Chapter Seventy

The drive to her parents’ house was short, ten minutes because they got stuck at a red light.  Pulling in the driveway she shut off the car and studied it for a moment.  It hadn’t changed since she’d been there for Christmas.  The modest white colonial with its slate blue shutters and double front door hadn’t really changed in the 30 years since they had moved in. 

The Christmas decorations were put away and the summer chairs were out at the far end of the porch now.  The pots on either side of the door were waiting for their annual plantings of green spikes and red geraniums.  And she knew when she stepped out she’d be able to hear the low tones of the wind chimes dangling from the overhang.  Turning her head, she could see the Mountain Ash trees were slowly coming out of hibernation and the crocuses and tulips planted around their bases were in full bloom.  Her mother had green thumbs up to her shoulders and her gardens were her pride and joy.

Turning back, the front door opened and her mother watched from the window of the storm door, waiting for them to get out of the car.  She felt Richie’s hand close over hers.  She raised her eyes to his.

“Okay?”

She smiled and nodded, “yeah, let’s go in.  Mom probably has coffee on and dessert waiting.”  She looked to the front door again.  “And she’s pressing her nose to the glass like an excited puppy.”

Richie chuckled, “I’m going to tell her you said that.”  He pushed open his door and stepped out.

She hurried out her own door with a laughing threat. “You’d better not!”

He beat her to the door by a step and she peered around his shoulder as her mother pushed open the door.  “Hi mom!”

Her mother stepped back and invited them in.  Stephanie barely cleared the door and she was engulfed in her mother’s hug.  She closed her eyes for just a moment.  There was nothing quite like a hug from mom.   “It’s good to see you, sweetie.  It’s been much too long.” 

Stephanie pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek and eased back from the hug.  “It’s only been a few months, mom.”  She peered over her mother’s shoulder. Her dad was standing there watching, waiting.  “Hey dad.”  She stepped around her mother and pressed kiss to her father’s cheek.  “How’re you doing today?”  He had his good days and bad, but with Parkinson’s, you just never knew which it was going to be.

“Not too bad today.”

She smiled, his voice was strong and steady today and he looked good.  “Good.”

With a small flurry of activity, jackets were hung and Stephanie and Richie were ushered into the kitchen.  “Let’s get away from the door” her mother said as she urged them forward.

The end of the hallway opened up to a bright kitchen on the right and a comfortable family room on the left.  In the kitchen the same table that had been there all her life was dressed with a cheery, fruit patterned table cloth.  Dessert plates, forks and napkins lay in wait and the coffee pot let out a final belch, signaling its readiness. 

Standing around the island, Stephanie made the long awaited introductions.  “Mom and Dad,” she started with a wave of her hand, “this is Richie, Richie Sambora.”   She turned to her man, “and Richie, these are my parents, Ed and Sue Olindo.”

Hands were shook, hellos were murmured and finally, Stephanie grabbed the pot of coffee, set it on the table on the hand-woven potholder that was 30 years old if it was a day.  “Now that that’s over, anyone want coffee?”

Stephanie poured coffee while her mother dished up homemade cinnamon coffee cake.  Stephanie’s eyes widened at the size piece her mother placed in front of her.  “Mom, that’s huge!”

“You could use a few pounds on you, honey.  You’ve gotten so thin.  Don’t you eat anymore?”  She sat down and picked up her fork and took a bit of her own smaller piece of cake.

Stephanie picked up her spoon and stirred her coffee, ignoring the slab of cake her mother put in front of her.  For the moment.  “Yes mom, I eat.”

“Not much” Richie mumbled around a mouthful of cake.

She ignored him.  “I just don’t eat like I used to.  I don’t eat as many sweets and I work out nearly every day.”  Her appetite had never really recovered after Mark and Ben died.  She picked up her cup and sipped her coffee, hoping the subject was closed and they could move on to something else.

“So Richie” her dad intervened and her mother let the subject drop.  “Stephanie tells us you’re a musician.”  He paused, wiping his mouth with his napkin.  “A guitarist, is it?”

Richie nodded his head as he finished chewing.  “Yes, I’m in a rock band.”

“Bon Jovi, right?”

He turned and looked at Stephanie, surprise showing in his eyes before turning back to her father.  He wondered just how much she had told them about him.  “That’s right.  We’re on a short break from touring right now.  We’ll be back on the road in a few weeks.”

Her dad nodded his understanding.  “She’s been a fan of the band for a long time.”

Richie smiled, “yeah, I know.” 

Her dad took a thoughtful sip of his coffee.  “I can remember the posters that used to paper her walls.  I never understood the long hair and make-up.  In my day, boys didn’t do that.  They were clean cut and respectable.”

Stephanie closed her eyes and lowered her head, the heat of embarrassment flooding her cheeks.  “Dad!”

Richie just laughed it off and laid his hand reassuringly over Stephanie’s on the table.  “You know, my dad used to say the same thing.  He didn’t get it either and he nearly had a fit when he found me rummaging through my mom’s closet looking for stuff to wear on stage.”

