sat across from them.

The trip to the Superdome was short, and Jennifer was getting more and more excited the closer they got. Richie had briefed her on what to do and what not to do with the press. Basically, she should just smile and wave, and not answer any of their questions, no matter how impertinent they may be. When they pulled up, Jennifer could see a literal red carpet and rope barriers to keep people back. When the back door opened, there was an explosion of flash bulb light and a cacophony of shouts, and they didn't even know who was in the car yet.

Jon left first, stopping to flash a fake smile and have his picture taken. He strolled up the red carpet like he didn't have a care in the world. When he got to the end, he turned to watch his friend get out of the car. The flash bulbs exploded again, and he smiled and leaned into the car. "Ready?" he asked. Jennifer just nodded. She scooted to the end of the seat, and Richie helped her out, then reached back in for her cane.

With as much dignity as she could muster, she walked slowly by Richie's side. There were questions being shouted at them, about who she was and how'd she get hurt and was she Richie's girlfriend. Jennifer's heart was pounding, but she kept a happy smile on her face, which was not hard to do, and kept her hand on Richie's arm. When they stopped for photos, she put the cane behind her and leaned into Richie for support.

When they got to the doors and Jon, they turned for more photos, keeping Jennifer in the middle. Then she stepped aside, and let the two of them have their shots taken. When they were all done, Richie smiled. "You did real good, darlin'," he said, kissing her cheek. "Let's go."

The three of them made their way inside and found their table. They were sitting with some of the other owners and players and their dates at a large round table. Richie got her settled and introduced her to the others at the table. "Baby," he said, hesitatingly.

"Go," she said, flapping a hand at him. "Mingle. I'll be fine. Just don't forget where you put me."

After the initial schmoozing, Richie and Jon came back to the table. Jennifer found herself sitting between them during dinner, and had an up-close look at the sadness in Jon's eyes. When the awards had been given out, Jennifer stood and applauded with the others when the owners and team captains went to get their trophies. When the music started, Richie asked Jennifer to dance she looked sideways at Jon, and shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. "I think I'd better not."

Jon looked at her, touched by her thoughtfulness. "Jennifer, it's alright. Go dance with Rich, just be careful."

She stood, and lightly kissed his cheek. "Thanks," she said. "We'll be back in a few minutes."

As Jon watched them ease onto the dance floor and move slowly together, his thoughts turned once again to Tiffany and he wondered what she was doing at that moment. He glanced at his watch. She'd still be at the station, taking calls for the request show she did on Fridays.

His mind drifted off to last Friday night. He could see her clearly in his mind, wearing those jeans worn smooth from many washings that clung to every curve. She'd kicked off her sandals and the strings from the frayed hem of the jeans hung down on the tanned tops of her feet drawing the eye down to the flash of gold on the middle toe of her left foot. When he'd seen the Slippery t-shirt, he'd asked if it was vintage, and she'd just raised an eyebrow and asked, "Whaddya think?" It was certainly well worn, with a few holes here and there. Probably was. Her long honey colored hair hung down her back.

He'd been sitting across the counter from her while she stood behind the microphone. She had never been still. She'd danced to the music, pushing buttons every so often to answer the phone. The female callers acted like Tiff was their best friend. Guys had flirted with her, and she'd flirted back. He had bristled with jealousy until she'd put the phone lines on hold and come around the counter climbed up in his lap, kissing him until he'd been breathless.


Jon shook his head to clear the lust. He really needed to hear her voice. Looking out over the dance floor, he spotted Richie's tall form carefully leading Jennifer through the steps and around the floor. They'd be out there at least a few more minutes. Quickly making a decision, he stood up and crossed the room with a purposeful stride. He'd been to so many of these things, he knew which areas to avoid. Easily, he found a door leading out to a patio for the smokers to indulge.

She answered before the first ring was done. "Hold on," she whispered quickly. He could hear her talking to a listener on the phone. He heard her call him Gary. Wait. Wasn't that the guy that kept telling her that he loved her last week? Jon made a mental note to ask her about the guy. She really didn't need to be dealing with a deranged stalker right now.

