Abby bolted awake, her heart pounding, ragged breathing and the remnants of the nightmare slowly slipping away behind her tightly shut eyes. She slowly opened her eyes, convinced that the face she’d dreamt about would be in front of her.
Darkness.
She willed her heart to slow down, the blood rushing in her ears to go away.
She could hear Jon softly snoring next to her and began to calm down a little. She breathed heavily, feeling limp and weighty. Her eyes felt heavy and sore; as if she’d been sobbing. Jon shifted in his sleep and she turned her head to look. Her eyes became adjusted to the night and she could just make out a head of tousled hair peeking out of the quilt. He was sprawled on his front, sleepy limbs spread out. Abby smiled. She lay still for a while feeling totally depleted by the nightmare.
‘Come on Abs, it was only a bad dream and it’s gone now. Jon’s here, okay he’s asleep and it’d take a bloody nuclear attack to wake him, but he’s here and you’re safe.’ she thought, laying in a cocoon of warmth under the blanket and quilt.
She breathed in the cool night air wishing that Jon was a light sleeper and not one of the dead when it came to sleeping. Talk about Sleep When I’m Dead, Jon was more like I’ll Sleep Like The Dead. The first morning she’d woken up next to him she’d turned to face him, all sleepy smiles and happiness and had kissed him to wake him. She’d got up, sighing heavily, after he’d grumbled at her, burped, turned over and gone back to sleep for half an hour.
Abby lay, wondering whether it was worth going back to sleep. She looked at the bedside clock and groaned.
2:07am.
Whispers of the nightmare spoke to her as soon as she closed her eyes. She huffed, angrily, as she pushed the warm, heavy quilt off and swung her legs round to sit on the edge of the bed. Yawning madly but too scared to try and sleep she shuffled across the shag pile carpet and, grabbing Jon’s dressing gown off the back, quietly opened the door, letting it shut behind her with a quiet snick.
There was low level lighting inlaid into the skirting boards and she followed the slight illumination along the corridor and down the stairs. The night air was cool but not cold. The heating which was always turned to tropical had only been off a short time. Still, Abby didn’t like the dark and the lights only provided a small amount of illumination. She hurried down the wooden staircase and padded softly to the kitchen. She could see dim lighting spilling out from the area and smiled. It could mean only one thing, which was confirmed as she smelled hot chocolate in the air.
Richie was still up.
She rounded the corner into the kitchen area and smiled at the tall man sitting, his feet propped up on the table.
“Hey Abs, what are you doing up?”
“Couldn‘t sleep.” she replied, as she sat down opposite him, rolling up the sleeves of the dressing gown that was threatening to drown her in material.
“Jon still snoring his head off?” he asked, sipping the sweet chocolate.
Abby smiled, running a hand through her hair, “Yeah, still fast asleep. I think it’d take a nuclear attack to wake him when he’s in a deep sleep.”
“Tell me about it. He was always the last one on the tour bus back in the old days, then he’d put his head down and sleep until we got to the next town.” Richie chuckled as he thought of some of the journeys the band had made.
Richie looked at the young woman in front of him, noticing the dark bags under her eyes and the slightly haunted look.
“Are you sure you’re ok Abs? You look like you haven’t slept for days.
Abby tried to smile but felt as if she might break into tears. Her bottom lip wobbled and a film of tears filled her eyes.
“Hey, Abs, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
Abby looked up at Richie, seeing only kindness and concern there.
“I had a nightmare and the horrible thing is I’m sure I’ve had it before. It seemed so familiar, like I’ve dreamed it more than once.”
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“I was in a room, in the dark, with a little bit of light coming in through the window. It was really cold and there was this face,” Abby balked at the memory of the face, her face scrunched up in horror.
Richie reached out and took her hand in his. He patted her hand soothingly.
“It’s ok darlin’, the nightmare’s gone. The bad man’s gone away.”
Abby looked directly at him, eyebrows raised.
“Sorry,” he chuckled as his own words hit him, “I used to say that when Ava woke from a bad dream.”
Abby smiled kindly. “Thank you, it works.” she began before continuing, “This face is young but so old, that makes no sense I know but…he came towards me and I had nowhere to go. I could smell pine trees and snow and there was music playing far off, and then he was over me, coming closer and closer and closer until I felt his breath on my face…” She swallowed and breathed heavily, “I wanted to scream and shout and kick him off me but I was paralysed. I couldn’t move at all, I was helpless and sure I was about to die and then I closed my eyes and woke up in a sweat.”
Richie thought about it for a while. It sounded like a classic dream of being trapped and also loss of control. Ava’d had a few nightmares over the years and Richie had read a couple of books on dreams so that he could help talk her through them.
“How old where you?”
“Huh?” Abby said. She got up to make them fresh hot chocolates and turned to look at him from the kitchen counter.
“Your age, in the dream. You said it was something you think you’d had before. Maybe you had this dream as a kid. Can you think what age you were?”
“Oh, that makes sense.” she said, slowly.
“Hey, don’t make it sound like I never make sense.” he laughed softly.
She smiled as she poured boiling water onto the chocolate powder. She picked up the can of fresh cream and shook it before squirting a generous swirl on each cup and showering them both liberally with real chocolate shavings.
“Mmm,” Richie murmured appreciatively as he took a sip, “ you sure you don’t wanna give up living here and come work for me?”
Abby scrunched her nose up and shook her head, her eyes smiling. “Na.a. I like it here. Think I might stay for a while.” She smiled for a few seconds before her smile faded.
“I was 16.”
“Huh?”
“In my dream. I was 16.”
“How do you know?” he asked, intrigued as to the specific answer.
“I could hear Europe singing The Final Countdown and that was in 1986 so I must’ve been 16. I know it was in 1986 ‘cause that program Jon was playing air guitar to? Europe where on it and I remember seeing 1986 against them.”
“Did something happen to you in ‘86?” Richie asked softly.
Abby shrugged, “I’ve no idea. Believe me I’ve tried to think why I can only remember up to that year, but nothing. You know sometimes I think I don’t want to know.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, sipping the rich chocolate.
Abby paused to collect her thoughts.
“I keep getting the feeling that something horrible happened and that’s why I can’t remember past ‘86. What if I did something bad?”
“Something bad? Like what?”
“I don’t know!…I mean…Oh I don’t know what I mean. What if I work in a lab killing animals? Or even worse…”
Richie raised both eyebrows and stared at Abby. She wasn’t making much sense.
“I think you need to be telling this to Jon, much as I’m willing to listen, he’s the one you should be talking to.”
“Oh god, Jon. What if he ends up not liking me?” she said in small voice.
Richie sighed. He wondered how he was going to get out of this without telling Abby about Jon. As much as he liked her, a Jovi secret was a Jovi secret.
“Listen darlin’, I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about.”
“But…” she began, panic rising in her voice.
“Do you like who you are now?” he asked her straight.
“Erm, yes?” she replied, unsure of his question.
“Who you were then doesn’t matter, nor does it matter what you did, if you did anything at all. What matters now is who you are right now. I can’t speak for Jon but…, hell Abs, he loves you and I don’t think a few past indiscretions are going to worry him, do you?”
“Did he say that?” she asked, timidly, her eyes wide at the L word.
“Erm…not in so many words… but then actions speak louder, ya know…” he trailed off, unsure if he’d said too much already.
Abby smiled then yawned.
“Off to bed with you, young woman.” he wagged his finger at her, as if admonishing a tired child.
Abby just nodded and went without a word, her head spinning with words already said.
Saturday, 9 January 2010
Monday, 4 January 2010
Chapter Thirteen
Jon looked at the diamond Riviere necklace in his hands. He’d purchased it by auction the previous December at an auction at Rockefeller Plaza. He read the card that sat by itself in the velvet lined box. It was a William Goldberg design consisting of 51 graduated cushion-cut diamonds, mounted in platinum, 16 ins.
He bought it for Dot as a Christmas present but then the accident had happened and he’d never got round to giving it to her. Then she’d filed for divorce and it had sat in its case in one of his bank deposit boxes ever since. The light sparkled off the impressive diamonds, little rays of rainbows danced across his handsome features. If he gave it all up he probably would never be able to afford something like this again. The band, the music, the merchandise; it would all go. The royalties would remain but the money coming in would drop drastically. He thought of Philadelphia Soul, the team he’d once part owned and all the charities he ran. The paperwork was in place to keep the charities going but his name would be removed from the company’s books. Maybe Richie was right. Maybe he should take some more time to think about it all. Trouble was, once he started thinking, her face would flash up in front of him and he would freeze, unable to think of anything other than her. He’d had counselling after the accident and knew, deep down, that it hadn’t been his fault. There’d been nothing he could’ve done to stop it but still he shouldered the guilt. It sat in his stomach, nestled like a cancer.
Jon put the necklace back into its box and put it back into the metal container, ready for it to go back into the hole in the wall. In the New Year he’d put it up for Auction. See if he could recoup some of the money he’d spent on it. He smiled ruefully, he’d not received much change from $550,000. He left the small room without a backwards glance. Time to move on. Time to change.
Abby sipped the coffee and sighed in pleasure. She and Richie had one some serious shopping and had only been to two shops. Saks and Bergdorf Goodmans. She’d put a serious dent in her credit card and was feeling wonderful. Retail therapy really worked. Richie had beaten her only in the amount he’d spent. She wondered what the limit was on his black Amex and then thought it probably didn’t have a limit. Oh how wonderful that would be. To go through life without a limit on how much you could spend. She’d treated herself to a beautiful cushion cut diamond ring and hadn’t even balked at the price of $5,000. She was desperate to wear it, having been fortunate to find one in her size, but Richie had warned her against trying it on in public. She knew she was being a bit silly and naïve but the schoolgirl in her wanted to jump up and shout with glee that she loved Jon Bon Jovi and had just spent loads of money.
Richie looked at Abby, sat across from him. She was positively glowing. Her eyes were bright and her smile was a permanent fixture. A thought hit him and he acted on it.
“Are you in love with Jon?” he asked, softly.
Abby looked at him askance.
“Why would you ask that?” she asked, stalling.
“You look like someone in love.” was his reply.
“I…erm…I think I love him, but I don’t know if I’m in love with him. What does it feel like? Being in love?” she asked, curious.
“Oh, er…” he stammered at having been caught out by his own question, then smiled, “It feels like your heart doesn’t belong to you anymore but to that special someone. Like you’re never going to be whole if they’re not by your side. The cliché I guess; you can’t eat, you can’t sleep, your whole being is focused on them and only them. You think about them constantly and it makes you smile all the time, and when they touch you…you just…melt.” he sighed, staring at a point behind her head, thinking of times past.
“Oh.” Abby said, staring at her coffee before raising her eyes to his face.
“Then I guess I am.” she finished, smiling broadly, before she faltered, “But I don’t know if he feels the same, so don’t say anything, please?” she begged, suddenly on the verge of tears.
“Wildly fluctuating emotions. Check. I’d say you are, and judging by the way I got threatened off you the other night, I’d say he was feeling pretty much the same as you, but I’ll keep schtum. Don’t worry darlin’ I won’t say anything.”
“Thank you Richie. This is all so new to me. I can’t remember ever feeling like this before so I don’t know what to do.”, Abby chuckled suddenly, “God I must be behaving like a teenager.
Richie looked at the suddenly very young looking, vulnerable woman and felt a surge of protectiveness.
“Tell him darlin’, tell him how you feel. I can only guess what you’re thinking but wouldn’t it be nice to have him tell you he feels the same way?”
Abby smiled. “You’re such a nice person Richie. Thank you.”
Richie and Abby walked back into Jon’s house and stopped dead in their tracks. Jon was playing air guitar to some band on the TV, with a bright yellow and black bandanna wrapped round his head. He was head banging and seemed really caught up in the music. His eyes were shut and he had a bright smile plastered across his face. They watched, incredulously on Richie’s part, as Jon ran and, dropping to his knees, slid across the polished wood flooring, eyes still shut tight. The sound was turned up loud and he looked so carefree and happy that neither Richie nor Abby wanted to disturb him. Both, with big smiles on their faces, tried to tip toe into the kitchen area but Abby’s handbag knocked against the coffee table, which had been moved, causing it to scrape on the hard tiled floor.
Jon heard a sound and spun around to see Abby and Richie grinning at him. He felt slightly sheepish.
“Oh, er hi.” he dropped his arms and stood, looking awkward.
“Oh man, I have seen it all now!” Richie hooted with laughter, “Jon Bon Jovi playing air guitar to some one hit wonder band.”
Jon grinned, unabashed as he caught the look in Richie’s eyes and joined in with the laughter.
Abby stood to one side, perplexed and slightly puzzled as the two men broke in peals of hysterics.
She sat down on the heavy coffee table and watched as Jon slid to floor, tears of laughter running down his face. It made her laugh to see him acting like a schoolboy, playing air guitar to his favourite bands. He’d seemed so distant that first day, that seeing him opening up, bit by bit as she got to know him, was just a wonderful feeling that spread inside her and made her heart swell with joy.
Finally the laughter subsided and Richie sat down on the sofa, intent on watching the program which was, funnily enough, about one-hit wonders from the eighties and nineties.
Jon got up off the floor and padded over to Abby.
“Hey babe,” he said, sitting down next to her, “Sorry I wasn’t around this morning but I had some papers to sign.” he planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.
Abby looked into his bright blue eyes. “That’s ok. Just don’t do it again.” she grinned, thinking of the presents she’d bought him. She just knew he’d love them and couldn’t wait for him to open them.
“So, did you have a good time shopping?” he asked softly, his shoulder, brushing gently against hers.
Abby felt a liquid warmth spread through her system. She wondered how to get him upstairs without making it too obvious.
Jon watched her eyes dilate and darken, a rosy flush began to spread across the exposed skin of her chest and neck. He heard the small hitch in her breathing and smiled…slowly and sensually.
He looked over at Richie who was engrossed in the TV program. He turned back to Abby and placing a finger across his lips, silently led her to the stairs.
“Have fun you two.” Richie’s voice rang out from the sofa.
Jon looked into Abby’s flushed face and grinned. He intended to.
Jon led her into his bedroom. She looked around the huge room. It was her first time in it. It was bare, except for a huge king sized bed that dominated the space and a few pictures, placed strategically on the white walls. It was totally the opposite of what she’d thought his room would be like.
Jon took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. Unresisting, she allowed him to lead her to the bed.
Slowly he began to caress her breasts, revelling in the softness of the cashmere sweater and the hardness of her nipples. He reached down and nipped at the tender, sweet skin on her neck, watching heat infuse the area. He slowly licked the same area until it was wet and then blew softly across it, causing goosebumps.
Abby shivered with desire as Jon began to lick and kiss her neck. Oh god it felt so good. She tried to bring her arms up around his neck and winced as her sore ribs protested.
“Hey baby, you ok?” Jon murmured as he softly squeezed her breast, thumbing the nipple through her clothing.
The pain subsided as heat rushed through her. “Mmm hmm.” she murmured as she started to overheat in the cashmere.
“Jon…help me?” she breathed, looking at him.
“With what baby?” he smirked. He’d seen the flush and could feel the heat of her skin. He turned his attention back to laving her skin, slowly working his way down to the gentle swell of her breasts, barely visible in the V neck sweater.
