Ch 30 ~ Bi-Pole-er

With Rachel and their “FunFest” keeping him both happy and invigorated, it had been little or no effort for Jon to make the Vegas show live up to its usual high-energy standards.  He was pleasantly exhausted and satisfied as he walked to his dressing room.  Knowing he’d given his all and a damn good performance, he mentally moved on to the rest of his night – Rachel and the after party.  If he hustled, he could be showered before she joined him backstage.

Hopping in the shower, he found himself singing an old Bob Seger tune as he lathered away the stage sweat.  Despite the physically demanding evening, he was in a good mood and he didn’t have to wonder at the source – it was all Rachel.

There was simply a greater sense of contentment when she was around.  Period.  Like he’d told her before, home was wherever she was.  As long as he could wake up beside her and know she’d be there when he dragged his weary ass into bed at the end of the night, he was happy.  Hell, her presence even made the “phony” and “tacky” Las Vegas feel like home.

Jon chuckled as he lifted his face to the showerhead to rinse the soap away.  He, personally, was grateful to Las Vegas and it now held a very special place in his heart.   It was the place that had finally given them a chance to spend more than a couple hours together.  It was where they’d effortlessly reverted right back into the comfortable rapport they’d had from the early days in Jersey – both in and out of the bedroom. 

He found her just as intoxicating today as he had back in those early days.  Maybe moreso, now that he’d taken the time to really look and listen without his over-inflated ego obstructing the view.  Emotionally, spiritually, mentally – and certainly physically – he felt a connection to her that superseded anything else he’d ever known.  It gave him a deep-seated appreciation for her and for their ability to work beyond the hurts they’d carelessly inflicted upon one another. 

It was a blessing and he knew it.  Couples so often destroyed themselves beyond repair and the fact that he and Rachel were back together again, fighting for the love that they had instead of throwing their hands up and walking away was nothing but God smiling down on Jon Bon Jovi. 

There was no way in hell was he taking that for granted.  He was determined to be a better man and not make the same mistakes he’d made with her before.  The months without her had made for a wretched, miserable and lonely Jonny.  Even the vaguest thought of returning to that kind of existence…  Well, he had enough balls to admit it scared the living shit out of him.

No way, no how, not fuckin’ happenin' if I have a fighting breath left in my body.

He had just stepped out of the shower, his thoughts drifting to the after party, when he heard a knock on his dressing room door.  Jon grinned as he wrapped the towel around his waist.

Rachel.

“It’s open!”

His grin faded a bit when the door swung inward.  It wasn’t Rachel’s blonde head that came bobbing through the door, it was his tour manager, Paul.  And, by all appearances, he appeared to be flying solo.

“Hey Pauly.  Is Rachel with you?”

The big, burly man shook his head, looking unhappy.  “No.  I asked Mike to give us a minute before bringing her back.” 

Jon didn’t like the idea of Rachel being left on the arena floor and trying to get backstage on her own, but he liked the somber face of his tour manager even less.  “Why?  What’s up?”

“Ken just let me know TMZ’s running a story from some woman who claims she spent the night with you in Seattle – and that she wasn’t alone.  She contends you fucked her AND her girlfriend, then sent them packing.   Seems she didn’t like the way you dismissed her and claims you used Viagra.  Is there anything to it?”

Jon’s good mood was flushed down the toilet in a giant ‘whoosh’, leaving a royally pissed-off Jersey boy in its wake.  The press had been kind to him in his career but, then again, there hadn’t been much to be unkind about.  He was rock music’s poster-boy for philanthropy, good deeds and all that crap.  All of that ultimately outweighed who a single man chose to get his rocks off with, so there was no doubt the story would die a quiet death in a few days. 

He was mostly annoyed that it required any kind of “dealing with” at all, let alone tonight when he was looking forward to the after party with his friends and his girl.

“That’s bullshit.  I’ve never needed Viagra a day in my life.” 

“So the rest is true true?” Paul pressed.

Jon’s brow was still sharply creased with aggravation as his shoulder lifted carelessly.  “Yeah, I spent some time with a couple girls.”

“Jonny,” his manager explained patiently, even though he now looked as annoyed as Jon felt.  “If you don’t tell me about this shit I can’t protect you.  You know that.”  He sighed the put-upon sigh of one who has to deal with idiots.  “No confidentiality clauses were signed, I assume.”

Jon was the one used to being in the power seat and he didn’t like being put on the spot like this.   The other man’s accusatory tone didn’t sit well and had him instantaneously bristling.  “That’s not my fuckin’ job, Paul.  That’s yours.  Anybody that gets near me is supposed to sign all that shit.  One of the girls was the rep from one of the radio stations!  How did she get that close to me without it???”

“I don’t know.  I’m gonna have to find out, obviously.  Who’s the other girl?”

That night in Seattle wasn’t one of Jon’s more lucid memories.  He had a vague recollection of the women, but hadn’t given them another thought since the hotel door had closed. 

“I can’t remember – if I ever knew.  I think she was a vendor… or a cheerleader or some shit.  I dunno… whatever.   Get ahold of Ken and make it go away.”  This is why he paid his publicist a sum that put him in the same tax bracket as Jesus.  “I don’t wanna deal with this shit right now.  I’ve just gotten things back on track with Rachel, and I wanna have a good time tonight.”