"Hey baby," she said when she picked the phone back up. "How's the party going?" She knew he was at the gala; she'd just looked at the clock and thought about what he was doing.

"It sucks, baby," he answered.

She loved it when he called her baby. She'd already learned that his throw-away endearment was doll. He called every strange woman 'doll'. The way his voice dropped just a bit when he said 'baby' made her feel all warm inside, but the way he ended the word with just a whisper on the y made her wet.

"What's wrong?" she asked, putting the request lines on hold.

"You're not here," he answered.

"I'm sorry, baby," she apologized, "but I'll be there in the morning."

"11:05 is just barely 'morning'," he pointed out.

"Would you rather I fly out tonight?"

"Yeah," he said excitedly, "could ya?"

"No," she answered, laughing slightly, "remember? There wasn't a seat on the only flight that leaves after I get off work."

"I'll charter you something."

"No you won't. Quit being an impatient rock star," she teased. "I'll be there in the morning."

"I miss you," he said softly.

"I miss you, too."

Quickly, Jon looked around him. Seeing he was alone, he lowered his voice and said huskily, "I wanna be inside you. I wanna make you scream my name and come apart in my arms. I wanna taste your sweetness until nothing could get the taste outta my mouth."

Her silence was telling, and he just smirked to himself.

"You had me at 'I wanna be inside you'," she whispered hoarsely. "How am I supposed to work now?"

"You're not," he answered, smiling. "You're supposed to agree to fly out tonight."

Tiffany was silent for several seconds processing it all. If she let him get away with this, he'd always be trying to get her to play hookie to do whatever he wanted, and he'd always think that what he did was more important than her job.

"Jon, I can't. I have to finish the request show. I'll see you in the morning."

Jon sighed. He knew he'd been unreasonable; he just needed her too damn bad. "Okay, baby. I'll see you in the morning. Hey, did you remember to do what I asked you to do?"

"You mean posting on the board saying I wasn't coming to the game?" she asked.


"Yes I did. You never did explain why you wanted me to do that."

"Richie told me that several of the women from the board are coming to the game and going to be hanging out with Hath. He wanted to warn me because if they knew you were coming they'd wanna meet you, and once they'd met you, if they saw photos of the two of us or anything, they'd know I was 'Billy'."

"Oh," she breathed. As much as she'd like to meet some of the girls from her board, she didn't want to out Jon either. "I get it."

"Baby, I gotta get back," he said regretfully. "I love you."

"Good night," she answered. "I'll see you in the morning."

"You better," he told her. "Dream about me," he ordered gently.

"Of course."

Note that the Jon/Tiff parts were written by T

Arena Bowl Sendoff

Monday, August 3, 2009
The “brace boy” arrived at 9 sharp at the gates outside. When Jennifer answered the intercom, a gorgeous, melodious voice poured through the speakers. “It is Vincenzo Salvatore,” the voice announced. “I am here for Jennifer.”

Richie chuckled. “Like hell you are,” he said under his breath, then reached around Jennifer to push the button. “Come on up,” he said, mustering his deepest baritone tones.

Jennifer just looked at him, recognizing his caveman slipping out. “Gimme a break, Rich,” she said, and hobbled to the door, opening it and standing on the porch. A nondescript midnight blue van came up the driveway and stopped just short of the curve that would take him around back. The driver’s side door opened and a tall, dark, and stunning younger man stepped out. He had gray-green eyes, and long dark hair, gathered at his nape with a leather thong. “You are Jennifer, yes?” he asked, his accent washing over Jennifer like a summer breeze.

She couldn’t help but smile, he was just so pretty. This was going to drive Rich mad. “I’m the only one with a cane, darlin’,” she said, “so I must be. Come on in.” She waited for him to come up on the porch before turning to go into the house. She led him to the living room, and caned her way over to the couch where she had taken up nearly permanent residence. Sighing, she hefted her leg up onto the seat next to her.