Abby gasped as she felt liquid heat pooling in her underwear. She reached out and began to unbutton his jersey, thankful to all the Gods that had ever existed that he had an affinity for button up jerseys. She felt the soft downy hair that covered his muscular chest and smiled to herself. The smile turned into a gasp as she felt Jon’s tongue lave her nipple. He’d pulled the hidden zip of the sweater down and pushed her bra out of the way, leaving her breasts exposed to the air and to his nimble tongue and fingers.
“Oh god.” she stammered, her head hanging back as he nibbled and licked his way around her sensitive breasts.
Jon groaned as he licked a bead of sweat from between her breasts and breathed in her scent.
“Honey, please? My jeans?” she breathed, trying to wriggle herself out of them in a futile manner.
He broke away from her, causing her to shiver in the cool air.
He smiled wickedly up at her as he took the zip of the jeans into his mouth and slowly pulled the zip down, tooth by tooth, or so it seemed to Abby who was slowly being driven insane by lust.
“Jon,” she began, trying to sound coherent, “If you don’t pull my jeans off and then bury your throbbing cock inside me and fuck me hard then I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Her jeans and underwear hit the floor, as did his. She looked at him in all his splendour and smiled broadly. He was magnificent naked and especially so with a large erection pointing in her direction. She looked at the purpling head with a drop of pre cum nestled in the tip and swallowed heavily. She wanted to taste him.
Abby wriggled down the bed until she was within reach and before Jon could do anything she reached her tongue out and tasted him.
He hissed in pleasure as he felt her wrap her hot, wet tongue around his cock, feeling silver heat shoot straight to his balls. His eyes had darkened to a smoky indigo and he looked down at her through heavy lids.
Abby drew closer to him and took him into her mouth, marvelling at the feel and taste of him. She could smell his clean yet musky masculine scent rising from him and breathed it in deeply. Slowly she moved up and down his shaft, using the flat of her tongue on the underside, feeling the vein harden.
Jon placed a hand on her head and the other on her shoulder. His breathing deepened, as she swirled her tongue all over his cock.
Short, wiry hair tickled her nose as she nibbled and licked her way around his cock, her nose pressed against the cushion of hair at the base.
He smelt as he tasted. Absolutely delicious. Musk with a hint of chocolate and vanilla.
“Baby, baby, Abby…stop, stop, stop. I’m gonna cum…” he moaned, writhing.
He pulled away from her and lay her back on the bed.
“You are so good at that.” he panted, “A bit too good.” he murmured as he looked at her, spread out before him.
Abby lay on her back, feeling the softness of the down comforter underneath her. She felt complete and content and totally wanton. Smiling up at Jon, she bent her legs and opened them.
Jon’s eyes dilated to pure black as he looked at her. His breathing quickened as she slowly reached her hand down, through the soft hair and began to slowly rub her clitoris, all the while keeping eye contact with him.
Damn if that wasn’t the most erotic thing he’d seen for a good while. He licked his lips, feeling the silver heat building up again. His cock was rock hard and he slowly palmed it, pulling the sensitive skin back over the now tender head.
Abby felt the bundle of nerves under her fingers and rubbed it lightly. She moaned low in the back of her throat as electricity swarmed out from her centre. She lay panting softly as she reached out her finger.
Jon’d had enough of watching and leant down to capture her hand.
“No more playing.” he said, his darkened eyes boring into her.
Abby looked him dead in the eye. “Jon? Fuck me.”
Jon had always known words to be erotic; hell he made a living from them, but he’d never had it used on him before.
He moved up the bed and positioned himself between her legs before plunging his cock into her hot, wet depth. Oh god, she felt so good, wrapped around him. He felt her walls pulsating slightly around him. It was so good, he wanted it to last forever.
Abby moaned aloud as he plunged into her, stretching her, filling her completely. He raised himself up onto his hands as he plunged forcefully into her, faster and faster.
“Touch yourself.” he commanded, his lust drenched eyes boring into hers.
Abby reached down and rubbed her clitoris, panting heavily as she did so. Oh god, there it was. That deliciously exquisite hot pain that built up inside her. She rubbed harder, not wanting to lose the intensity.
Jon watched as desire rippled across Abby’s features. He knew she was close and wanted her to cum before he did. He saw her eyes screw shut and reached down to join her hand.
Abby’s eyes flew open in wonder as she felt Jon’s fingers join hers. Together they pressed down hard on the little nub. Her head tipped back, her eyes shut tight as she shouted.
“Jo..o..on!”
Deep, hot pleasure rippled through her body. Her legs shook with the effort and Jon groaned loudly as he felt her internal walls clamp tight and painful around his engorged cock. He pulled out and plunged back in once more before silver heat shot through him, his balls contracted and he screamed through his orgasm.
Jon’s heart beat rapidly in his chest as he flopped down next to Abby.
“Oh my fuck. Baby, baby, baby.” he breathed heavily, sweat saturating his skin.
“Ready for round two?” Abby whispered, reaching over to plant a row of kisses along his collar bone.
He bought it for Dot as a Christmas present but then the accident had happened and he’d never got round to giving it to her. Then she’d filed for divorce and it had sat in its case in one of his bank deposit boxes ever since. The light sparkled off the impressive diamonds, little rays of rainbows danced across his handsome features. If he gave it all up he probably would never be able to afford something like this again. The band, the music, the merchandise; it would all go. The royalties would remain but the money coming in would drop drastically. He thought of Philadelphia Soul, the team he’d once part owned and all the charities he ran. The paperwork was in place to keep the charities going but his name would be removed from the company’s books. Maybe Richie was right. Maybe he should take some more time to think about it all. Trouble was, once he started thinking, her face would flash up in front of him and he would freeze, unable to think of anything other than her. He’d had counselling after the accident and knew, deep down, that it hadn’t been his fault. There’d been nothing he could’ve done to stop it but still he shouldered the guilt. It sat in his stomach, nestled like a cancer.
Jon put the necklace back into its box and put it back into the metal container, ready for it to go back into the hole in the wall. In the New Year he’d put it up for Auction. See if he could recoup some of the money he’d spent on it. He smiled ruefully, he’d not received much change from $550,000. He left the small room without a backwards glance. Time to move on. Time to change.
Abby sipped the coffee and sighed in pleasure. She and Richie had one some serious shopping and had only been to two shops. Saks and Bergdorf Goodmans. She’d put a serious dent in her credit card and was feeling wonderful. Retail therapy really worked. Richie had beaten her only in the amount he’d spent. She wondered what the limit was on his black Amex and then thought it probably didn’t have a limit. Oh how wonderful that would be. To go through life without a limit on how much you could spend. She’d treated herself to a beautiful cushion cut diamond ring and hadn’t even balked at the price of $5,000. She was desperate to wear it, having been fortunate to find one in her size, but Richie had warned her against trying it on in public. She knew she was being a bit silly and naïve but the schoolgirl in her wanted to jump up and shout with glee that she loved Jon Bon Jovi and had just spent loads of money.
Richie looked at Abby, sat across from him. She was positively glowing. Her eyes were bright and her smile was a permanent fixture. A thought hit him and he acted on it.
“Are you in love with Jon?” he asked, softly.
Abby looked at him askance.
“Why would you ask that?” she asked, stalling.
“You look like someone in love.” was his reply.
“I…erm…I think I love him, but I don’t know if I’m in love with him. What does it feel like? Being in love?” she asked, curious.
“Oh, er…” he stammered at having been caught out by his own question, then smiled, “It feels like your heart doesn’t belong to you anymore but to that special someone. Like you’re never going to be whole if they’re not by your side. The cliché I guess; you can’t eat, you can’t sleep, your whole being is focused on them and only them. You think about them constantly and it makes you smile all the time, and when they touch you…you just…melt.” he sighed, staring at a point behind her head, thinking of times past.
“Oh.” Abby said, staring at her coffee before raising her eyes to his face.
“Then I guess I am.” she finished, smiling broadly, before she faltered, “But I don’t know if he feels the same, so don’t say anything, please?” she begged, suddenly on the verge of tears.
“Wildly fluctuating emotions. Check. I’d say you are, and judging by the way I got threatened off you the other night, I’d say he was feeling pretty much the same as you, but I’ll keep schtum. Don’t worry darlin’ I won’t say anything.”
“Thank you Richie. This is all so new to me. I can’t remember ever feeling like this before so I don’t know what to do.”, Abby chuckled suddenly, “God I must be behaving like a teenager.
Richie looked at the suddenly very young looking, vulnerable woman and felt a surge of protectiveness.
“Tell him darlin’, tell him how you feel. I can only guess what you’re thinking but wouldn’t it be nice to have him tell you he feels the same way?”
Abby smiled. “You’re such a nice person Richie. Thank you.”
Richie and Abby walked back into Jon’s house and stopped dead in their tracks. Jon was playing air guitar to some band on the TV, with a bright yellow and black bandanna wrapped round his head. He was head banging and seemed really caught up in the music. His eyes were shut and he had a bright smile plastered across his face. They watched, incredulously on Richie’s part, as Jon ran and, dropping to his knees, slid across the polished wood flooring, eyes still shut tight. The sound was turned up loud and he looked so carefree and happy that neither Richie nor Abby wanted to disturb him. Both, with big smiles on their faces, tried to tip toe into the kitchen area but Abby’s handbag knocked against the coffee table, which had been moved, causing it to scrape on the hard tiled floor.
Jon heard a sound and spun around to see Abby and Richie grinning at him. He felt slightly sheepish.
“Oh, er hi.” he dropped his arms and stood, looking awkward.
“Oh man, I have seen it all now!” Richie hooted with laughter, “Jon Bon Jovi playing air guitar to some one hit wonder band.”
Jon grinned, unabashed as he caught the look in Richie’s eyes and joined in with the laughter.
Abby stood to one side, perplexed and slightly puzzled as the two men broke in peals of hysterics.
She sat down on the heavy coffee table and watched as Jon slid to floor, tears of laughter running down his face. It made her laugh to see him acting like a schoolboy, playing air guitar to his favourite bands. He’d seemed so distant that first day, that seeing him opening up, bit by bit as she got to know him, was just a wonderful feeling that spread inside her and made her heart swell with joy.
Finally the laughter subsided and Richie sat down on the sofa, intent on watching the program which was, funnily enough, about one-hit wonders from the eighties and nineties.
Jon got up off the floor and padded over to Abby.
“Hey babe,” he said, sitting down next to her, “Sorry I wasn’t around this morning but I had some papers to sign.” he planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.
Abby looked into his bright blue eyes. “That’s ok. Just don’t do it again.” she grinned, thinking of the presents she’d bought him. She just knew he’d love them and couldn’t wait for him to open them.
“So, did you have a good time shopping?” he asked softly, his shoulder, brushing gently against hers.
Abby felt a liquid warmth spread through her system. She wondered how to get him upstairs without making it too obvious.
Jon watched her eyes dilate and darken, a rosy flush began to spread across the exposed skin of her chest and neck. He heard the small hitch in her breathing and smiled…slowly and sensually.
He looked over at Richie who was engrossed in the TV program. He turned back to Abby and placing a finger across his lips, silently led her to the stairs.
“Have fun you two.” Richie’s voice rang out from the sofa.
Jon looked into Abby’s flushed face and grinned. He intended to.
Jon led her into his bedroom. She looked around the huge room. It was her first time in it. It was bare, except for a huge king sized bed that dominated the space and a few pictures, placed strategically on the white walls. It was totally the opposite of what she’d thought his room would be like.
Jon took her hand, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. Unresisting, she allowed him to lead her to the bed.
Slowly he began to caress her breasts, revelling in the softness of the cashmere sweater and the hardness of her nipples. He reached down and nipped at the tender, sweet skin on her neck, watching heat infuse the area. He slowly licked the same area until it was wet and then blew softly across it, causing goosebumps.
Abby shivered with desire as Jon began to lick and kiss her neck. Oh god it felt so good. She tried to bring her arms up around his neck and winced as her sore ribs protested.
“Hey baby, you ok?” Jon murmured as he softly squeezed her breast, thumbing the nipple through her clothing.
The pain subsided as heat rushed through her. “Mmm hmm.” she murmured as she started to overheat in the cashmere.
“Jon…help me?” she breathed, looking at him.
“With what baby?” he smirked. He’d seen the flush and could feel the heat of her skin. He turned his attention back to laving her skin, slowly working his way down to the gentle swell of her breasts, barely visible in the V neck sweater.
Abby gasped as she felt liquid heat pooling in her underwear. She reached out and began to unbutton his jersey, thankful to all the Gods that had ever existed that he had an affinity for button up jerseys. She felt the soft downy hair that covered his muscular chest and smiled to herself. The smile turned into a gasp as she felt Jon’s tongue lave her nipple. He’d pulled the hidden zip of the sweater down and pushed her bra out of the way, leaving her breasts exposed to the air and to his nimble tongue and fingers.
“Oh god.” she stammered, her head hanging back as he nibbled and licked his way around her sensitive breasts.
Jon groaned as he licked a bead of sweat from between her breasts and breathed in her scent.
“Honey, please? My jeans?” she breathed, trying to wriggle herself out of them in a futile manner.
He broke away from her, causing her to shiver in the cool air.
He smiled wickedly up at her as he took the zip of the jeans into his mouth and slowly pulled the zip down, tooth by tooth, or so it seemed to Abby who was slowly being driven insane by lust.
“Jon,” she began, trying to sound coherent, “If you don’t pull my jeans off and then bury your throbbing cock inside me and fuck me hard then I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Her jeans and underwear hit the floor, as did his. She looked at him in all his splendour and smiled broadly. He was magnificent naked and especially so with a large erection pointing in her direction. She looked at the purpling head with a drop of pre cum nestled in the tip and swallowed heavily. She wanted to taste him.
Abby wriggled down the bed until she was within reach and before Jon could do anything she reached her tongue out and tasted him.
He hissed in pleasure as he felt her wrap her hot, wet tongue around his cock, feeling silver heat shoot straight to his balls. His eyes had darkened to a smoky indigo and he looked down at her through heavy lids.
Abby drew closer to him and took him into her mouth, marvelling at the feel and taste of him. She could smell his clean yet musky masculine scent rising from him and breathed it in deeply. Slowly she moved up and down his shaft, using the flat of her tongue on the underside, feeling the vein harden.
Jon placed a hand on her head and the other on her shoulder. His breathing deepened, as she swirled her tongue all over his cock.
Short, wiry hair tickled her nose as she nibbled and licked her way around his cock, her nose pressed against the cushion of hair at the base.
He smelt as he tasted. Absolutely delicious. Musk with a hint of chocolate and vanilla.
“Baby, baby, Abby…stop, stop, stop. I’m gonna cum…” he moaned, writhing.
He pulled away from her and lay her back on the bed.
“You are so good at that.” he panted, “A bit too good.” he murmured as he looked at her, spread out before him.
Abby lay on her back, feeling the softness of the down comforter underneath her. She felt complete and content and totally wanton. Smiling up at Jon, she bent her legs and opened them.
Jon’s eyes dilated to pure black as he looked at her. His breathing quickened as she slowly reached her hand down, through the soft hair and began to slowly rub her clitoris, all the while keeping eye contact with him.
Damn if that wasn’t the most erotic thing he’d seen for a good while. He licked his lips, feeling the silver heat building up again. His cock was rock hard and he slowly palmed it, pulling the sensitive skin back over the now tender head.
Abby felt the bundle of nerves under her fingers and rubbed it lightly. She moaned low in the back of her throat as electricity swarmed out from her centre. She lay panting softly as she reached out her finger.
Jon’d had enough of watching and leant down to capture her hand.