That got him twin astonished looks from Ed and Sue and the laugh he was looking for.  They chatted comfortably while they sipped and snacked. 

“Where in California do you live, Richie?”  Her mom voiced the question as she rose to clear the table.

He stacked his cup on his plate as she reached for them.  “I live in Calabasas.”

At her questioning look he continued.  “It’s in Los Angeles County west of San Fernando Valley, near the Santa Monica Mountains.”

Stephanie turned her hand under his, tangling their fingers together.  She had a feeling she knew where this bit of conversation was going. 

Her mother didn’t disappoint.

“Do your parents live out there too?”

Richie sat back in his chair, keeping his hand locked with hers.  “My mom lives in New Jersey.  I could never convince her to move the left coast.”  He paused briefly before forging ahead.  “My dad passed away a couple years ago.  I have a daughter that lives with me part time too.  Her mother and I share custody.”

“How old is your daughter?”  This was the first her father had been able to get a word in over her mother.  He didn’t seem surprised, just curious.

“She’ll be 15 in October.  She’s the light of my life.”  Richie glanced over at Stephanie, “well one of them anyway.”

Growing restless from sitting so long, Stephanie stood, tugging Richie up with her.  “I need to move a little, do you mind if I show Richie the rest of the house?”

Her mother waved her off, “not at all, go ahead.  Not that there’s much to see.”  She waited until she heard the pair go up the stairs before turning to her husband.  “She’s happy again.”

Ed nodded and added dishes to the dishwasher.  “She is and he seems like a nice enough fella.”  He closed the dishwasher door and turned to his wife, “but a rock star?”  He shook his head and followed his wife into the family room.  “Who would have guessed?”

Stephanie and Richie wended their way back down the stairs and she pulled him into the dining room.  “This used to be the living room.  Mom decided the dining room needed to be bigger, so they switched the two front rooms around.”  She remembered all too well the moving of furniture and ripping out of carpets.  It hadn’t been as fun as it sounded.  The staples left behind after the carpet was pulled out had been the bane of her existence that weekend.  Crawling around on her hands and knees with a pair of pliers pulling out the strays was not something she cared to repeat.  Ever.  She shook her head at the memory.

“What?”  Richie was watching her and wondering what she was thinking about.

“Just remembering some not so fun moments from when we helped with the switch.”  She winked at him, “don’t ever pull up your own carpets.  Have someone do it for you.”

He chuckled and looked around the room.  “I’ll remember that.  It looks good in here though.”  The walls were painted a shimmering ivory and the drapes were a rich burgundy with gold swag valances.  The pale gold carpet was thick under their feet and the long, dark dining table had a center runner the same rich burgundy and gold as the drapes.  His gaze landed on the antique, round soda fountain table in the corner that held a gallery of pictures.  The proud parents/grandparents had pictures of all the kids and grandkids spread around the table and across the top of the piano at the far end of the room.  He picked up one of Ben.  It was his last school picture.  “He was a good looking kid, sweetheart.”

She stepped up next to him and traced the boy’s face with her finger.  “He was.”  She gave a sad sigh.  “Everyone always said he looked like me when he was little, but the older he got, the more he looked like his father.”  Her voice was full of the love she had for her son and the loss that she would always feel for him.

Richie stroked her arm lightly as he studied the picture.  He could easily pick out the features she had shared with the boy.  A glance back at the table and he found a picture of all three of them.  “He was a good combination of both of you.”  He set the picture back in its spot on the table.

She studied the photos for a minute longer before turning and taking his hand.  “I think I’m ready to head back to the hotel now.”  She didn’t wait for him to answer before heading out of the dining room and into the family room.  Her mom was on the couch, her feet curled under her and her dad was in his recliner, nearly asleep.  “We’re going to go now.  We’ll be back tomorrow.”

Her mom and dad walked them to the door.  Jackets were pulled from hangers and shoes were slipped back on.  She hugged her parents, “dinner’s at 6 tomorrow?”

Her mother kissed her cheek, “yes, but you know you can come over earlier if you want.”

She kissed her dad.  “Okay mom, sounds good.”

Richie shook her father’s hand and her mother hugged him.  “It was nice to meet you both.”

~

Entering their room, Stephanie set her purse on the table and slipped off her coat and shoes.  She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, slowly, while she moved to the windows and watched the traffic go by on the busy street below.  It wasn’t as hard this time to be in her parents’ house.  That had to mean something, didn’t it?

Richie moved in behind her at the window.  Pushing her hair off her shoulder, nuzzled in, his lips skimming lightly up and down the length of her neck.  “You okay?”

She angled her head slightly, “yeah.  It’s just hard to be here sometimes.  Not as hard as it was a few months ago, but still.”

He nodded as his lips trailed up, around the delicate shell of her ear and pressed lightly against her temple.  “I know, sweetheart.  It’s hard for me to go home sometimes too.”  While his father had been gone longer than her son and husband, his mother’s house still held reminders for him.  Always would, he was sure.