Vincenzo slid a nervous look at Richie before kneeling by the couch and putting his hands on Jennifer’s leg. He gently palpated the knee, checking for swelling, then measured the circumference of her thigh and calf with a tailor’s tape he had in his pocket, making notes. “You like the blue or the gray?” he asked, as he measured the length of her leg.

“Blue I think,” Jennifer said. “It makes more of a statement.”

Vincenzo laughed. “I think that you make quite a statement without the brace, yes?”

Jennifer blushed. “You are very kind,” she said. Richie rolled his eyes, and the younger man touched her leg again gently before going to get the correct size brace from the van.

“You’re kidding right?” Richie said. “He is a child!”

Jennifer laughed and reached for Richie’s hand. “Oh come on, I’m just having a little fun. You know you’re the only one I want touching me.” She tugged on his hand and he knelt in front of her. “In fact, once brace boy is gone,” she said, trailing kisses up his neck to his ear, which she licked before continuing on a whisper, “why don’t you remind me just how much I like your hands on me?”

Richie smiled and crushed his mouth to Jennifer’s. A discrete cough at the doorway had them parting. “Sorry,” Richie said shrugging, not at all sorry. “I couldn’t resist.”

After Vincenzo left, Jennifer was smiling widely. “Look at me!” she said. “I can walk again!” She put her hands up to heaven and gave her very best televangelist impersonation. “Behold-ah! She is healed-ah! Can I get an amen-ah…”

Richie just laughed at her. “This doesn’t mean you can go running around like the whirling dervish you are,” he said. “It just means I don’t get to carry you around anymore.”

He put on such a pout that Jennifer had to laugh. “Rich, I’ll make you a deal. You can always carry me to bed, how ‘bout that?”

Riche’s grin split his face and lit up the room. He scooped her up, making her squeak. “That is a deal I can live with, my love. Now,” he said with a sigh, “I guess it’s time to get me packing so we can get to the airport.” He lowered his voice sexily. “I’ll have to put my hands on you later.”

Richie carried Jennifer upstairs and deposited her on the bed. He started packing his bags. Richie had been stalking back and forth between the closet and the suitcases now open on the bed. He was glaring at his clothes, and Jennifer burst out laughing. “Baby, you’ve been packing for trips most of your life, what is the problem? You knew you were flying to NOLA from here when you packed for here.”

“I know, baby, but tomorrow night is the first thing we’re doing together as a couple, and hell…” he blushed.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Rich, you sound like me,” Jennifer laughed. “You want to make sure you look good? Darlin’, you could wear torn sweats and a dingy, grease-stained wife-beater and still look smokin’ hot. BUT, if you want my help… since it said no tuxes, I’d go with the dark gray pinstripe suit and the burgundy shirt for tomorrow night. My dress is burgundy, and we’ll match.” She winked. “It’ll look good in the pictures.”

Richie dropped a quick kiss on Jennifer’s lips. “Have I told you today that I love you? Thanks, honey.”

Jennifer smiled. “You did tell me, but I don’t get tired of hearing it. I love you too, and you’re welcome. Now hurry the fuck up.”

They got Richie packed and off to the airport with time to spare. The plan was to pick up Stephanie at her gate, then drop Richie off at his. Richie got himself checked in and they went off in search of Stephanie. About half an hour later, the other woman was coming through the gates, baggage in tow. “Jen! Richie!” she called when she caught sight of them.

“Stephanie!” Jennifer answered, and held her arms out for a hug.

“Nice brace,” Stephanie said, smiling and hugging her friend.

“You think that’s nice, you should have seen the brace-fitter,” Jennifer answered, smiling. “You definitely would have liked him. Vincenzo Salvatore,” Jennifer added, with a dramatic Italian accent. “Very nice.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Richie said, smiling. “Hey, Steph,” he said, leaning into kiss her briefly on the lips.

“Oooh!” Stephanie said, and swayed on her feet.