“No more playing.” he said, his darkened eyes boring into her.
Abby looked him dead in the eye. “Jon? Fuck me.”
Jon had always known words to be erotic; hell he made a living from them, but he’d never had it used on him before.
He moved up the bed and positioned himself between her legs before plunging his cock into her hot, wet depth. Oh god, she felt so good, wrapped around him. He felt her walls pulsating slightly around him. It was so good, he wanted it to last forever.
Abby moaned aloud as he plunged into her, stretching her, filling her completely. He raised himself up onto his hands as he plunged forcefully into her, faster and faster.
“Touch yourself.” he commanded, his lust drenched eyes boring into hers.
Abby reached down and rubbed her clitoris, panting heavily as she did so. Oh god, there it was. That deliciously exquisite hot pain that built up inside her. She rubbed harder, not wanting to lose the intensity.
Jon watched as desire rippled across Abby’s features. He knew she was close and wanted her to cum before he did. He saw her eyes screw shut and reached down to join her hand.
Abby’s eyes flew open in wonder as she felt Jon’s fingers join hers. Together they pressed down hard on the little nub. Her head tipped back, her eyes shut tight as she shouted.
“Jo..o..on!”
Deep, hot pleasure rippled through her body. Her legs shook with the effort and Jon groaned loudly as he felt her internal walls clamp tight and painful around his engorged cock. He pulled out and plunged back in once more before silver heat shot through him, his balls contracted and he screamed through his orgasm.
Jon’s heart beat rapidly in his chest as he flopped down next to Abby.
“Oh my fuck. Baby, baby, baby.” he breathed heavily, sweat saturating his skin.
“Ready for round two?” Abby whispered, reaching over to plant a row of kisses along his collar bone.
Saturday, 2 January 2010
Chapter Twelve
Richie was not in a very good mood. Jon had flatly refused to change his mind about dissolving the Bon Jovi Alliance and the talk had ended in a stale mate. At one point Richie had got so angry he’d threatened a law suit which hadn’t gone down too well. Both men had gone to their respective beds angry. This wasn’t the first time they’d gone to bed angry with each other for either of them but Richie had felt that it might just be the last time if Jon did what he was threatening to do.
He picked up the envelope he’d found on the kitchen table and reread the letter.
‘Rich,
I know you’re angry with me and think I’ve gone off my head and maybe I have but when you’ve been responsible for the death of someone you love then it puts life into perspective and I don’t wanna be who I am anymore; the person I’ve turned into. Meeting Abby has made me see who I could become.
I have to go out for a couple of hours, I’ve left a credit card in Abby’s name in the envelope for her. Can you take her into Manhattan Xmas shopping? Take care of her Rich.
Jon.’
Richie blamed himself. He had seen Jon every week after the accident and hadn’t seen that Jon was slowly crumbling. Damn him! Damn his ‘keep it all inside’ attitude. Richie slumped down on the kitchen table, his head in his hands. Jon was falling apart inside and there wasn’t a damn fucking thing he could do to stop it. Dorothea hadn’t helped, slapping divorce papers onto what must have been an already fragile psyche just weeks after the accident. He laughed mirthlessly. What a fucking mess and if he was the one left to try and pick up the pieces then they were in a whole lot of trouble.
It wasn’t that Richie wasn’t capable of dealing with problems it was that he chose not to. He just didn’t want to deal with them. That was what Jon did, what Jon was best at. The CEO of the Bon Jovi Corporation while Richie was just a board member who preferred to sit back and jam.
Abby sat in front of the huge mirror and ran a comb through her curls as best she could. Her ribs were still mending and it hurt like hell to raise her arms above her head. She’d woken up alone and still wasn’t sure whether Jon had come to bed at all. She’d been living with him for a few days now and it no longer felt weird. She felt at peace, even if her memory had gone for a Burton.
She stood and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was glowing and her hair shone with health and vitality. She was surprised as it hadn’t been that long since she’d been in a forced coma. She had on black skinny leg jeans and the palest pink cashmere sweater that should’ve clashed horribly with her red hair but strangely didn’t. She had a pair of black Timberlands on her feet, her one concession to her leg injury, as she’d desperately wanted the 4inch high black strappy stiletto’s that they’d seen whilst shopping for her. She’d begged Jon for them but he’d stood fast and refused to buy them. She’d tried giving him a puppy dog look but he’d countered with his version and she’d had to admit he was far better at pouting than she’d ever be. So, she was stuck with the Timberlands and some flat black pumps until her leg was better. She thought of Jon’s face pouting in the shoe shop and felt a strange kind of fluttering inside. She was still trying to analyse it when she reached the kitchen.
“Hey Abs.”
“Hi Richie. Good Morning, how are you?” she replied, smiling, “Have you seen Jon?”
“He’s gone out.” Richie replied, sipping his fourth coffee. “He’s left some cash for you for Xmas shopping and asked me to take you into Manhattan. If you’re up for it, that is.” he said, his brown eyes twinkling.
“Oh. Yes, that would be lovely.” Abby replied, as she took a seat at the kitchen table after helping herself to a coffee.
“You ok darlin’?” Richie asked.
“Yeah, just…I thought he might say goodbye to me before leaving.”
“Ah, well, you know Jonny. When he’s got something in his head it’s hard to get anything else out of him. He’s a stubborn son of a bitch sometimes.” Richie said, with a bit more anger than he wanted to show.
“Are you two ok? Did you have an argument or something last night? I mean, I know something happened…” she trailed off, not really knowing whether to say she’d heard most of the blazing row the night before, or not.
It must’ve shown on her face and Richie suddenly looked contrite.
“Ah, I hope we didn’t keep you awake. We can get quite heated when we disagree. But it’s nothing darlin’, just something that’s been simmering for a while and should’ve been dealt with a long time ago. We’ll be fine, hell it ain’t the first time we’ve ever argued. And at least we didn’t throw things at each other this time.” he smiled.
“Throw things?” she asked, intrigued by this revealing of another side to Jon.
“Hell, yeah, the first thing Jon ever threw at me was his shittin’ guitar!. We were overwrought, all of us, at the end of the Jersey Tour and had been arguing on and off for days, weeks even. He and Dot were getting really hot and heavy and he’d disappear for hours without anyone able to get in contact with him, which meant we couldn’t practice and then one day he couldn’t speak and I thought he was putting it on a bit so I lost my temper and accused him of pulling a fast one just cause he wanted to spend more time with Dot. Next thing I know this guitar comes whizzing through the air and catches me on the back of the head. I hit the deck, out cold, ya know, and end up in A&E having stitches put in a gash on the back of my head. Turns out Jon had polyps on his vocal chords and really couldn’t speak and had been going off to visit his doctor. He hadn’t said anything as he didn’t wanna scare us all as it was touch and go for a while whether he’d be able to sing again. But he had them removed and everything was ok.”
“Oh my god, did you get a scar?”
“Oh yeah, though it’s faded by now, there’s still a little bit of a bump, just under my hairline at the back.”
“Have you thrown anything at him?” Abby asked. She was really intrigued now at the thought of grown men throwing objects at each other like toddlers in a temper tantrum.
“Er, a mug of coffee, a torch, my mobile, no make that mobiles, and…oh yeah, a cowboy boot. Tico and Dave just used to duck under whatever was there until we’d got it out of our system. Alec would just sit in the corner and shake his head, like we were kids fighting over a toy,” Richie caught a look at the apprehension on Abby’s face, “Oh hey, don’t worry Abs, we haven’t thrown anything for years, only our voices at each other.”
“That’s good to hear,” she got up to go and get her coat and turned back, a wry smile on her face, “A cowboy boot? Really?”
“Yeah, I caught Jon trying to sneak somewhere he shouldn’t have been going so I threw my boot at him. If you look closely he’s got a very small scar in his eyebrow, where it hit him.”
“Where was he trying to sneak into?” She asked, wondering.
“Sorry babe, Jovi Family rules; if you weren’t there you ain’t getting told about it.” he shrugged, palms up.
“Ok, ok. I won’t ask.” she smiled as she went to get her coat.
The drive into Manhattan was fun. Richie was a funny man to talk to and soon had Abby in peals of hysterical laughter at some of the more outrageous exploits that he and Jon had got up to in the Eighties.
The limo driver pulled up outside Saks on Fifth Avenue. Abby had taken a moment to take the card out of the envelope to put into her handbag and had gasped as she read the hand written note attached.
‘Hey babe
This card is for you. I had it put in your name and the limit is $50,000. It’s for you to do whatever with. Don’t feel you have it spend it all at once! J
Jon
Xxx
$50,000? What the hell am I going to spend fifty grand on? She thought as she shut her handbag and followed Richie out of the Limo.
They entered the opulent store and a manager, dressed in an expensive suit, or someone Abby took to be a manager, came running over.
“Mr Sambora, welcome to Saks Fifth Avenue. My name is Christian and I will be your personal shopper, if you have need of me.”
“Thanks Christian, but I think we’re fine at the moment. If I need you I‘ll wink.” Richie said, smiling at the simpering salesman.
Abby looked at the forlorn young man as they walked away from him.
“Is he not a manager?” she asked, trying to keep up with Richie’s long strides.
“Nah, he’s a personal shopper.” He replied, walking on ahead, unaware of her plight.
He headed to the watches section as he wanted to get himself a new one. Not that he needed one, no, he just wanted it.
He turned to talk to Abby to find her not there. He looked behind and spotted her a few shoppers behind him. Feeling guilty for not remembering about her leg, he turned and walked back to her. Taking her arm in his he looked at her, smiling at a man who was right behind her.
“Sorry darlin’ I forgot about your leg. Here hold onto my arm and we’ll take it slow.”
Abby smiled to herself. With that slow drawl of his, nearly everything he said came out as a sexual innuendo, whether he meant it or not. He smiled up at his open, honest and damn right sexy face and smiled… If she wasn’t with Jon… No, she shook her head. Get rid of that image, he’s Jon’s friend, hands off. Besides Jon’s the one you love.
Love.
Her eyes widened slightly as the realisation jackbooted its way into her conscious. She loved Jon. That would explain the fluttery feeling she got whenever she thought of him and the liquid heat he managed to install in her limbs whenever he touched her. With a lightness in her heart she walked slowly with Richie, over to the watches section.
-------------------------------------------
He couldn’t believe it. His Kitty Cat had just got out of a Limo in front of him. She’d looked straight at him and smiled before following a tall, dark haired man into Saks Fifth Avenue. It was a sign. She must still want him to chase her; why would she smile at him if she didn’t? He changed his route there and then and followed the couple into the department store. He walked behind them, his eyes on her only. He watched as she failed to keep up with the man and fell behind him. This was it. This was his big chance. He put on a burst of speed until he was right behind her. He could smell her perfume and one of her curls brushed against his cheek. He reached out to take her arm when the tall man appeared and beat him to it. He began to scowl when he realised the man was looking at him and smiling. He smiled back and melted back into the crowd. Anger and frustration rose in him but he smiled. He’d recognised the tall man as Richie Sambora, which meant that the blond man who’d rescued his Kitty Cat had to be Jon Bon Jovi. If Kitty cat was with Richie Sambora out shopping then it was a high probability she was staying with either him or Jon Bon Jovi. A plan was formulating as he made his way out of the packed store and into the cold, bitter air.
--------------------------------------------
Cartier Roadster XL Chronograph. Abby grinned as she looked at the watch. It was perfect for Jon. The stainless steel strap was masculine yet elegant and she just knew it would be perfect for him. She peeked at the price and her smile froze. $8575. Nearly nine thousand dollars and she bet that was without tax on top.
I guess I will be spending a lot of money today, after all, she thought as she handed over her credit card to the shop assistant who had so lovingly wrapped the watch for her, though Abby was sure that was more for Richie’s benefit as she watched the tall blond woman lean over the counter, lower than was necessary, just in order to show a little more cleavage. Abby took a quick peek at Richie. Yup, he’d seen and was enjoying the show.
Abby coughed, discreetly. Richie broke off from his cleavage show and looked at her. She raised an eyebrow to show she’d seen and he had the grace to look chagrined. At least, a little.
The assistant had finished whatever it was she was doing with the credit card and Abby entered the pin number she’d been given. A few moments later and she was standing holding the most expensive item she’d ever purchased. She was sure of it. Somehow spending all that money on one small item had seemed, for a few moments, incredibly decadent.
She put the card back in her handbag and waited as Richie concluded his purchase, which seemed to include the assistants phone number.
“Richie, you really are incorrigible.” she said, as he linked his arm in hers and led her to the jewellery section.
He picked up the envelope he’d found on the kitchen table and reread the letter.
‘Rich,
I know you’re angry with me and think I’ve gone off my head and maybe I have but when you’ve been responsible for the death of someone you love then it puts life into perspective and I don’t wanna be who I am anymore; the person I’ve turned into. Meeting Abby has made me see who I could become.
I have to go out for a couple of hours, I’ve left a credit card in Abby’s name in the envelope for her. Can you take her into Manhattan Xmas shopping? Take care of her Rich.
Jon.’
Richie blamed himself. He had seen Jon every week after the accident and hadn’t seen that Jon was slowly crumbling. Damn him! Damn his ‘keep it all inside’ attitude. Richie slumped down on the kitchen table, his head in his hands. Jon was falling apart inside and there wasn’t a damn fucking thing he could do to stop it. Dorothea hadn’t helped, slapping divorce papers onto what must have been an already fragile psyche just weeks after the accident. He laughed mirthlessly. What a fucking mess and if he was the one left to try and pick up the pieces then they were in a whole lot of trouble.
It wasn’t that Richie wasn’t capable of dealing with problems it was that he chose not to. He just didn’t want to deal with them. That was what Jon did, what Jon was best at. The CEO of the Bon Jovi Corporation while Richie was just a board member who preferred to sit back and jam.
Abby sat in front of the huge mirror and ran a comb through her curls as best she could. Her ribs were still mending and it hurt like hell to raise her arms above her head. She’d woken up alone and still wasn’t sure whether Jon had come to bed at all. She’d been living with him for a few days now and it no longer felt weird. She felt at peace, even if her memory had gone for a Burton.
She stood and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was glowing and her hair shone with health and vitality. She was surprised as it hadn’t been that long since she’d been in a forced coma. She had on black skinny leg jeans and the palest pink cashmere sweater that should’ve clashed horribly with her red hair but strangely didn’t. She had a pair of black Timberlands on her feet, her one concession to her leg injury, as she’d desperately wanted the 4inch high black strappy stiletto’s that they’d seen whilst shopping for her. She’d begged Jon for them but he’d stood fast and refused to buy them. She’d tried giving him a puppy dog look but he’d countered with his version and she’d had to admit he was far better at pouting than she’d ever be. So, she was stuck with the Timberlands and some flat black pumps until her leg was better. She thought of Jon’s face pouting in the shoe shop and felt a strange kind of fluttering inside. She was still trying to analyse it when she reached the kitchen.
“Hey Abs.”
“Hi Richie. Good Morning, how are you?” she replied, smiling, “Have you seen Jon?”
“He’s gone out.” Richie replied, sipping his fourth coffee. “He’s left some cash for you for Xmas shopping and asked me to take you into Manhattan. If you’re up for it, that is.” he said, his brown eyes twinkling.
“Oh. Yes, that would be lovely.” Abby replied, as she took a seat at the kitchen table after helping herself to a coffee.
“You ok darlin’?” Richie asked.