Turning, she slid her arms up around his neck and pressed herself against him.  She didn’t want to think about this anymore, didn’t want to feel the heaviness of these emotions anymore.  Her lips found his, “take away my sadness, Rich.”  She kissed him fully, passionately.  “Make me feel good again.”

He kissed her back with equal fervor.  “I’ll make you feel better than good” he promised.

Stepping around her, he pulled the drapes closed and nudged her toward the bed.  She was working on the buttons of her shirt when his hand closed over hers.  “Let me.”

Her hands fell to her sides and she let him have his way.  The blouse slid off her shoulders, hung from her wrists where the cuffs caught.  A long finger slid lightly along her skin from the notch at the base of her throat and down, to where the clasp of her bra lay against her chest.  He watched, fascinated, as goose bumps bloomed along her skin under his touch.  That same finger moved lightly, tracing the curve of her breast and up to circle the hard little tip where it poked against the silk of her bra.  He gave the taut nub a slight pinch before stepping away from her. 

He turned on the bed side lamp and with two long strides reached the switch on the wall by the door.  The overhead light was extinguished, leaving them bathed in the softer glow of the single lamp.  He pulled his shirt off and tossed it over the nearest chair before moving back in front of her.  She was trying to work the cuffs of her shirt over her hands.  His hand on hers stopped the fight.  “Don’t?”

She looked up, the fire in his eyes had her nodding.  “Okay.”

His hand dropped from hers, his fingers traced the waistband of her jeans, coming together at the button.  With practiced ease, he had her jeans open and off before she could blink.  His fingers played along her skin, traced the lacy band of her panties and up to toy with the clasp of her bra.  “I love that you always match.”  Her panties and bra were the same shade of pale pink.  His fingers moved to trace maddening circles around her pebble hard nipples.

She dropped her head back, the prickly fingers of need coursed through her, the sensation gathered low, urging her toward the edge of ecstasy.  “Rich, I…”

He didn’t let up.  “I know, just let go.”  He pinched a little harder.  “Come this way, now.”  He flicked open the clasp of her bra and lowered his head, catching one pretty nipple with his lips, nipping lightly with his teeth.

With her hands bound, she couldn’t reach out, couldn’t touch, couldn’t do anything but what he quietly demanded.  She fell off the edge and cried out as mouth overwhelmed her and the need consumed her.

Easing her down onto the bed, he peeled her panties off and helped her up to where she could rest her head on the pillows.  “Can you let my hands go now?”

He shook his head, “not yet.”

She pouted “but, I want to touch you too.”

He looked from her to the headboard.  The slats seemed to be wide enough.  He loosened the cuffs of her shirt and helped her get it and her bra off.  “Put your hands up here.”  He brought them up to where he wanted them.  “Don’t let go, okay?”

She watched him rise to stand on the side of the bed.  His cock was a hard ridge in his jeans.  She licked her lower lip, “I could help you with that, you know.”

He chuckled and dug into his pocket, tossing the condoms onto the night table.  “Oh, you will darlin’, you will.”  He moved to the end of the bed, leaving his jeans in a heap on the floor, he crawled up between her thighs, her scent drawing him to her like a moth to a flame.  His tongue snake out, tasting a delicate path along her inner thigh.  The closer he got to his destination, the quicker he moved.  He wanted that sweet-tangy taste of her.  Craved it as sure as an addict craves his drug of choice.  He didn’t hold back.  He dived in and took that taste.  Then he took another, and another until he had her writhing on the sheets beneath him.

At the first swipe of his tongue, her hands gripped the slats of the headboard. At the second, her grip tightened until her knuckles turned white and that grip was all that was keeping her from flying apart.  

He was relentless.  With his lips and tongue he pushed her.  Held her on that precarious edge, but didn’t let her finish. 

She begged.  She pleaded.  And still he urged her on, pushed her higher.  Until, finally, with a not-so-gentle nudge, he closed his lips over the nerviest bit of her and sent her hurtling into sweet oblivion.

Rising to his knees he reached over and grabbed one of the foil packets from the night table.  Watching her, he blindly opened the package and rolled the condom down the rigid length of himself.  She was still gripping the headboard tightly and her eyes were still closed.   Moving back, he stroked her from shoulder to hip.  “Come on darlin’, open your eyes.”

He waited a beat and slowly, she blinked her eyes open, her kaleidoscope eyes were blurry with release.  When they met his he moved, entering her slowly, inching his way inside her.  She was still tight with the last dregs of her release coursing through her.  He hissed out a breath as he sank all the way into her.  “Fuck baby, you feel so good.”

She drew in a breath and let it out.  “God, Rich.  I’m not sure-“  She lost the thought when he shifted his hips. 

He braced his weight on his elbows and fluttered kisses across her forehead.  “Better than good, remember?”

She nodded and lifted her mouth to his.  Forgetting his command to keep her hands on the headboard, she let it go and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, wrapped herself around him.  “So much better than good.”

 
They moved together, and it was more than she could have ever asked for.