Richie caught her before she could fall and asked, “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

Stephanie just laughed, and dramatically put the back of her hand to her forehead. “Just giving you the swoon you deserve, rock star.”

“Bitch!” Richie said without rancor, and stood her up, then dropped his arms from her. The trio walked through the airport to Richie’s gate. Stephanie wandered away to give the couple a minute alone.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Richie said.

“You sure will,” Jennifer said. “And Stephanie, Gail, and Cheryl.”

Richie shrugged. “Coming to retrieve a plane full of beautiful women is not a hardship darlin’,” he said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jennifer said. When Richie’s flight was announced, she kissed Richie soundly. “Have a good flight, and have fun tonight,” she said.

Richie smiled wryly. “Interviews aren’t all that fun,” he said. “But thanks. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Jennifer said. “See you tomorrow.”

The pair shared a steamy kiss and Richie reluctantly went through security to his gate. He turned once to wave and blow a kiss to Jennifer, then disappeared in the crowd.

Once he was safely in the air, Richie pulled out his phone.

“Hey man,” he said, when Jon answered. “I’m on the way, where are you?”

“Still at T’s,” Jon answered. “I’m heading out a little later. What’s up? Jen still coming?”

Richie smiled. “Yeah, she’s coming. She and Stephanie are picking up Gail and another girl in Jersey before heading down.” He shook his head. “It took more convincing than it should have, but she’s coming. Listen, I need some advice.”

“And this couldn’t wait until we were at the hotel?”

“You know damned well that once we hit the hotel, there won’t be five minutes to piss let alone talk.” Richie laughed at his own wit and lowered his voice. “It is about Jennifer… and Ava.”

“Jesus, Rich,” Jon swore. “This again?” he asked, though his mind was whirring.

“Kidd, hear me out. Jennifer is going to need someone to help her for the six weeks that she’s in the brace. She can’t drive, her mother won’t drive the SUV, and she can’t comfortably get into a low-slung car.”

Jon was quiet for a moment. “So, hire a service. Next…”

“Man, a service isn’t going to help her get dressed or into and out of the shower.” He could practically hear Jon’s objections. “I know, I know, her mother could help her with that part, but man, I want to help her.”

“So what’s this have to do with your daughter?” Jon asked, though he knew damned well where this was going.

Richie huffed out a breath. “Well, you know I was going home on Monday. I was thinking of going to collect Ava and bringing her to Jen’s place with me.”

There was dead silence on the other end of the line.

“Rich, why are you so dead set on doing this? Really.”

“I love her, man. I love her and I trust her, and I want her all the way in my life, and that means meeting Ava.”

"Shit," Jon answered. "Rich, I'm not the guy to be asking this stuff. Because right now, I'm sitting on the same damn fence. I want T to meet my kids. I want her to meet my parents and my brothers. I want her all the way in my life too. So, maybe I've made a complete 360 here, but damn, I get it now. I say go for it."

"So, when can I meet this paragon of feminine perfection?" Richie asked, surprised.

"Not 'til some time Saturday," Jon answered.

"You mean she's not coming with you today?"

"Naaaa," Jon replied, "she's gotta work."

"Well hell," Richie answered. "that mean you're gonna be flying solo to the gala on Friday night?"


Richie could hear the sadness in his friend's voice. Needing to cheer Jon up, Richie teased, "Uh oh, that means the vultures will be circling."

A choked bark of laughter was the expected answer. "Yeah, it's tough bein' me."

"Yeah, too bad they're not put off by your arrogance," Richie added sarcastically.

"And they actually seem to like it," Jon pointed out, ignoring Richie's sarcasm.

"There's no accounting for taste."

"Fuck you, asshole."

"No thanks," Richie said out of habit, but then after a brief pause, "but one of these days I just might shock the hell outta you and take you up on the offer."

Jon laughed.

"You'll tell me more than an initial when you introduce her, right?" Richie questioned.

"No can do, bro," Jon answered. "I promised."

"Well shit," Richie swore, "it'll be weird calling someone other than Tico, T."

"You'll have to adjust," Jon quipped.