“Yeah, just…I thought he might say goodbye to me before leaving.”
“Ah, well, you know Jonny. When he’s got something in his head it’s hard to get anything else out of him. He’s a stubborn son of a bitch sometimes.” Richie said, with a bit more anger than he wanted to show.
“Are you two ok? Did you have an argument or something last night? I mean, I know something happened…” she trailed off, not really knowing whether to say she’d heard most of the blazing row the night before, or not.
It must’ve shown on her face and Richie suddenly looked contrite.
“Ah, I hope we didn’t keep you awake. We can get quite heated when we disagree. But it’s nothing darlin’, just something that’s been simmering for a while and should’ve been dealt with a long time ago. We’ll be fine, hell it ain’t the first time we’ve ever argued. And at least we didn’t throw things at each other this time.” he smiled.
“Throw things?” she asked, intrigued by this revealing of another side to Jon.
“Hell, yeah, the first thing Jon ever threw at me was his shittin’ guitar!. We were overwrought, all of us, at the end of the Jersey Tour and had been arguing on and off for days, weeks even. He and Dot were getting really hot and heavy and he’d disappear for hours without anyone able to get in contact with him, which meant we couldn’t practice and then one day he couldn’t speak and I thought he was putting it on a bit so I lost my temper and accused him of pulling a fast one just cause he wanted to spend more time with Dot. Next thing I know this guitar comes whizzing through the air and catches me on the back of the head. I hit the deck, out cold, ya know, and end up in A&E having stitches put in a gash on the back of my head. Turns out Jon had polyps on his vocal chords and really couldn’t speak and had been going off to visit his doctor. He hadn’t said anything as he didn’t wanna scare us all as it was touch and go for a while whether he’d be able to sing again. But he had them removed and everything was ok.”
“Oh my god, did you get a scar?”
“Oh yeah, though it’s faded by now, there’s still a little bit of a bump, just under my hairline at the back.”
“Have you thrown anything at him?” Abby asked. She was really intrigued now at the thought of grown men throwing objects at each other like toddlers in a temper tantrum.
“Er, a mug of coffee, a torch, my mobile, no make that mobiles, and…oh yeah, a cowboy boot. Tico and Dave just used to duck under whatever was there until we’d got it out of our system. Alec would just sit in the corner and shake his head, like we were kids fighting over a toy,” Richie caught a look at the apprehension on Abby’s face, “Oh hey, don’t worry Abs, we haven’t thrown anything for years, only our voices at each other.”
“That’s good to hear,” she got up to go and get her coat and turned back, a wry smile on her face, “A cowboy boot? Really?”
“Yeah, I caught Jon trying to sneak somewhere he shouldn’t have been going so I threw my boot at him. If you look closely he’s got a very small scar in his eyebrow, where it hit him.”
“Where was he trying to sneak into?” She asked, wondering.
“Sorry babe, Jovi Family rules; if you weren’t there you ain’t getting told about it.” he shrugged, palms up.
“Ok, ok. I won’t ask.” she smiled as she went to get her coat.
The drive into Manhattan was fun. Richie was a funny man to talk to and soon had Abby in peals of hysterical laughter at some of the more outrageous exploits that he and Jon had got up to in the Eighties.
The limo driver pulled up outside Saks on Fifth Avenue. Abby had taken a moment to take the card out of the envelope to put into her handbag and had gasped as she read the hand written note attached.
‘Hey babe
This card is for you. I had it put in your name and the limit is $50,000. It’s for you to do whatever with. Don’t feel you have it spend it all at once! J
Jon
Xxx
$50,000? What the hell am I going to spend fifty grand on? She thought as she shut her handbag and followed Richie out of the Limo.
They entered the opulent store and a manager, dressed in an expensive suit, or someone Abby took to be a manager, came running over.
“Mr Sambora, welcome to Saks Fifth Avenue. My name is Christian and I will be your personal shopper, if you have need of me.”
“Thanks Christian, but I think we’re fine at the moment. If I need you I‘ll wink.” Richie said, smiling at the simpering salesman.
Abby looked at the forlorn young man as they walked away from him.
“Is he not a manager?” she asked, trying to keep up with Richie’s long strides.
“Nah, he’s a personal shopper.” He replied, walking on ahead, unaware of her plight.
He headed to the watches section as he wanted to get himself a new one. Not that he needed one, no, he just wanted it.
He turned to talk to Abby to find her not there. He looked behind and spotted her a few shoppers behind him. Feeling guilty for not remembering about her leg, he turned and walked back to her. Taking her arm in his he looked at her, smiling at a man who was right behind her.
“Sorry darlin’ I forgot about your leg. Here hold onto my arm and we’ll take it slow.”
Abby smiled to herself. With that slow drawl of his, nearly everything he said came out as a sexual innuendo, whether he meant it or not. He smiled up at his open, honest and damn right sexy face and smiled… If she wasn’t with Jon… No, she shook her head. Get rid of that image, he’s Jon’s friend, hands off. Besides Jon’s the one you love.
Love.
Her eyes widened slightly as the realisation jackbooted its way into her conscious. She loved Jon. That would explain the fluttery feeling she got whenever she thought of him and the liquid heat he managed to install in her limbs whenever he touched her. With a lightness in her heart she walked slowly with Richie, over to the watches section.
-------------------------------------------
He couldn’t believe it. His Kitty Cat had just got out of a Limo in front of him. She’d looked straight at him and smiled before following a tall, dark haired man into Saks Fifth Avenue. It was a sign. She must still want him to chase her; why would she smile at him if she didn’t? He changed his route there and then and followed the couple into the department store. He walked behind them, his eyes on her only. He watched as she failed to keep up with the man and fell behind him. This was it. This was his big chance. He put on a burst of speed until he was right behind her. He could smell her perfume and one of her curls brushed against his cheek. He reached out to take her arm when the tall man appeared and beat him to it. He began to scowl when he realised the man was looking at him and smiling. He smiled back and melted back into the crowd. Anger and frustration rose in him but he smiled. He’d recognised the tall man as Richie Sambora, which meant that the blond man who’d rescued his Kitty Cat had to be Jon Bon Jovi. If Kitty cat was with Richie Sambora out shopping then it was a high probability she was staying with either him or Jon Bon Jovi. A plan was formulating as he made his way out of the packed store and into the cold, bitter air.
--------------------------------------------
Cartier Roadster XL Chronograph. Abby grinned as she looked at the watch. It was perfect for Jon. The stainless steel strap was masculine yet elegant and she just knew it would be perfect for him. She peeked at the price and her smile froze. $8575. Nearly nine thousand dollars and she bet that was without tax on top.
I guess I will be spending a lot of money today, after all, she thought as she handed over her credit card to the shop assistant who had so lovingly wrapped the watch for her, though Abby was sure that was more for Richie’s benefit as she watched the tall blond woman lean over the counter, lower than was necessary, just in order to show a little more cleavage. Abby took a quick peek at Richie. Yup, he’d seen and was enjoying the show.
Abby coughed, discreetly. Richie broke off from his cleavage show and looked at her. She raised an eyebrow to show she’d seen and he had the grace to look chagrined. At least, a little.
The assistant had finished whatever it was she was doing with the credit card and Abby entered the pin number she’d been given. A few moments later and she was standing holding the most expensive item she’d ever purchased. She was sure of it. Somehow spending all that money on one small item had seemed, for a few moments, incredibly decadent.
She put the card back in her handbag and waited as Richie concluded his purchase, which seemed to include the assistants phone number.
“Richie, you really are incorrigible.” she said, as he linked his arm in hers and led her to the jewellery section.
Tuesday, 29 December 2009
Chapter Eleven
Detective Sutton picked up a book that was on the bedside table and shook it. Nothing drifted out of it. He had managed to get Miss Riley’s home address from Steve Hallitt and he and Detective Graves had gone to the small but neat apartment to search it. CSI would only be called in if it was an obvious scene of crime.
The place was small, even by Manhattan standards, but it was extremely tidy. Too tidy. Luke had always distrusted tidy people. They had way too much time on their hands if they could tidy up all the time. Whoever Jenna Riley was she was obviously a neat freak. Obsessively neat. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Even the tea towels were ironed and put away in a drawer. Luke thought of his place with damp washing hung up wherever there was space and the remains of last nights dinner still in bowls dotted around the floor and smiled wryly. If he ever found this Jenna Riley he was going to ask her the secret to being tidy, that was for sure.
He looked up from where he was sat, on the edge of the double bed that dominated the small bedroom, to see Graves walk in from the tiny en suite bathroom that constituted the apartments only bathroom.
“Anything in there?” Luke asked.
Graves shook his head, blonde hair flopping in his face, “Nah, just the usual toiletries and shit. Though one thing’s odd, everything’s in alphabetical order in the medicine cabinet and even her dirty laundry’s all folded up neatly in the laundry bin. She’s a freak man.”
“Just ‘cause you’re a slob.” Luke muttered, smiling, knowing he was just as bad, if not worse, than Graves.
“So, whatever happened to her didn’t happen here. Have you checked the kitchen? Listen Graves, you go back to the precinct and start the report. I‘ll finish up in here, ok?” Luke said as he headed out of the tiny bedroom into the kitchen/diner/lounge area.
“Er.” Graves managed as Luke started to open cupboards. Every single cupboard was filled; tins that were lined up alphabetically, packets that were in date order and so on. The fridge was clean and smelled fresh. Luke was a little surprised at the fresh smell seeing as she had been missing for a while but realised it was because all the contents were neatly packaged into plastic boxes with the contents and use by dates hand written neatly onto small labels. Even the eggs had felt tip dates on them. He checked the freezer and found the same set up.
All her bills were neatly tidied away in an A-Z divider, which sat on the small, yellow topped kitchen table. It was an old 1950’s Formica topped table with metal fold away legs and leant the room a sunny feel.
Luke walked around the waist high divider and into the lounge area. Again it was neat and tidy. Sunlight streamed through the window highlighting a patch of beige carpet and illuminating sparkling white paint work. Even after having been uninhabited for a few weeks there was very little dust. Luke sat down on a small two seater sofa and looked around the neat but clinical room. There was nothing personal about the room at all; no paintings on the walls, no photos of loved ones, no ornaments at all.
It was the room of someone who was completely in control of everything she did, even to the point of controlling her own emotions. Someone cold and hard and shut down. Someone who could quite easily walk away from her life if she wanted to and the complete antithesis of what Miss Riley did for a living. Luke thought about her job for a moment. Rock Music Journalist.
Rock Music - the idiom of passion. He thought of the people she worked with. Every single one of them was passionate about his or her job, the music, the way of life, the style and fashion. He realised he hadn’t checked the wardrobe was heading back to the bedroom when something caught his eye. It was bright blue and red and was peeping out from under the sofa. The sun had gone in and in the gloom the bright primary colours stuck out like a sore thumb. He got down onto the floor and managed to prise it out. It was a Domino’s Pizza box. He opened it. It was empty but there was a lingering but very faint smell of grease and melted cheese.
In the clinical but well cared for apartment it was about as likely to belong there as a pork chop at a Bar Mitzvah. Luke was beginning to smell something and it wasn’t just the rank grease from the stained cardboard.
-----------------------------------------
He stood and watched as a CSI team entered the apartment block where Miss Kitty had lived. He cursed himself as he thought about his carelessness. He had forgotten the pizza box. He’d been so very careful with all of her belongings though. They wouldn’t find a single drop of him. Anywhere.
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Abby stretched out as Jon joined her back on the sofa. Outside the sky had begun to darken and fat flakes of snow drifted lazily to the ground. Abby had lit the freestanding gas fire that stood off to one corner of the room, making the room warm and cosy.
“Everything ok?” she asked as he snuggled up to her, laying his head on her shoulder, his arm snaking gently around her waist, careful of her sore ribs.
“Yup. Everything is good.” he answered, clipped. He breathed in the scent from her shampoo and pressed a kiss against her neck.
Abby smiled as she felt the weight of him leaning on her. She felt safe with Jon around. She kissed the top of his head, lifting her arm gingerly to allow him to snuggle up closer. She draped her arm around his shoulder and idly ran her fingernails along his scalp, marvelling at the thick heavy hair as it slipped through her fingers like silk.
“Richie’s nice isn’t he? He‘s such a flirt, how does his girlfriend put up with it?” she asked, feeling him breathing against her neck, causing her skin to break out in goosebumps.
Jon smiled, his lips resting against her neck. He moved his arm leisurely until his hand was cupping her breast. He could feel the nipple stiffen as he ran his fingertip across it lightly, feeling the puckered skin under her clothes
She breathed in deeply, her stomach doing somersaults. The shower they’d shared had been wonderful but not nearly enough. She wanted to feel his touch on her and inside her to make her feel real. Having holes in her memory made her feel not quite human and she had found, after the shower, that she just craved his touch.
Jon released her and with a practiced move, removed her top in one swift move. He threw it behind them where it landed none to elegantly in a heap by the bottom of the stairs. It had been quite a throw and if he was throwing the discus that far he’d have made the Olympic team. As it was, it was a different kind of gold he was going for.
He bent his head to her breast, licking at the erect nipple through the satin of her bra.
Abby moaned, feeling her pussy grow wet. She reached out blindly and began to pull at the hem of his cable knit jersey. She began to get frustrated as she couldn’t seem to get it off him, not realising it was because his arms were around her waist. Finally Jon sat back and soon the jersey joined her top, and after that her bra joined the sad little pile of discarded clothing…
Jon gazed down at Abby. She was lying naked on a pile of soft, fluffy white cushions that he’d spread out on the sofa, her hair lay fanned out, the red was like so much blood in the snow against the white of the cushions. It was dark outside and the only illumination came from the soft orange glow of the gas fire, which cast long shadows across them both.
Jon thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Abby knew she’d never seen anything so beautiful as she gazed back at him.
With a smile she urged him into her as she pulled him back down to kiss him hard and long.
Abby gasped into his mouth as she felt the tip of him enter and stretch her. His magic was in his girth and boy did he know how to use it. Little by little he pushed his way into her, stretching her into a sense of delicious pain.
She whimpered as he inched his way in until he was fully sheathed in her body.
“You ok baby?” he whispered, grinning devilishly in the firelight, his full, lush lips, curved in a wicked smile.
“Oh god yes.” was her breathy reply, before she moaned as he slowly pulled himself out until the tip of his dick remained inside.
Oh god she felt good he thought as he rammed into her, wanting nothing more than to lose himself inside her. Dimly he heard a noise behind him but he was too lost in Abby to care.
Her back arching off the sofa, Abby was lost in a sea of sensations and feelings and knew she was about to be flung over the abyss once more. She could fell the heat and warmth, for they were two different sensations, of Jon as he plunged in and out of her. Curious little sensations took up residence in her brain; the feel of his balls slapping against the curve of her butt, a drop of sweat falling from his forehead onto her cheek, a pulsing vein in his forearm as he took all his weight off her. Inconsequential by themselves but so important all together. Finally the pressure that had built became too much and she found herself screaming as she tipped over into the dark abyss followed shortly by Jon.
Abby woke up to find herself, wrapped in a faux fur throw on the sofa. Jon was standing, fully dressed, by the window, watching the snow settling out in the grounds. Faint lights in the distance winked on and off as boats made their way over the stormy, treacherous Atlantic. Sometime passed the gentle drifting snow had developed into a raging blizzard.
“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, as, wrapping the throw around her, she made her way over to where he stood before snuggling into his warm embrace.
