Chapter 1

Goddess’ Note: This is Jen’s perspective of The Concert. If the story seems familiar that’s why!

"Holy shit! He did NOT just lick his lips at me," Sterling said to me.

"The hell he didn't," I retorted, a little pissed that the object of her obsession paid attention to her, and mine didn’t.

We had front row seats during the HAND tour in Detroit. Fantastic views (of course) and DAYUM, they were so unbelievably close, we could practically smell them! Jon had noticed my friend and played to her and therefore our part of the audience all night, throwing looks and winks and whatnot our way, and we couldn’t help but play right back. I mean, I’m a devout Richie Gal, always have been, but really, when Jon does his thing? There’s just no ignoring him. I mean, he is scrumptious – absolutely delicious. Even I have that moment of "Richie, who?" ya know?

So Sterling and I, we were having a hell of a time; singing along and dancing with each other. We made quite a pair tonight. We looked hot and we knew it. We were both wearing tight, low-rise jeans with cropped t-shirts. Hers was white, with Jon's face on it, and mine was tight and black, accenting my most noticeable feature, with "Sambora" spelled in gothic letters across the front. I saw pictures of Richie in a similar shirt and had to have one. I know – that’s obsessive, right? Yep, you pegged me. I’d have a hat collection too, if I could find good ones that didn’t cost a small fortune.

Anyway, the boys were in very fine form, as expected, and had all of us in the audience dancing and singing our hearts out. Richie had me more than a little turned on, and I could see Jon was doing the same for Sterling. We were playing up the excitement, dancing close with each other without taking our eyes off the boys. For some reason, guys simply can’t ignore two women dancing together. I know they noticed us.

They were finally singing ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’, and it was my favorite version, the one from This Left. It has that bluesy, sexy music, Jon's sweet voice, and Richie. God, Richie. Did I tell you how he looked? Fan-frickin-tastic, that’s how. He was gloriously sweaty and all clad in tight leather and had a scarf tied around his hat – I love when he does that. His vest was barely covering anything, and showed his arms to perfection. God, just imagining those around me. And Richie’s guitar? What he does with his hands on that guitar could make a nun wet…

Sorry, got distracted for a minute there.

Anyway, about ten seconds ago, when Jon sang "paint that smile on your pretty lips," Sterling blew him a kiss, and damned if he didn’t take the bait, looking straight at her and licking at those pouty, plump, perfectly delectable lips. It’s SO exasperating that she always gets what she wants. Tonight, she wants Jon, and it seems that he wants her, too.

Lucky bitch.

I say that with nothing but love.

No, really.

I didn’t have any more time to obsess about my Karma deficiency – Richie’s solo was happening now. Holy hell. I might have been fine if he just played, but when he started to scat, his mouth up close to the mic, and his eyes closed, and that little shoulder thing he does? I was done for. I felt the little pulse through the ol’ nether regions, and the dampness that comes with it. Pun intended. Ha, ha, ha. God, to feel those fingers play me like they do his guitar. And his talkbox? What I wouldn’t give to trade places for just one song…

I was jolted out of my fantasy by Sterling, who gave me a hard elbow to the ribs. I turned to say “What the hell?” and stopped. There Jon was, crouching down in front of us at the edge of the platform, singing. I could do nothing but stare. Christ on a crutch, he was literally three feet away from me. If I wanted to risk the wrath of the security guards, I could have reached out and pinched his cheek. The lower cheek.

Jon, of course, was smirking at us, knowing full well what was going through our heads at that moment. Jon eyeballed my "Sambora" shirt and smiled, then motioned for Richie to come over. No frickin’ way! Richie turned to Bobby and said something, and the other guitarist picked up the lead while Richie unstrapped his guitar, grabbed his mic, and strutted to the edge of the stage to squat with Jon. I was rooted to the spot. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t move if my ass suddenly burst into flames. And damn were their pants ever tight. Absolutely delicious and let me tell you, the photos don’t do them justice. Not by a long shot.