"I'll catch up with you in New Orleans," Richie said in closing.

"Yeah," Jon answered. "Bye, bro."

"Richie," Tiffany said from the doorway. The word wasn't a question. Somehow, she knew that was the only person who could've been on the other end of the phone. She crossed the deck, and Jon pulled her down to join him on the lounger.

Like butterfly wings, his lips barely brushed softly against her forehead with every word he spoke. "I'm gonna miss you." He'd gotten very used to going to sleep with her in his arms and waking up to her smiling face.

"I'm gonna miss you, too," she answered.

"Are you sure that I can't tell Richie what the T stands for?"

"No, Jon," she answered for what seemed like the millionth time.

"You didn't have a problem telling me," he pointed out for the first time.

Tiffany raised her eyebrows in surprise. He had never continued to poke after she'd said no. "I didn't want you to sound stupid calling out 'Teeeeeee' in ecstasy."

Even though there was no denying the seriousness of her tone, Jon laughed. "You told me before we ever met face to face."

"I had high hopes even then," she answered dryly.

Laughter erupted from his full lips, until he realized she wasn't laughing. "You weren't joking, were you?"

With a raise of her honey brown eyebrows and a slight lift to the left corner of her lovely mouth, she gave him a perfect imitation of Joe-V. "What do you think?"

"I think you were a little too confident," he teased.

"But, I was right," she pointed out.

His arms tightened around her as he laughed. "Yes you were, baby."

"Are you all packed?"

"Yeah, baby."

They'd decided he would drive his rental to the airport, instead of her taking him. Tiffany didn't want an emotional scene at the airport. In public.

She wasn't quite ready for any part of his public life. She knew that there was rarely a time when there wasn't a camera trained on him, documenting his every move. Hell, she knew they'd take pictures of him taking a shit - if they could get the right camera angle. He was more than willing to adhere to her wishes, even if he'd hoped for someone who was willing to share everything with him including the very public side. He'd been accustomed to Dot not wanting to go to celebrity functions with him. Many times he'd said in interviews that, that was his job, not Dot's or the kids' job, that they didn't choose that lifestyle. He did.

But -

He had been really hoping that Tiffany would accept him. Warts and all. Silently, he reminded himself that she'd said that she wasn't ready for it yet, not that she didn't want it at all.

Jon bent his head to press heated kisses on her neck. In between kisses and nibbles, he whispered, "I love you."

"Jon," she murmured.

"I know," he breathed against her skin, "you told me you're not ready yet. I don't need you to be. I just need you to be with me."

"That I can do," she told him.

"Great," he growled, licking that spot behind her ear that he'd already learned drove her crazy.

She moaned his name, but then pulled away from him slightly. "Really. I only came out here to tell you it was getting late. If you don't leave soon, you'll never make your flight on time."

He glanced at his watch. "Yeah, I guess you're right, but I really don't wanna leave you."

"I'll see ya on Saturday. That's just two days away," she told him, smiling.

"And two very long nights," he pointed out, sticking out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout.

"Don't be a baby," she laughed.

He stood up and pulled her up and into his arms. "Don't be so bossy."

"You like it when I'm bossy," she told him. "C'mon, I already put your stuff by the door."

"Are you rushing me?" he asked, moving towards the door, pulling her with him.

"No, I just don't want you to be late," she answered as she allowed him to lead her to the door.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I am gonna miss you."

"I'm gonna miss you, too."

He picked up his bag, quickly throwing the strap over his shoulder. "I'll see you Saturday morning," he told her softly.
"Saturday," she agreed.

Was his eyes deceiving him? Or, were her eyes tearing up? He bent down to kiss her lips. "Don't cry, baby," he pleaded. He never could stand to see a woman cry. "And, don't watch me drive away, okay?"

"Okay," she answered, giving him a teary smile.

"Love you," he said quickly, then kissed her on the forehead and disappeared out the door.

Note that the Jon/Tiff parts were written by T

(c) 2008 by TheGoddessHathor

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