“Not long, ten, fifteen minutes at the most. I hadda get dressed in case Richie came down.” he explained as she looked at his clothing.
“Oh shit.” she exclaimed, “Richie. Oh god, I didn’t even think of him.”
“You can say that again darlin’.”
Abby groaned as his caramel molasses voice rang out from behind her. She turned, still encased in Jon’s grip, to see the tall man walking towards them.
“Ain’t even gonna ask if you’re naked under that, cause I know y’are.” he winked as he came closer.
“What?” she asked, puzzled, turning to look at him.
“Clothes. They’re still in the hallway. ‘Sides, I reckon they could hear you two all the way back in Manhattan.” he laughed, his eyes twinkling good naturedly as she blushed a bright pillar box red.
Abby looked up at Jon who was trying not to laugh.
“It’s all right for you two. You’ve done things like this before, probably in the same room, possibly to the same woman!” she said dryly, smiling wildly, to show she could take a joke, “But if you’ll excuse me I need to go and get changed.” She rose on her tip toes to kiss Jon, who took advantage of her nakedness to squeeze a breast as she did so.
Richie stood watching the lovers. They looked so good together he really hoped that Jon wasn’t going to let his natural ability to fuck things up when in a relationship get in the way. Abby squealed slightly, then giggled softly as Jon whispered something in her ear. Blushing slightly she pulled the wrap tighter and smiling up at Richie as she passed him, went upstairs to change. Richie smiled broadly as he walked towards his best friend and soul mate. Who says soul mates have to be either the opposite sex or for a sexual union? Richie knew Jon was his soul mate. His was the longest relationship Richie’d ever had.
“So you wanna get me some food? And then we need to talk.”
The place was small, even by Manhattan standards, but it was extremely tidy. Too tidy. Luke had always distrusted tidy people. They had way too much time on their hands if they could tidy up all the time. Whoever Jenna Riley was she was obviously a neat freak. Obsessively neat. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Even the tea towels were ironed and put away in a drawer. Luke thought of his place with damp washing hung up wherever there was space and the remains of last nights dinner still in bowls dotted around the floor and smiled wryly. If he ever found this Jenna Riley he was going to ask her the secret to being tidy, that was for sure.
He looked up from where he was sat, on the edge of the double bed that dominated the small bedroom, to see Graves walk in from the tiny en suite bathroom that constituted the apartments only bathroom.
“Anything in there?” Luke asked.
Graves shook his head, blonde hair flopping in his face, “Nah, just the usual toiletries and shit. Though one thing’s odd, everything’s in alphabetical order in the medicine cabinet and even her dirty laundry’s all folded up neatly in the laundry bin. She’s a freak man.”
“Just ‘cause you’re a slob.” Luke muttered, smiling, knowing he was just as bad, if not worse, than Graves.
“So, whatever happened to her didn’t happen here. Have you checked the kitchen? Listen Graves, you go back to the precinct and start the report. I‘ll finish up in here, ok?” Luke said as he headed out of the tiny bedroom into the kitchen/diner/lounge area.
“Er.” Graves managed as Luke started to open cupboards. Every single cupboard was filled; tins that were lined up alphabetically, packets that were in date order and so on. The fridge was clean and smelled fresh. Luke was a little surprised at the fresh smell seeing as she had been missing for a while but realised it was because all the contents were neatly packaged into plastic boxes with the contents and use by dates hand written neatly onto small labels. Even the eggs had felt tip dates on them. He checked the freezer and found the same set up.
All her bills were neatly tidied away in an A-Z divider, which sat on the small, yellow topped kitchen table. It was an old 1950’s Formica topped table with metal fold away legs and leant the room a sunny feel.
Luke walked around the waist high divider and into the lounge area. Again it was neat and tidy. Sunlight streamed through the window highlighting a patch of beige carpet and illuminating sparkling white paint work. Even after having been uninhabited for a few weeks there was very little dust. Luke sat down on a small two seater sofa and looked around the neat but clinical room. There was nothing personal about the room at all; no paintings on the walls, no photos of loved ones, no ornaments at all.
It was the room of someone who was completely in control of everything she did, even to the point of controlling her own emotions. Someone cold and hard and shut down. Someone who could quite easily walk away from her life if she wanted to and the complete antithesis of what Miss Riley did for a living. Luke thought about her job for a moment. Rock Music Journalist.
Rock Music - the idiom of passion. He thought of the people she worked with. Every single one of them was passionate about his or her job, the music, the way of life, the style and fashion. He realised he hadn’t checked the wardrobe was heading back to the bedroom when something caught his eye. It was bright blue and red and was peeping out from under the sofa. The sun had gone in and in the gloom the bright primary colours stuck out like a sore thumb. He got down onto the floor and managed to prise it out. It was a Domino’s Pizza box. He opened it. It was empty but there was a lingering but very faint smell of grease and melted cheese.
In the clinical but well cared for apartment it was about as likely to belong there as a pork chop at a Bar Mitzvah. Luke was beginning to smell something and it wasn’t just the rank grease from the stained cardboard.
-----------------------------------------
He stood and watched as a CSI team entered the apartment block where Miss Kitty had lived. He cursed himself as he thought about his carelessness. He had forgotten the pizza box. He’d been so very careful with all of her belongings though. They wouldn’t find a single drop of him. Anywhere.
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Abby stretched out as Jon joined her back on the sofa. Outside the sky had begun to darken and fat flakes of snow drifted lazily to the ground. Abby had lit the freestanding gas fire that stood off to one corner of the room, making the room warm and cosy.
“Everything ok?” she asked as he snuggled up to her, laying his head on her shoulder, his arm snaking gently around her waist, careful of her sore ribs.
“Yup. Everything is good.” he answered, clipped. He breathed in the scent from her shampoo and pressed a kiss against her neck.
Abby smiled as she felt the weight of him leaning on her. She felt safe with Jon around. She kissed the top of his head, lifting her arm gingerly to allow him to snuggle up closer. She draped her arm around his shoulder and idly ran her fingernails along his scalp, marvelling at the thick heavy hair as it slipped through her fingers like silk.
“Richie’s nice isn’t he? He‘s such a flirt, how does his girlfriend put up with it?” she asked, feeling him breathing against her neck, causing her skin to break out in goosebumps.
Jon smiled, his lips resting against her neck. He moved his arm leisurely until his hand was cupping her breast. He could feel the nipple stiffen as he ran his fingertip across it lightly, feeling the puckered skin under her clothes
She breathed in deeply, her stomach doing somersaults. The shower they’d shared had been wonderful but not nearly enough. She wanted to feel his touch on her and inside her to make her feel real. Having holes in her memory made her feel not quite human and she had found, after the shower, that she just craved his touch.
Jon released her and with a practiced move, removed her top in one swift move. He threw it behind them where it landed none to elegantly in a heap by the bottom of the stairs. It had been quite a throw and if he was throwing the discus that far he’d have made the Olympic team. As it was, it was a different kind of gold he was going for.
He bent his head to her breast, licking at the erect nipple through the satin of her bra.
Abby moaned, feeling her pussy grow wet. She reached out blindly and began to pull at the hem of his cable knit jersey. She began to get frustrated as she couldn’t seem to get it off him, not realising it was because his arms were around her waist. Finally Jon sat back and soon the jersey joined her top, and after that her bra joined the sad little pile of discarded clothing…
Jon gazed down at Abby. She was lying naked on a pile of soft, fluffy white cushions that he’d spread out on the sofa, her hair lay fanned out, the red was like so much blood in the snow against the white of the cushions. It was dark outside and the only illumination came from the soft orange glow of the gas fire, which cast long shadows across them both.
Jon thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Abby knew she’d never seen anything so beautiful as she gazed back at him.
With a smile she urged him into her as she pulled him back down to kiss him hard and long.
Abby gasped into his mouth as she felt the tip of him enter and stretch her. His magic was in his girth and boy did he know how to use it. Little by little he pushed his way into her, stretching her into a sense of delicious pain.
She whimpered as he inched his way in until he was fully sheathed in her body.
“You ok baby?” he whispered, grinning devilishly in the firelight, his full, lush lips, curved in a wicked smile.
“Oh god yes.” was her breathy reply, before she moaned as he slowly pulled himself out until the tip of his dick remained inside.
Oh god she felt good he thought as he rammed into her, wanting nothing more than to lose himself inside her. Dimly he heard a noise behind him but he was too lost in Abby to care.
Her back arching off the sofa, Abby was lost in a sea of sensations and feelings and knew she was about to be flung over the abyss once more. She could fell the heat and warmth, for they were two different sensations, of Jon as he plunged in and out of her. Curious little sensations took up residence in her brain; the feel of his balls slapping against the curve of her butt, a drop of sweat falling from his forehead onto her cheek, a pulsing vein in his forearm as he took all his weight off her. Inconsequential by themselves but so important all together. Finally the pressure that had built became too much and she found herself screaming as she tipped over into the dark abyss followed shortly by Jon.
Abby woke up to find herself, wrapped in a faux fur throw on the sofa. Jon was standing, fully dressed, by the window, watching the snow settling out in the grounds. Faint lights in the distance winked on and off as boats made their way over the stormy, treacherous Atlantic. Sometime passed the gentle drifting snow had developed into a raging blizzard.
“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, as, wrapping the throw around her, she made her way over to where he stood before snuggling into his warm embrace.
“Not long, ten, fifteen minutes at the most. I hadda get dressed in case Richie came down.” he explained as she looked at his clothing.
“Oh shit.” she exclaimed, “Richie. Oh god, I didn’t even think of him.”
“You can say that again darlin’.”
Abby groaned as his caramel molasses voice rang out from behind her. She turned, still encased in Jon’s grip, to see the tall man walking towards them.
“Ain’t even gonna ask if you’re naked under that, cause I know y’are.” he winked as he came closer.
“What?” she asked, puzzled, turning to look at him.
“Clothes. They’re still in the hallway. ‘Sides, I reckon they could hear you two all the way back in Manhattan.” he laughed, his eyes twinkling good naturedly as she blushed a bright pillar box red.
Abby looked up at Jon who was trying not to laugh.
“It’s all right for you two. You’ve done things like this before, probably in the same room, possibly to the same woman!” she said dryly, smiling wildly, to show she could take a joke, “But if you’ll excuse me I need to go and get changed.” She rose on her tip toes to kiss Jon, who took advantage of her nakedness to squeeze a breast as she did so.
Richie stood watching the lovers. They looked so good together he really hoped that Jon wasn’t going to let his natural ability to fuck things up when in a relationship get in the way. Abby squealed slightly, then giggled softly as Jon whispered something in her ear. Blushing slightly she pulled the wrap tighter and smiling up at Richie as she passed him, went upstairs to change. Richie smiled broadly as he walked towards his best friend and soul mate. Who says soul mates have to be either the opposite sex or for a sexual union? Richie knew Jon was his soul mate. His was the longest relationship Richie’d ever had.
“So you wanna get me some food? And then we need to talk.”
Monday, 28 December 2009
Chapter Ten
Abby sighed in delicious pleasure. Her leg was out of plaster and, providing she took it easy for a few days, there was no need to use the crutches. Christmas was a week away and she had no idea what to do about getting Jon a present. It wasn’t like she had any money at the moment and she felt embarrassed at asking him for a loan to buy a present from him. Jon had gone out for a few hours to pick someone up from the airport. Abby’d been half asleep when he’d left and hadn’t really listened to what he’d said.
She flicked through what seemed like a hundred channels on the massive Plasma TV, smiling like a child. She couldn’t believe there were so many channels to choose from. She could only remember there being four back home and it always seemed to her that there was nothing on any of them. The smile slipped slightly as she continued to flick through numerous adverts and really bad programmes. Maybe nothing had changed. There still didn’t seem to be anything on the TV. As she idly flicked something caught her eye and she hurriedly flicked back to be confronted by Jon, complete with bandana, prancing about a stage, singing into a microphone with scarves tied to it. She turned the volume up and smiled, in spite of herself, as the lyrics to ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ blasted through.
She smiled as she thought back to the previous evening. After the wonderful shower she and Jon’d shared, he’d taken it upon himself to introduce her to the Bon Jovi family.
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“And this was taken in Moscow. You see the look on Richie’s face? Slightly shocked yeah? He’d just realised that the girl he’d been screwing the night before was married and that her husband was the KGB officer stood next to him in the photo. Thankfully for him, she kept quiet about it, which was good for us, as I’d hate to think what coulda happened ya know?” Jon chuckled as long buried memories bubbled up and broke the surface.
Abby laughed at the thought of Richie and the KGB Officer’s wife. Jon had played a selection of songs to her from all the albums earlier that day. She’d found them melodic, truthful and catchy. Some had made her want to head bang along, some were downright silly, like ‘99 in the shade’, and a few had made her cry, like ‘Make a memory’. One, in particular had made her smile. ‘You had me from hello’ seemed almost prophetic.
--------------------------------------------------
She lounged back, letting the familiar yet new strains of the song wash over her. Richie was playing his solo with what looked like a loo brush sitting on his head, Abby giggled to herself as she took in the supposed fashions that were all the rage in the 80’s. The programme seemed to be a look back to the 80’s and she was rewarded when the next video flashed up to reveal Simon Le Bon stalking through the jungles of Sri Lanka ‘Hungry like a Wolf’. Abby’s jaw hung open as she watched the object of many a teenage fantasy turn his bright blue eyes to her and sing. Another pair of blue eyes entered her consciousness and she found herself, not enjoying the trip down memory lane, but comparing the two men and finding that the ice blue eyes she’d come to know over the past few days were much sexier than Simon’s ever had been. She was so lost in her mental comparison she jumped when she felt a feather light kiss on her head and hands on her shoulders.
“Hey babe.” Jon said, looking up to the TV, “Mmm, you must be in heaven.” he murmured as Simon and the boys lounged and played on the beach.
“Shit Jon, this place is even bigger than I remember.” a deep, caramel laced voice rang out from behind them.
Abby watched as a tall, dark haired, broad shouldered man came into her view and sat down on the sofa next to her. Kind, yet devilish brown eyes fixed their gaze upon her. Abby had to hold back a giggle for the lost loo brush as she took in the short haircut.
“Hi, you must be Abby. Jon’s told me nothing about you.” the man said, taking her hand and pressing a warm kiss on her pulse point.
“Richie, down boy.” Jon said, smiling, yet his eyes were tight.
“Abby, meet Richie. Richie, meet Abby, and hands off.” the warning was there for those that would listen.
Richie raised an eyebrow. Last time he’d heard that tone was when he’d been introduced to Dot and had, inadvertently, flirted with her.
Abby smiled at Richie, who waggled his eyebrows back at her. He was a devastatingly sexy man, who wore his sexuality like a war medal; with pride.
“Hi, nice to meet you. Like the hair.” she blurted, unable to hold in the peal of laughter that had been dangerously close to the surface.
“Did I miss something?” Richie asked, smiling. He always smiled when an attractive woman laughed. As long as she was looking at him he didn’t care if he was butt of the joke or not. Make ‘em laugh and you’re halfway there.
“We were looking through old photo’s yesterday.” Jon explained, leaning on the back on the sofa, his fingers playing softly yet possessively with errant curls of Abby’s hair.
“Oh, did he show the one in Moscow? Christ I nearly shit myself when Kat turned up with her husband. Fuckin’ KGB! I thought I was dead for sure, ‘specially as he was armed with a fuckin’ Uzi. Jeez, I had to go change my shorts!” Richie laughed, good naturedly.