By now, the women near us were trying to get around or through us to get their hands on these two Gods before us – who could blame them! The two of them were singing to us (at least Richie was, I have no idea who Jon was singing to), and then Jon distracted me by talking.

"Hey, Rich," he said, in his aged whiskey voice.

"Yeah, brother," Richie answered, his own voice smooth as satin.

"Ya see these two fine ladies right here? They're labeled, one for you, one for me."

"Ain't that convenient," Richie said, laughing. God, I clenched again. He looked right at me when he said that.

“Yeah, it sure is.” Jon grinned at us, and continued talking. “D’ya suppose they want to come on up here and dance with us?” The crowd screamed. Sterling and I had to grip each other to keep from falling down.

Richie laughed. “Brother, I think those two want to do more than dance.” No shit, Dick Tracey!

Jon nodded to the BIG security guards who lifted us up to sit on the stage. They winked at us, trying to get us to relax. Uh-uh. Not happening. I, at least, was hyper aware of everything. Sterling and I looked at each other and giggled. Like little schoolgirls. I mean, OH MY GOD! If this isn’t a dream come true for any true Jovi fan, I don’t know what is. Richie took my hand to help me up, and Jon took Sterling’s and I lost track of her. Sterling who? I found myself being held by those incredibly strong, muscular arms. Sigh. I had three inch heels on, enhancing my 5’8” frame, and I still had to tilt my head back to look into those gorgeous milk-chocolate eyes.

Richie pulled me in close, and whispered into my ear, "nice shirt." His breath was warm and sweet and it tickled a little. Oh yeah.

"Thanks," I said, smiling. "I like it."

He danced me around a little, making me dizzy, although I don’t think that was from the dancing. It was the man. I let out an unsteady breath, and couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He was just perfection. His dark hair curled slightly around his collar, and his chest was smooth and, well, just perfect, I was tempted to pull at the leather thongs around his neck, but with my luck, I’d break the damn things. I contented myself with just staring.

Richie laughed at my awestruck expression. “What’s you’re name, darlin’?”

I had no idea. What the hell is my name? “Uh, Jennifer.” I think. That sounds right.

“Sorry Jennifer; I didn’t know that was a hard question.” Oh, my name from his lips is the best thing I’ve ever heard. “I’ll try something easier. How are you enjoying yourself so far?”

“This is just about the best night of my life,” I said. I haven’t blinked in about three minutes now, and my eyes were starting to feel it.

Richie put on a pout. “Just about?”

“Well yeah,” I said, before I could stop myself. “It would be the best night if we were naked and horizontal together.” Uh-oh. My name I can’t manage to say, but this I can?

Richie just looked at me, with a sly smile on his face. His eyes darkened and narrowed just a little. “That can certainly be arranged, Jennifer,” he said in my ear, before licking it.

Aaaah!

I was pretty sure I was gonna pass out from that contact, and I had to brace myself on Richie’s smooth, tanned skin. I know, poor me. I could feel his heart pounding, and I told myself it was me that was doing that to him. Suddenly, I sensed someone next to me and next thing I knew, I was being dipped deeply and given a smacking kiss. Jesus, I was never going to come down from this high. I don’t think I can ever wear these jeans again, either.

Richie spun me back around to the edge of the stage and the waiting arms of the security guys. Damn. Why couldn’t they have kept singing that song for another hour or two? Huh? Damn that Karma again. My legs were shaking so much that a quick swat to the ass nearly sent me off the edge of the stage. Sterling recovered from her swat better than I did – she raced over to smack Jon’s ass for him. That was awesome. I wish I had thought of that. With Richie, not Jon.

As the security guards set us down on the floor, they slipped cards into our back pockets, and whispered, “pass for after” in our ears. Whoa. When our feet were firmly back on the arena floor (physically at least) Sterling and I just held onto each other’s hands, and smiled. Things were going to get interesting. I was gonna get naked and horizontal with Richie Sambora. Holy hell. Thank God I shaved today.