The knock on the door effectively ended the conversation between artist and tour manager.  A beautifully familiar blonde head popped around the door, filling Jon with a calming peace, but the pleasant smile Rachel was wearing went stiff when she sensed the palpable tension in the room. 

“I’m sorry.  Am I interrupting?” she inquired, stopping just inside the doorway.

“Nah, just work bullshit.” Jon tossed the towel he was drying his hair with to the floor and reached his arm out for her.  She immediately stepped into him for the kiss he’d been silently requesting.  “Paul’ll handle it.”

“I’ll need to go over this with you later tonight, JonBoy…”

“Yeah.  Whatever.  I’m gonna change and go to the party.  Let me know what you find out.”

“Rachel,” Paul politely nodded in her direction as he stepped by.  “Nice to see you again.”

Rachel wasn’t sure what had happened between the two men, but the tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with the proverbial knife.   There was a sense of foreboding in the air that made her arm hair stand on end, but whatever the issue, it apparently had nothing to do with her.  She was happy to accept Paul’s kiss to her cheek as he left the room and was even happier to be alone with Jon.

Then again, happy was her middle name tonight.  If your boyfriend couldn’t sit with you at a concert, Jose Cuervo was a pretty damn good substitute.

Slipping an arm around his bare, damp waist, Rachel curled into him and possessively kissed the equally damp curls of hair on his chest.  Those women drooling over his chest could just eat their hearts out.  He belonged to Rachel.

“Yanno….” she breathed with admiration.  “You really are amazing at this rock star thing.  I hope it doesn’t sound condescending, but I was very proud of you tonight.  Even prouder to call you mine.”

He hooked a finger around her chin, lifting it for a kiss and not bothering to remove his lips before asking, “Why’s that, baby?”

“You’re a different man on the stage,” she purred, hands beginning to meander over his chest as though they had a mind of their own.  “Different, but somehow still the same, only grander.  I know you’ve worked hard to get where you are, and you were magnificent tonight.”

“Magnificent, huh?  That’s gonna be tough to top.”

Rachel pressed herself against his towel draped body, noting with pleasure that the towel was becoming a tent in certain spots.  “But think of all the fun we’re gonna have trying to top it,” she giggled.  

Jon’s eyebrow kicked up and he regarded her in that certain “knowing” way.  How could he not know?  She wasn’t making any secret of the fact that she was horny. In fact, she was about a tequila shot away from humping his leg.  The thought of that hairy thigh scraping between her oh-so-aware inner thighs… 

“I could probably do magnificent, if that’s what you’re up for tonight,” he moaned as she wrapped herself around him like a stripper pole.

“I want you to top magnificent tonight.  Do you still have any energy left for me, or did you waste it all on those hot, horny women in the pit?” she purred, wondering if she could hang upside down on him like those exotic dancers did their poles.

Jon pulled back and looked straight into her eyes.  “What have you been drinking, young lady???”

“Straight tequila.”

“I’m singing my guts out and you’re doing shots at the side of my stage, huh?”

“Only two shots,” she clarified, even though she knew he didn’t give a shit how many it had been as long as he was going to reap the benefits.  “And I sipped them.  Kinda.  But I have a healthy buzz and it’s focused on working your pole.”

“Thank you, Jesus.”  Jon looked to the ceiling and crossed himself, his erection now full and hard enough to pull the towel loose.  It slithered silently to the floor, revealing his intention to immediately take her up on the offer. 

“Now?” she questioned with wide eyes as her panties became sodden with excitement.  She’d never had sex in a dressing room before.

“Don’t be a cocktease, Rach.  I’m hard as a rock and it ain’t goin’ away on its own.  You started this… now you gotta put your money where your mouth is.  Or put your mouth where my dick is.  Whatever.”

As his hands slipped under her sweater, she wrapped hers around the length of him and stroked.   She was throbbing almost as intently as he was.  “Aren’t you gonna lock the door?”

“No,” he grunted, flicking the clasp of her bra. “Isn’t gonna take long enough to bother with it.” 

He ripped the sweater over the top of her head, sending her left earring flying across the room, before releasing the button on her jeans.  The zipper slid open with a naughty hiss and Rachel squirmed as he slid the denim and her sopping panties down and over her feet.  She was buck-naked except for the sexiest shoes she’d ever owned, and that turned her on with the force of two more tequila shots.

He pushed her up against the door, removing any lingering reservations she might have had about privacy, and literally pawed at her body.  Jon wasn’t even pretending to do the foreplay thing and that suited Rachel just fine.  All she really wanted was to feel that hard cock split her wide open and pound her into a quivering mass of jelly. 

She nearly screamed with delight when he hoisted her by fiercely gripped buttocks, spread her wide and rammed into her with a guttural grunt. 

“That’s it, baby,” she heard him say.  “Like a fuckin’ vice…..”

Rachel bit down on her lip and closed her eyes as he ravaged her like a primal, Neanderthal male.  Nothing existed outside of him, her and the happy haze of lust and tequila.