Jon laughed as another memory surfaced.
“Turned out all he wanted was a fuckin’ autograph. Still not sure what the fuck I wrote on that photo. Could’ve been Mickey fuckin’ Mouse for all I know. All I know is I was out of there like a shot after that photo was taken. Headed back to the hotel and stayed there for the rest of the tour.”
“You still didn’t learn anything from that though, did ya, prick.” Jon bantered.
“You can talk, Mr ‘I’ll screw anything with a zip code’.” Richie countered, smiling.
“Fuck you man.” Jon shot back.
Abby sat, in amazement, watching and listening to the banter between the two men. It was obvious they were as close as two people could get without being one. It was fascinating to watch the interaction and ease between them.
Jon squeezed himself onto the sofa between Richie and Abby. He trusted Richie with his life, but knew him too well to trust him with his woman. At least, sometimes.
Richie raised an eyebrow as Jon’s butt came to close for comfort as he settled onto the sofa and grinned to himself. Oh man, Jonny had it bad for this one and he, for one, wasn’t gonna let him get away with it.
“So Abby, are you happy with this reprobate? Cause I’m happy to take over if you’re not.”
Abby laughed, linking her arm though Jon’s as she replied.
“I’m happy, very happy, and if he’s a reprobate then let me be damned too.” she smiled.
Richie looked at Jon who had turned to look at him and froze for a second as pure unadulterated anger flashed across his face for a split second. Richie’s eyes widened, then he recovered his stance.
“Ah Abs, you don’t know what you’re missing darlin’” but his heart wasn’t in it.
Making a show of it, he stretched, hearing his joints crack and pop.
“Well folks, I am shattered. Guess my age is catching up with me as flying ain’t that fun anymore. ‘Specially flying commercial. Jon, you wanna show me which room I’m in?” Richie got up and stood, smiling to hide the hurt.
“Yeah sure.” he mumbled, pressing a kiss on Abby’s temples, before getting up and walking, stiff shouldered out of the room.
Abby turned back to the marathon ‘return to the 80’s’ on the TV and was soon immersed in memories of Cyndi Lauper and ‘Girls wanna have fun’.
Richie picked his overnight case up and followed Jon up the wooden staircase. He walked along the wood and glass bridge until they were both out of sight of Abby. He was angry; no, scratch that, he was furious.
He waited until Jon opened the door of the spacious guest room to say something.
“I’ll say this and say it once so you listen to me. It’s only because of what you’ve gone through over the past few months that I haven’t ripped you a new asshole. You ever look at me like that again and I will walk. I don’t need the work, you get me?” Richie’s voice was low and quiet, always a bad sign coming from such an exuberant person.
Jon stared at his friend, poker faced.
“Now you gonna tell me what that display of anger down there was about? Or do I ask Abby?”
“Leave her out of this, man.”
“Start talking Jonny.”
The two men faced each other, neither willing to give in. The band had always thrived on the huge egos of the two front men and Richie had often seen Jon angry, but never as intensely and never directed at himself and he wanted to know why.
Slowly Jon sagged as if the air had gone out of him. Tears appeared in the corners of his over bright eyes and Richie watched, appalled, as one ran down Jon’s face.
“Jon? What the fuck is going on?”
“I’m fucked Rich. I just can’t do this anymore. The band, the music, the tours. I just…can’t. I’ve had enough, man. Just too fuckin’ tired. I’m old and,” he faltered slightly, breathing deeply to regain his somewhat composure, “I’m quitting. I ain’t gonna do another album.”
“What the fuck?” Richie exclaimed, sinking onto the plush king sized bed.
What ever he’d been expecting, and he’d been expecting something it hadn’t been that. He’d watched as Jon had withdrawn into himself over the previous few months and knew something would have to give but had never thought in his wildest dreams, and he’d had a few of those, that it would ever be the music that gave.
“Is it because of Abby?” Richie asked, shock evident on his handsome face.
“No… well… partly… but… no, I’ve been thinking this over for months now. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in what I was doing, what the band where doing and trying to run the whole damn corporation by myself then what happened would never have happened, and now I’ve met someone I care for deeply,” he had a moment of insight as he realised he really did care deeply for Abby, “I’m not gonna waste a moment with her. So it ends, here.”
“Jon, please. What I said about walking, I was just angry man.” Richie said, unable to believe what Jon had said.
“I know, and you were right, you should’ve torn me a new one. In fact if people hadn’t been so damned afraid of tearing me new one then maybe she’d…” he shook his head as another tear rolled down his face.
He turned to face his best friend.
“I have a new chance Richie and I’m not going to mess this one up like I did before. Look you can stay here if you want, you’re more than welcome to, hell you’re my brother, but please don’t try to change my mind. The paperwork’s already signed, just needs to be sealed and delivered that’s all.”
“When were you gonna tell us?” Richie asked, his mind going off in all sorts of directions.
“New Year.”
Richie’s shoulder sagged as he realised that he wasn’t going to be able to argue with him.
“Whatever man,” he smiled at the face he’d come to know and love deeply over the previous 25 years and saw tiredness, rage and something he’d not seen before. Defeat.
With a groan he buried his head in his hands, a lone tear dripping down his face as he heard the lock snick into place as Jon left.
She flicked through what seemed like a hundred channels on the massive Plasma TV, smiling like a child. She couldn’t believe there were so many channels to choose from. She could only remember there being four back home and it always seemed to her that there was nothing on any of them. The smile slipped slightly as she continued to flick through numerous adverts and really bad programmes. Maybe nothing had changed. There still didn’t seem to be anything on the TV. As she idly flicked something caught her eye and she hurriedly flicked back to be confronted by Jon, complete with bandana, prancing about a stage, singing into a microphone with scarves tied to it. She turned the volume up and smiled, in spite of herself, as the lyrics to ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ blasted through.
She smiled as she thought back to the previous evening. After the wonderful shower she and Jon’d shared, he’d taken it upon himself to introduce her to the Bon Jovi family.
---------------------------------------------
“And this was taken in Moscow. You see the look on Richie’s face? Slightly shocked yeah? He’d just realised that the girl he’d been screwing the night before was married and that her husband was the KGB officer stood next to him in the photo. Thankfully for him, she kept quiet about it, which was good for us, as I’d hate to think what coulda happened ya know?” Jon chuckled as long buried memories bubbled up and broke the surface.
Abby laughed at the thought of Richie and the KGB Officer’s wife. Jon had played a selection of songs to her from all the albums earlier that day. She’d found them melodic, truthful and catchy. Some had made her want to head bang along, some were downright silly, like ‘99 in the shade’, and a few had made her cry, like ‘Make a memory’. One, in particular had made her smile. ‘You had me from hello’ seemed almost prophetic.
--------------------------------------------------
She lounged back, letting the familiar yet new strains of the song wash over her. Richie was playing his solo with what looked like a loo brush sitting on his head, Abby giggled to herself as she took in the supposed fashions that were all the rage in the 80’s. The programme seemed to be a look back to the 80’s and she was rewarded when the next video flashed up to reveal Simon Le Bon stalking through the jungles of Sri Lanka ‘Hungry like a Wolf’. Abby’s jaw hung open as she watched the object of many a teenage fantasy turn his bright blue eyes to her and sing. Another pair of blue eyes entered her consciousness and she found herself, not enjoying the trip down memory lane, but comparing the two men and finding that the ice blue eyes she’d come to know over the past few days were much sexier than Simon’s ever had been. She was so lost in her mental comparison she jumped when she felt a feather light kiss on her head and hands on her shoulders.
“Hey babe.” Jon said, looking up to the TV, “Mmm, you must be in heaven.” he murmured as Simon and the boys lounged and played on the beach.
“Shit Jon, this place is even bigger than I remember.” a deep, caramel laced voice rang out from behind them.
Abby watched as a tall, dark haired, broad shouldered man came into her view and sat down on the sofa next to her. Kind, yet devilish brown eyes fixed their gaze upon her. Abby had to hold back a giggle for the lost loo brush as she took in the short haircut.
“Hi, you must be Abby. Jon’s told me nothing about you.” the man said, taking her hand and pressing a warm kiss on her pulse point.
“Richie, down boy.” Jon said, smiling, yet his eyes were tight.
“Abby, meet Richie. Richie, meet Abby, and hands off.” the warning was there for those that would listen.
Richie raised an eyebrow. Last time he’d heard that tone was when he’d been introduced to Dot and had, inadvertently, flirted with her.
Abby smiled at Richie, who waggled his eyebrows back at her. He was a devastatingly sexy man, who wore his sexuality like a war medal; with pride.
“Hi, nice to meet you. Like the hair.” she blurted, unable to hold in the peal of laughter that had been dangerously close to the surface.
“Did I miss something?” Richie asked, smiling. He always smiled when an attractive woman laughed. As long as she was looking at him he didn’t care if he was butt of the joke or not. Make ‘em laugh and you’re halfway there.
“We were looking through old photo’s yesterday.” Jon explained, leaning on the back on the sofa, his fingers playing softly yet possessively with errant curls of Abby’s hair.
“Oh, did he show the one in Moscow? Christ I nearly shit myself when Kat turned up with her husband. Fuckin’ KGB! I thought I was dead for sure, ‘specially as he was armed with a fuckin’ Uzi. Jeez, I had to go change my shorts!” Richie laughed, good naturedly.
Jon laughed as another memory surfaced.
“Turned out all he wanted was a fuckin’ autograph. Still not sure what the fuck I wrote on that photo. Could’ve been Mickey fuckin’ Mouse for all I know. All I know is I was out of there like a shot after that photo was taken. Headed back to the hotel and stayed there for the rest of the tour.”
“You still didn’t learn anything from that though, did ya, prick.” Jon bantered.
“You can talk, Mr ‘I’ll screw anything with a zip code’.” Richie countered, smiling.
“Fuck you man.” Jon shot back.
Abby sat, in amazement, watching and listening to the banter between the two men. It was obvious they were as close as two people could get without being one. It was fascinating to watch the interaction and ease between them.
Jon squeezed himself onto the sofa between Richie and Abby. He trusted Richie with his life, but knew him too well to trust him with his woman. At least, sometimes.
Richie raised an eyebrow as Jon’s butt came to close for comfort as he settled onto the sofa and grinned to himself. Oh man, Jonny had it bad for this one and he, for one, wasn’t gonna let him get away with it.
“So Abby, are you happy with this reprobate? Cause I’m happy to take over if you’re not.”
Abby laughed, linking her arm though Jon’s as she replied.
“I’m happy, very happy, and if he’s a reprobate then let me be damned too.” she smiled.
Richie looked at Jon who had turned to look at him and froze for a second as pure unadulterated anger flashed across his face for a split second. Richie’s eyes widened, then he recovered his stance.
“Ah Abs, you don’t know what you’re missing darlin’” but his heart wasn’t in it.
Making a show of it, he stretched, hearing his joints crack and pop.
“Well folks, I am shattered. Guess my age is catching up with me as flying ain’t that fun anymore. ‘Specially flying commercial. Jon, you wanna show me which room I’m in?” Richie got up and stood, smiling to hide the hurt.
“Yeah sure.” he mumbled, pressing a kiss on Abby’s temples, before getting up and walking, stiff shouldered out of the room.
Abby turned back to the marathon ‘return to the 80’s’ on the TV and was soon immersed in memories of Cyndi Lauper and ‘Girls wanna have fun’.
Richie picked his overnight case up and followed Jon up the wooden staircase. He walked along the wood and glass bridge until they were both out of sight of Abby. He was angry; no, scratch that, he was furious.
He waited until Jon opened the door of the spacious guest room to say something.
“I’ll say this and say it once so you listen to me. It’s only because of what you’ve gone through over the past few months that I haven’t ripped you a new asshole. You ever look at me like that again and I will walk. I don’t need the work, you get me?” Richie’s voice was low and quiet, always a bad sign coming from such an exuberant person.
Jon stared at his friend, poker faced.
“Now you gonna tell me what that display of anger down there was about? Or do I ask Abby?”
“Leave her out of this, man.”
“Start talking Jonny.”
The two men faced each other, neither willing to give in. The band had always thrived on the huge egos of the two front men and Richie had often seen Jon angry, but never as intensely and never directed at himself and he wanted to know why.
Slowly Jon sagged as if the air had gone out of him. Tears appeared in the corners of his over bright eyes and Richie watched, appalled, as one ran down Jon’s face.
“Jon? What the fuck is going on?”
“I’m fucked Rich. I just can’t do this anymore. The band, the music, the tours. I just…can’t. I’ve had enough, man. Just too fuckin’ tired. I’m old and,” he faltered slightly, breathing deeply to regain his somewhat composure, “I’m quitting. I ain’t gonna do another album.”
“What the fuck?” Richie exclaimed, sinking onto the plush king sized bed.
What ever he’d been expecting, and he’d been expecting something it hadn’t been that. He’d watched as Jon had withdrawn into himself over the previous few months and knew something would have to give but had never thought in his wildest dreams, and he’d had a few of those, that it would ever be the music that gave.
“Is it because of Abby?” Richie asked, shock evident on his handsome face.
“No… well… partly… but… no, I’ve been thinking this over for months now. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in what I was doing, what the band where doing and trying to run the whole damn corporation by myself then what happened would never have happened, and now I’ve met someone I care for deeply,” he had a moment of insight as he realised he really did care deeply for Abby, “I’m not gonna waste a moment with her. So it ends, here.”
“Jon, please. What I said about walking, I was just angry man.” Richie said, unable to believe what Jon had said.
“I know, and you were right, you should’ve torn me a new one. In fact if people hadn’t been so damned afraid of tearing me new one then maybe she’d…” he shook his head as another tear rolled down his face.
He turned to face his best friend.
“I have a new chance Richie and I’m not going to mess this one up like I did before. Look you can stay here if you want, you’re more than welcome to, hell you’re my brother, but please don’t try to change my mind. The paperwork’s already signed, just needs to be sealed and delivered that’s all.”
“When were you gonna tell us?” Richie asked, his mind going off in all sorts of directions.
“New Year.”
Richie’s shoulder sagged as he realised that he wasn’t going to be able to argue with him.
“Whatever man,” he smiled at the face he’d come to know and love deeply over the previous 25 years and saw tiredness, rage and something he’d not seen before. Defeat.
With a groan he buried his head in his hands, a lone tear dripping down his face as he heard the lock snick into place as Jon left.
Chapter Nine
Detective Sutton looked at the extremely attractive blonde behind the reception desk. He had made the journey downtown to the offices of US Rock as no-one had seemed to have the time to talk to him on the telephone, plus it was always better to get a face to face in order to read their body language. He unwrapped the wool scarf from around his neck, shivered as some melted snow briefly touched his bare neck, and smiled at the woman. The sign behind her on the wall read Bauer Media Corp, which he guessed was the parent company.
He stepped closer to the reception desk and smiled. She was more attractive the closer he got and was wearing the sexiest dress he‘d ever seen, even if it was totally unsuitable for the weather outside. A 1950’s style halter dress in black with sexy little cherry bomb prints dotted all over it.
He cleared his throat, his smile faltering a little as he struggled to stop staring at her.
‘Damn it all, I need to get laid’ he thought fleetingly as she looked up from some paperwork and smiled at him
‘Oh hell, I’m lost’
“Good morning, welcome to US Rock. How can I help you?”
‘British as well. Shit I am so dead.'
“Hi, Veronica,” he squinted, reading her name tag, “I’m Detective Luke Sutton and I’m here to see Steve Hallitt.” he said in a rush.
Veronica looked at the handsome Detective and smiled to herself. It was the dress, she knew it was. She’d managed to pull every time she’d worn it and it looked like New York’s finest weren’t immune either.
“Ok, if you’d like to take a seat I’ll let him know you’re here.” she said, flicking her long wavy blonde hair over her shoulder, “Please help yourself to coffee while you wait.”
Luke sat down on a quite comfortable chair and leant back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so affected by someone he’d just met. She really was stunning. Mentally shaking himself, he thought about the case he’d been given. He flipped open the folder and began to remind himself of the facts he had.
He was so lost in reading about Jenna’s life that he didn’t see the tall man approach him until he heard a cough.
Luke looked up into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen behind a pair of round wire framed glasses. A rather pleasant, non threatening face topped off with a mop of dark brown hair.
‘Jeez, he looks like that Harry Potter actor.’ Luke caught himself thinking as he got up from his seat and went to shake the proffered hand.
“Hi. I’m Steve Hallitt.”
He noticed Luke staring at him and chuckled.
“I guess you’re thinking, Christ he looks like Harry Potter,” Steve said, good naturedly. “I’ve heard it pretty much every day since that first film came out. Even got to the point where I was going to carve that damned lightening scar into my forehead .” he ran his hands down his jeans.
Luke recovered himself and forced himself to stop staring. “I’m…I apologise for staring, it’s just so uncanny.”
Steve smiled. “Apology accepted. You know that’s one thing I miss about not having Jenna here. She’s so damned protective towards us you know. I had to stop her from physically hurting one band member once when he wouldn’t stop calling me Harry. Anyway, this is our meeting room,” Steve said, leading Luke into a small but airy room, containing a couple of sofas, a well worn coffee table, a couple of bottles of Jack Daniels and a widescreen TV.
“Well, the guys we interview won’t sit round a table like normal, they’d just get up and leave you know…so we have to provide a few home comforts.” Steve explained to Luke’s look of astonishment.
“It’s cool, just wish I could get our Captain to approve something like this.” He said, sitting down in a squishy leather seat.
Steve sat opposite him, straightening his tee shirt and rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans.
“You ok? You look a bit nervous.” Luke said, curiously.
“Oh yeah man, I’m fine, you know even though my uncle is who he is, I still get nervous around cops. Guess it comes with the territory you know…we’re not meant to be the most law abiding people us rockers…” he trailed off, running his hand through his mop of hair, making it stick out in all directions.
Luke smiled to put the man at ease. It wasn’t the first time he’d interviewed someone who was nervous, though it did usually mean they were guilty, of something at least.
“So, down to business. You reported Miss Riley missing when exactly?” Luke asked, wanting to get Steve to tell the story again, rather than rely on his notes. That way if there were any discrepancies Luke would spot them.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, for Steve anyway, his story matched the one written down.
“Tell me what she’s like as a person.” Luke asked.
Steve looked at him, taken aback at the question.
“Erm.”
“You said she was protective of you all.”
“Well, yeah, to a point.”
“And that point being?” Luke tried to prompt him.
“Well, she is protective of us all but can be a bit acidic if any of us are late getting the mag to bed every month.”
“Ok. In what way acidic?” Luke looked at the man in front of him, taking in the fidgeting and twitching. He knew there was something behind it and if he could probe deep enough maybe he would get the full story. This was the bit he hated, the bit where he had to be polite and listen to well meaning but obviously bullshit diatribe before the speaker hopefully got the point.
“Well, I hate to speak ill of her but, oh man, she can be a right bitch.” Steve slumped in his seat.
Luke stared in astonishment as Steve began to unload. Ok, so maybe he didn’t have to wait that long before the truth came out.
“She’s been here for six months and, yeah the magazine’s never been run so smoothly but man, is it worth it? Everything has to be done just so. I mean you saw V on reception, yeah? She’s a looker right? Well Jenna hated the fact that she dresses like ‘a 1950’s housewife on acid’ and made it her life’s work to bully her into leaving.”
“Why don’t you fire her then, you are the editor, aren’t you?” Luke asked, causing Steve to stop mid-rant and look at the man in astonishment.
“Because she’s fucking good at her job. If I fired everyone I’d ever had an argument with I’d have no staff. Ok, listen, when I said bitch maybe that was a bit much and V? Well V can be a bit much sometimes, not much going on upstairs if you get my meaning. Listen this magazine was on its last legs before she came over. She was working for Kerrang magazine in London and came over for a year or two to get us back together which she is doing, so we forgive her for her rants and general bitchiness.”
Luke sighed inside. It was obvious he wasn’t going to get much out of Steve. Something was going on and Steve had decided to backtrack on his earlier rant making Luke’s job even harder.
“I mean she’s not that bad to work with, and it’s not like I’m Jon Bon Jovi…” Steve chuckled.
“What do you mean?” Luke asked, intrigued.
“Oh man, she fucking hates that dude with a passion. No-one knows why. She has done for, like, ever,” He got up from his seat, “Come and see her desk and you’ll get a better idea.”
Luke followed Steve out of the meeting room and into a large, overcrowded, bustling room, filled with rock memorabilia, tons of paper, and the generally harassed staff of a monthly rock magazine. Some unidentifiable song screamed out from a small digital radio that was half buried under a pile of paperwork.
He smiled at the people behind desks as he passed, feeling more and more like a Mormon caught knocking on Ozzy Osborne’s front door, asking him if he’d heard of Jesus.
He was led up to a neat and tidy desk, covered with rows of in trays, all with various stickers neatly typed and was struck by the contrast between this one and the rest. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, except for the tidiness until Steve opened the door of a small cupboard that sat adjacent to the desk.
Luke’s eyes widened as he took in the various and many defaced and pock marked pictures of not only Jon but the whole band. He gulped as he realised one of them still had a dart sticking in it, right slap bang in the middle of Jon’s forehead.
“Ok,” he said, “I see what you mean about ‘she hates them’. Why did you show me?” he asked.
“Just thought you needed to see she’s someone who can take care of herself and that she’s got a nasty and vicious side to her so if she’s missing? Something bad has happened to her.” Steve said, perturbed that the officer had obviously missed the in joke that no one who works for a rock magazine likes Bon Jovi.
He stepped closer to the reception desk and smiled. She was more attractive the closer he got and was wearing the sexiest dress he‘d ever seen, even if it was totally unsuitable for the weather outside. A 1950’s style halter dress in black with sexy little cherry bomb prints dotted all over it.
He cleared his throat, his smile faltering a little as he struggled to stop staring at her.
‘Damn it all, I need to get laid’ he thought fleetingly as she looked up from some paperwork and smiled at him
‘Oh hell, I’m lost’
“Good morning, welcome to US Rock. How can I help you?”
‘British as well. Shit I am so dead.'
“Hi, Veronica,” he squinted, reading her name tag, “I’m Detective Luke Sutton and I’m here to see Steve Hallitt.” he said in a rush.
Veronica looked at the handsome Detective and smiled to herself. It was the dress, she knew it was. She’d managed to pull every time she’d worn it and it looked like New York’s finest weren’t immune either.
“Ok, if you’d like to take a seat I’ll let him know you’re here.” she said, flicking her long wavy blonde hair over her shoulder, “Please help yourself to coffee while you wait.”
Luke sat down on a quite comfortable chair and leant back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so affected by someone he’d just met. She really was stunning. Mentally shaking himself, he thought about the case he’d been given. He flipped open the folder and began to remind himself of the facts he had.
He was so lost in reading about Jenna’s life that he didn’t see the tall man approach him until he heard a cough.
Luke looked up into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen behind a pair of round wire framed glasses. A rather pleasant, non threatening face topped off with a mop of dark brown hair.
‘Jeez, he looks like that Harry Potter actor.’ Luke caught himself thinking as he got up from his seat and went to shake the proffered hand.
“Hi. I’m Steve Hallitt.”
He noticed Luke staring at him and chuckled.
“I guess you’re thinking, Christ he looks like Harry Potter,” Steve said, good naturedly. “I’ve heard it pretty much every day since that first film came out. Even got to the point where I was going to carve that damned lightening scar into my forehead .” he ran his hands down his jeans.
Luke recovered himself and forced himself to stop staring. “I’m…I apologise for staring, it’s just so uncanny.”
Steve smiled. “Apology accepted. You know that’s one thing I miss about not having Jenna here. She’s so damned protective towards us you know. I had to stop her from physically hurting one band member once when he wouldn’t stop calling me Harry. Anyway, this is our meeting room,” Steve said, leading Luke into a small but airy room, containing a couple of sofas, a well worn coffee table, a couple of bottles of Jack Daniels and a widescreen TV.
“Well, the guys we interview won’t sit round a table like normal, they’d just get up and leave you know…so we have to provide a few home comforts.” Steve explained to Luke’s look of astonishment.
“It’s cool, just wish I could get our Captain to approve something like this.” He said, sitting down in a squishy leather seat.
Steve sat opposite him, straightening his tee shirt and rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans.
“You ok? You look a bit nervous.” Luke said, curiously.
“Oh yeah man, I’m fine, you know even though my uncle is who he is, I still get nervous around cops. Guess it comes with the territory you know…we’re not meant to be the most law abiding people us rockers…” he trailed off, running his hand through his mop of hair, making it stick out in all directions.
Luke smiled to put the man at ease. It wasn’t the first time he’d interviewed someone who was nervous, though it did usually mean they were guilty, of something at least.
“So, down to business. You reported Miss Riley missing when exactly?” Luke asked, wanting to get Steve to tell the story again, rather than rely on his notes. That way if there were any discrepancies Luke would spot them.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, for Steve anyway, his story matched the one written down.
“Tell me what she’s like as a person.” Luke asked.
Steve looked at him, taken aback at the question.
“Erm.”
“You said she was protective of you all.”
“Well, yeah, to a point.”
“And that point being?” Luke tried to prompt him.
“Well, she is protective of us all but can be a bit acidic if any of us are late getting the mag to bed every month.”
“Ok. In what way acidic?” Luke looked at the man in front of him, taking in the fidgeting and twitching. He knew there was something behind it and if he could probe deep enough maybe he would get the full story. This was the bit he hated, the bit where he had to be polite and listen to well meaning but obviously bullshit diatribe before the speaker hopefully got the point.
“Well, I hate to speak ill of her but, oh man, she can be a right bitch.” Steve slumped in his seat.
Luke stared in astonishment as Steve began to unload. Ok, so maybe he didn’t have to wait that long before the truth came out.
“She’s been here for six months and, yeah the magazine’s never been run so smoothly but man, is it worth it? Everything has to be done just so. I mean you saw V on reception, yeah? She’s a looker right? Well Jenna hated the fact that she dresses like ‘a 1950’s housewife on acid’ and made it her life’s work to bully her into leaving.”
“Why don’t you fire her then, you are the editor, aren’t you?” Luke asked, causing Steve to stop mid-rant and look at the man in astonishment.
“Because she’s fucking good at her job. If I fired everyone I’d ever had an argument with I’d have no staff. Ok, listen, when I said bitch maybe that was a bit much and V? Well V can be a bit much sometimes, not much going on upstairs if you get my meaning. Listen this magazine was on its last legs before she came over. She was working for Kerrang magazine in London and came over for a year or two to get us back together which she is doing, so we forgive her for her rants and general bitchiness.”
Luke sighed inside. It was obvious he wasn’t going to get much out of Steve. Something was going on and Steve had decided to backtrack on his earlier rant making Luke’s job even harder.
“I mean she’s not that bad to work with, and it’s not like I’m Jon Bon Jovi…” Steve chuckled.
“What do you mean?” Luke asked, intrigued.
“Oh man, she fucking hates that dude with a passion. No-one knows why. She has done for, like, ever,” He got up from his seat, “Come and see her desk and you’ll get a better idea.”
Luke followed Steve out of the meeting room and into a large, overcrowded, bustling room, filled with rock memorabilia, tons of paper, and the generally harassed staff of a monthly rock magazine. Some unidentifiable song screamed out from a small digital radio that was half buried under a pile of paperwork.
He smiled at the people behind desks as he passed, feeling more and more like a Mormon caught knocking on Ozzy Osborne’s front door, asking him if he’d heard of Jesus.
He was led up to a neat and tidy desk, covered with rows of in trays, all with various stickers neatly typed and was struck by the contrast between this one and the rest. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, except for the tidiness until Steve opened the door of a small cupboard that sat adjacent to the desk.
Luke’s eyes widened as he took in the various and many defaced and pock marked pictures of not only Jon but the whole band. He gulped as he realised one of them still had a dart sticking in it, right slap bang in the middle of Jon’s forehead.
“Ok,” he said, “I see what you mean about ‘she hates them’. Why did you show me?” he asked.
“Just thought you needed to see she’s someone who can take care of herself and that she’s got a nasty and vicious side to her so if she’s missing? Something bad has happened to her.” Steve said, perturbed that the officer had obviously missed the in joke that no one who works for a rock magazine likes Bon Jovi.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
Chapter Eight
Jon settled back in his tan leather laz-e-boy chair. He had ESPN on the large screen plasma TV but wasn’t really watching it, even though it was a rerun of the Giants game at Dallas Cowboys. The tree was decorated and had pride of place in the corner of the room. It wasn’t a real one as had been planned as he hadn’t really planned on how they were going to transport it home and he’d had to admit defeat, with Abby sniggering in the background, when he’d tried and failed to get the tree fixed to the top of his car. He knew Abby couldn’t help him but it had pissed him off somewhat that she’d just sniggered as he’d fought with the tree. In the end he’d just given up and had left it in the car park for someone else to take. They had picked up a 6ft plastic one, much to Jon‘s chagrin, on the way home, as well as spending quite a few hours and quite a bit of money on outfitting Abby with a complete new wardrobe. Jon didn‘t care about the cost, just that Abby was happy. The tree was black, which had been Abby‘s choice, which had taken her well over an hour to decorate. Jon had to admit it did look impressive, with the neon blue lights and silver decorations, but he was still disappointed not to have that fresh pine smell that he’d come to associate Christmas with.
It was well past midnight but he wasn’t sleepy; tired but not sleepy. Abby had gone off to bed at about 10pm and he’d been left, pottering about in the huge house. Although Abby had only been living in the house for two days it felt empty when she wasn’t around. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. A steaming cup of hot chocolate sat untouched by his arm. His mobile buzzed and he picked it up. It was Obie calling.
“Hey Obie.”
“Oh good you’re awake. I have some news. You might not like it though.”
“Tell me.” Jon was instantly alert, all previous signs of tiredness had gone.
“Ok, well we’ve managed to trace Abigail Jennifer Anderson. She was born on 24th September 1970 in Carshalton, Surrey to David and Anna Anderson. Shortly after her birth they moved to a suburb of Kent called Belvedere which is where they lived, quite uneventfully, until December 1986. I’ve got all her school reports and medical reports, don’t ask me how, as I’d have to shoot you, but, and this is where it gets weird, everything stops after 15th December 1986. I have a visit to the doctors for a cold on the 15th December and then nothing. Zip, nada, zilch. It’s as if Abigail just disappeared off the face of the planet. I’ve had my guys checking to see whether they moved to another part of England or even moved country but nothing so far. As far as we can find out they didn’t have passports issued in their names so…”
“That is weird. Just vanished? Have you checked death certificates? Maybe her parents died. I just don’t know what else to think.” Jon was completely flummoxed.
On that note Jon said his goodbyes and sat back, his mind going crazy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Sutton! In my office, now!”
Luke looked up as his captain shouted. He got up from his desk which was strewn with paperwork, mostly relating to the Slasher case.
“You hollered Captain?” Luke said as he sauntered into the small office.
“I want you to look into this case.” Captain Andrew Phillips said as he handed over a manila folder.
“As well as the Slasher case?” Luke asked, puzzled.
“Instead of the Slasher case. Now before you start, I’ve already spoken with Graves and he’s informed me that you have no new leads. Now unless you can tell me that’s incorrect then I expect you to follow up on this case.”
Luke flipped through the folder.
“Missing persons? Since when do we deal with missing persons?” he asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.
This was just full of shit. He was in the middle of a full on murder investigation and to be pulled off to find some missing woman was just…shit, that’s what it was.
“We look for missing persons since the order came down from on high. Her name is Jenna Riley, she was reported missing after thanksgiving and the person who reported her is the Commissioners nephew. Now I don’t like it as much as you don’t, all this political bullshit, but you know as well as I do, the Commissioner says jump, we say how high,” Captain Phillips took a breath and looked at Luke.
“Luke, just look into it as far as you can go and then we can hand it back. Ok?”
“Lip service?”
“Exactly. We’re gonna do this by the book. We’ve been asked to ‘look’ into it and look is what we’ll do. Then you can get back to finding this murderous son of a bitch.”
“Ok Captain.” Luke felt a bit happier. He could make a few phone calls, find out a few things and then legitimately, having looked into it, give the case back to missing persons. He walked back to his desk and began the task of reading the file.
Her name was Jenna Riley, she was 38 and worked for US Rock, a heavy metal/ rock magazine, based in Manhattan. She’d been due to go into work on Thanksgiving to finish up an article, as she’d had some vacation time coming up, but hadn’t turned up. Nothing much had been done until after she’d been due back to work. Her boss, Steve Hallitt, the Commissioners nephew, had called her and left messages and after two days of calling, had called his uncle. To give him his dues the Commissioner had advised his nephew to go through the proper channels but as it was coming up to three weeks and nothing, Mr Hallitt had pulled a few strings. Luke didn’t really blame him, he just wished he hadn’t been handed the case.
Taking a sip of the luke warm coffee on his desk, he pulled he phone towards him and began the arduous task of phoning everyone on the list that he’d need to speak to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Abby woke up with a big smile on her face. Today was the day she was getting that damned plaster cast off her leg. It was itching her something crazy and she just knew her leg would be hairy and covered in dead skin cells. She pulled a face as she thought of the huge task of shaving it after the cast was removed but smiled as she thought of the sensation of lowering said leg into a bath full of hot bubbly water. She sat up with a stretch and yawned. Bright sunlight filtered through a chink in the heavy silk curtains. She looked at the clock.
It was 9:07am. The earliest she’d woken for a very long time.
She pushed back the heavy comforter and got out of bed, glaring at the hated cast. She picked up a towel and clumped her way to the bathroom. Although she felt rested her head wasn’t yet awake and so although she noticed the bathroom was steamy, she failed to notice that the shower was still running and that Jon was in it.
Jon stood under the hot spray, his eyes closed. He hadn’t slept very well as all sorts of things had been going through his mind. Where had Abby disappeared to? What had happened to her? He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear the shower door open until he heard a sharp and quite surprised squeak behind him.
Not thinking he turned round to find a wide eyed and blushing Abby looking at him. Correction, a wide eyed, blushing and naked Abby looking at him.
“Morning babe.” he said, through the steam, “Coming in?”.
Abby stared in shock at the naked man in front of her. How one person could be so beautiful, inside and out, was a mystery to her. She stared at his sculptured, muscular chest, well developed arms and powerful thighs and gulped, her mouth suddenly dry, even in the steam. She knew she was blushing and, from the goose bumps on her skin, vaguely remembered she was naked. She just couldn’t move, like deer in headlights.
Jon cocked his head at her, smiling. Christ! She was fit. Curves in all the right places, soft creamy skin, a biteable ass and breasts he could spend all day stroking and playing with. He grinned wryly and, reaching out an arm, took her of her hand and led her, quite unresisting, into the heat of the shower and his embrace.
“You were letting the cold in.” he murmured before lowering his head to kiss her.
Abby felt her stomach muscles tense and then drop as molten liquid. She felt his hands, the callused fingertips grazing her skin, skimming the sides of her breasts and down to her waist, where he held her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, losing herself in the heat and tenderness of his kiss.
Jon groaned as he felt the softness of her skin under his fingers. God he wanted her right this moment. He felt himself harden against her belly as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in closer to her.
Abby smiled to herself. What on earth had she been worried about? To be held in this man’s arms was just the most wonderful feeling she’d ever known and she just wanted to be lost in him.
Their kiss deepened. Jon pushed Abby up against the wall of the shower cubicle away from the spray. He bent his head and took a nipple into his warm mouth. Abby closed her eyes, giving into the intense heat that was building in her lower stomach. She clutched at his head, running her fingers across his scalp, alternatively scratching then soothing the wet skin.
Jon explored her body, running his fingertips over her ass and round her thighs, feeling the soft downy hair tickle the back of his hands as he gently stroked her mound.
Abby jumped, groaning aloud, as she felt Jon touching her. Her stomach had long since dropped away into nothingness, leaving behind a pit of molten liquid. She shifted slightly to allow him access. She felt wanton and free and safe.
Jon ran his fingertips lightly up the inside of her thigh. He could feel her heat and groaned as he touched her warmth. He stroked the hot satiny skin until he found the hard nub of nerve endings. He leant in and nuzzled her neck, feeling her jump as he pinched down on her clitoris. He smiled to himself as he slipped a finger inside her, marvelling at the warmth and tightness.
Abby could feel her legs beginning to buckle as white lightening shot through her.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.
She thought as Jon wrapped his strong arms around her, pinning her up against the warm tiles. She was panting as he slowly pumped his finger in and out. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating wildly, as her world spiralled away from her, she closed her eyes tightly, little neon dots dancing in the darkness. Her stomach clenched once then fell away as she was tipped over the abyss.
Jon could feel her orgasm approaching and wanted nothing more than to bury himself deeply inside her and never resurface. He tried to slow his breathing but just the thought of bringing this beautiful creature to orgasm was too much for him and with his free hand he began to stroke his dick. One part of his brain immediately thought of the old trick of rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time before it shut down as he was lost in sensations. The vibrations of Abby’s groans shooting through his chest, the tightness of her clenching around his sodden finger and the touch of his own hand all combined to produce the most intense and forceful orgasm he’d had in a long time, if ever. His heart thudded in his chest as he waited for his breathing to slow down. He could feel Abby slumped slightly against him, shivering slightly, even in the heat of the water. He lowered his head until his chin rested on her head and closed his eyes, smiling.
What a great start to the day.
Opening his eyes he looked down and grinned.
“I think your plaster cast got a bit wet.” he said, smiling.
Two sets of eyes looked down at the sodden, pulpy plaster cast and both of them burst into giggles.
It was well past midnight but he wasn’t sleepy; tired but not sleepy. Abby had gone off to bed at about 10pm and he’d been left, pottering about in the huge house. Although Abby had only been living in the house for two days it felt empty when she wasn’t around. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. A steaming cup of hot chocolate sat untouched by his arm. His mobile buzzed and he picked it up. It was Obie calling.
“Hey Obie.”
“Oh good you’re awake. I have some news. You might not like it though.”
“Tell me.” Jon was instantly alert, all previous signs of tiredness had gone.
“Ok, well we’ve managed to trace Abigail Jennifer Anderson. She was born on 24th September 1970 in Carshalton, Surrey to David and Anna Anderson. Shortly after her birth they moved to a suburb of Kent called Belvedere which is where they lived, quite uneventfully, until December 1986. I’ve got all her school reports and medical reports, don’t ask me how, as I’d have to shoot you, but, and this is where it gets weird, everything stops after 15th December 1986. I have a visit to the doctors for a cold on the 15th December and then nothing. Zip, nada, zilch. It’s as if Abigail just disappeared off the face of the planet. I’ve had my guys checking to see whether they moved to another part of England or even moved country but nothing so far. As far as we can find out they didn’t have passports issued in their names so…”
“That is weird. Just vanished? Have you checked death certificates? Maybe her parents died. I just don’t know what else to think.” Jon was completely flummoxed.
On that note Jon said his goodbyes and sat back, his mind going crazy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Sutton! In my office, now!”
Luke looked up as his captain shouted. He got up from his desk which was strewn with paperwork, mostly relating to the Slasher case.
“You hollered Captain?” Luke said as he sauntered into the small office.
“I want you to look into this case.” Captain Andrew Phillips said as he handed over a manila folder.
“As well as the Slasher case?” Luke asked, puzzled.
“Instead of the Slasher case. Now before you start, I’ve already spoken with Graves and he’s informed me that you have no new leads. Now unless you can tell me that’s incorrect then I expect you to follow up on this case.”
Luke flipped through the folder.
“Missing persons? Since when do we deal with missing persons?” he asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.
This was just full of shit. He was in the middle of a full on murder investigation and to be pulled off to find some missing woman was just…shit, that’s what it was.
“We look for missing persons since the order came down from on high. Her name is Jenna Riley, she was reported missing after thanksgiving and the person who reported her is the Commissioners nephew. Now I don’t like it as much as you don’t, all this political bullshit, but you know as well as I do, the Commissioner says jump, we say how high,” Captain Phillips took a breath and looked at Luke.
“Luke, just look into it as far as you can go and then we can hand it back. Ok?”
“Lip service?”
“Exactly. We’re gonna do this by the book. We’ve been asked to ‘look’ into it and look is what we’ll do. Then you can get back to finding this murderous son of a bitch.”
“Ok Captain.” Luke felt a bit happier. He could make a few phone calls, find out a few things and then legitimately, having looked into it, give the case back to missing persons. He walked back to his desk and began the task of reading the file.
Her name was Jenna Riley, she was 38 and worked for US Rock, a heavy metal/ rock magazine, based in Manhattan. She’d been due to go into work on Thanksgiving to finish up an article, as she’d had some vacation time coming up, but hadn’t turned up. Nothing much had been done until after she’d been due back to work. Her boss, Steve Hallitt, the Commissioners nephew, had called her and left messages and after two days of calling, had called his uncle. To give him his dues the Commissioner had advised his nephew to go through the proper channels but as it was coming up to three weeks and nothing, Mr Hallitt had pulled a few strings. Luke didn’t really blame him, he just wished he hadn’t been handed the case.
Taking a sip of the luke warm coffee on his desk, he pulled he phone towards him and began the arduous task of phoning everyone on the list that he’d need to speak to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Abby woke up with a big smile on her face. Today was the day she was getting that damned plaster cast off her leg. It was itching her something crazy and she just knew her leg would be hairy and covered in dead skin cells. She pulled a face as she thought of the huge task of shaving it after the cast was removed but smiled as she thought of the sensation of lowering said leg into a bath full of hot bubbly water. She sat up with a stretch and yawned. Bright sunlight filtered through a chink in the heavy silk curtains. She looked at the clock.
It was 9:07am. The earliest she’d woken for a very long time.
She pushed back the heavy comforter and got out of bed, glaring at the hated cast. She picked up a towel and clumped her way to the bathroom. Although she felt rested her head wasn’t yet awake and so although she noticed the bathroom was steamy, she failed to notice that the shower was still running and that Jon was in it.
Jon stood under the hot spray, his eyes closed. He hadn’t slept very well as all sorts of things had been going through his mind. Where had Abby disappeared to? What had happened to her? He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear the shower door open until he heard a sharp and quite surprised squeak behind him.
Not thinking he turned round to find a wide eyed and blushing Abby looking at him. Correction, a wide eyed, blushing and naked Abby looking at him.
“Morning babe.” he said, through the steam, “Coming in?”.
Abby stared in shock at the naked man in front of her. How one person could be so beautiful, inside and out, was a mystery to her. She stared at his sculptured, muscular chest, well developed arms and powerful thighs and gulped, her mouth suddenly dry, even in the steam. She knew she was blushing and, from the goose bumps on her skin, vaguely remembered she was naked. She just couldn’t move, like deer in headlights.
Jon cocked his head at her, smiling. Christ! She was fit. Curves in all the right places, soft creamy skin, a biteable ass and breasts he could spend all day stroking and playing with. He grinned wryly and, reaching out an arm, took her of her hand and led her, quite unresisting, into the heat of the shower and his embrace.
“You were letting the cold in.” he murmured before lowering his head to kiss her.
Abby felt her stomach muscles tense and then drop as molten liquid. She felt his hands, the callused fingertips grazing her skin, skimming the sides of her breasts and down to her waist, where he held her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, losing herself in the heat and tenderness of his kiss.
Jon groaned as he felt the softness of her skin under his fingers. God he wanted her right this moment. He felt himself harden against her belly as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in closer to her.
Abby smiled to herself. What on earth had she been worried about? To be held in this man’s arms was just the most wonderful feeling she’d ever known and she just wanted to be lost in him.
Their kiss deepened. Jon pushed Abby up against the wall of the shower cubicle away from the spray. He bent his head and took a nipple into his warm mouth. Abby closed her eyes, giving into the intense heat that was building in her lower stomach. She clutched at his head, running her fingers across his scalp, alternatively scratching then soothing the wet skin.
Jon explored her body, running his fingertips over her ass and round her thighs, feeling the soft downy hair tickle the back of his hands as he gently stroked her mound.
Abby jumped, groaning aloud, as she felt Jon touching her. Her stomach had long since dropped away into nothingness, leaving behind a pit of molten liquid. She shifted slightly to allow him access. She felt wanton and free and safe.
Jon ran his fingertips lightly up the inside of her thigh. He could feel her heat and groaned as he touched her warmth. He stroked the hot satiny skin until he found the hard nub of nerve endings. He leant in and nuzzled her neck, feeling her jump as he pinched down on her clitoris. He smiled to himself as he slipped a finger inside her, marvelling at the warmth and tightness.
Abby could feel her legs beginning to buckle as white lightening shot through her.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.
She thought as Jon wrapped his strong arms around her, pinning her up against the warm tiles. She was panting as he slowly pumped his finger in and out. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beating wildly, as her world spiralled away from her, she closed her eyes tightly, little neon dots dancing in the darkness. Her stomach clenched once then fell away as she was tipped over the abyss.
Jon could feel her orgasm approaching and wanted nothing more than to bury himself deeply inside her and never resurface. He tried to slow his breathing but just the thought of bringing this beautiful creature to orgasm was too much for him and with his free hand he began to stroke his dick. One part of his brain immediately thought of the old trick of rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time before it shut down as he was lost in sensations. The vibrations of Abby’s groans shooting through his chest, the tightness of her clenching around his sodden finger and the touch of his own hand all combined to produce the most intense and forceful orgasm he’d had in a long time, if ever. His heart thudded in his chest as he waited for his breathing to slow down. He could feel Abby slumped slightly against him, shivering slightly, even in the heat of the water. He lowered his head until his chin rested on her head and closed his eyes, smiling.
What a great start to the day.
Opening his eyes he looked down and grinned.
“I think your plaster cast got a bit wet.” he said, smiling.
Two sets of eyes looked down at the sodden, pulpy plaster cast and both of them burst into giggles.
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