Welcome!

Thank you for stopping by. This is a short story, the second in my "Encounters" series. This one is complete. I intended for it to be one of the "Quick Pic-Fics" I was working on, but it just got too darned long!

I hope you enjoy reading my story.

Sterling, this is for you.

Here is the link to the beginning of the story. Just keep clicking on "Newer Post" at the bottom of each chapter to progress through.

Please, share with a friend, and leave a comment or send me an e-mail and let me know what you think.

Also, if you have other ideas for future "Encounters", please, drop me a line!

Faithfully,
Hathor

TheGoddessHathor@gmail.com

Epilogue

Jen and Richie emerged from the other room a few minutes later, hand-in-hand, both with wet hair from the shower. She collapsed next to me on the couch, still basking in her afterglow. What a hell of a night.

Jon took my keys and had someone bring the car around. We four hung around chatting comfortably about nothing until it showed up.

I had to ask the question. Just had to. “So guys, what was it? What made us stand out from all the thousands of other girls out there? Not that we’re complaining, mind you, just curious.”

Jon and Richie looked at each other, and said in unison, “Your clothes.” Jon elaborated. “There you were, one dark, one light, just like us. You were labeled for us, having a good time dancing together…”

Richie interrupted, “And looking damned hot, too, don’t forget”

“Yes,” Jon agreed, “there was that. We just saw what we liked, and here you are. Regrets?”

“Hell no,” we exclaimed together. Jen and I exchanged knowing looks. Little did these two know that we had tickets for the second show they added. That'll be our little surprise.

Another steamy kiss apiece, and then we were walking out to our car with them. After they left, we collapsed into the car, looked at each other and screeched with delight. We could not wait for the next night's show. After that outburst, I started the car, and we made our way toward home.

On the way home we made a pact, Jen and I: We’ll always go see Bon Jovi together, and always in these clothes.



Goddess’ Note: This was intended to be a Quick Pic-Fic, but got to be too long. Once I got going, I couldn’t stop, so Sterling, you get your very own Encounter! Thanks for the inspiration!

Goddess' Note Two: I've been asked, inspired, etc., for Jen and Richie's story. Look for that coming soon!

Chapter Four

I linked my legs around Jon’s waist, and sending up a silent prayer of thanks for all the damned stairs I climb every day, pulled him into me. He groaned as he slid into my warm, wet heat. He stroked slowly in and out of me, his hands braced on either side of my head. I pushed at him so he was kneeling between my legs. He reached behind him to grab my ankles, and lifted my legs onto his shoulders. The change of angle had him deeper into me than I thought possible, and had me screaming his name again. Jon’s head was thrown back, the veins on either side sticking out as he thrust into me.

My name was a prayer on his lips when he came. You know that line in their song, “come and make me feel it”? Well, I felt it. Felt it all the way through my entire body. His pulsing triggered my orgasm, and I nearly bent in half, lifting up off the couch. Didn’t know I bent that way. Jon lowered my legs and himself to lay on top of me again, kissing me gently, and brushing a few sweaty strands of hair away from my face. He kissed the tip of my nose, and started to shift off of me, but I held fast.

“Don’t move, not yet,” I begged. “Please. I like the feel of your weight on me.”

He chuckled. “Whatever you say, Sterling.”

I held him on me, running my hands up and down his back lightly, making him make these little happy noises in the back of his throat. I was sated and happy, and God, so tired. I could fall asleep right now, all snuggled up to Jon’s nice warm body. Sigh. Figured that was a bad plan though. I turned my head to look at Jon, who had his head pillowed on my shoulder. His eyes were closed and he looked like an angel with a self-satisfied smile on his face. I kissed him gently, and he opened those piercing blue eyes. They were still a bit cloudy with desire, and I was pretty sure I would forever see that face when I close my eyes at night.

“What are you thinking?” he asked me.

“Hmm? Nothing really – I don’t think my brain is working quite yet.” I brushed the hair out of his face and stroked his cheek, over and over again. “Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, trailing a hand up and down my side. “Just curious I guess.”

“Well, let’s not muck this up with a lot of thinking,” I said to him. He raised one eyebrow at me and I continued. “Really, this was fantastic, more than, actually, but I don’t have any illusions.”

“This doesn’t, I mean, I don’t – ” he started to talk, but I cut him off with a kiss.

“That’s really nice to hear,” I said, and I meant it. “But I know this is nothing more than a very enjoyable evening, and a night I will never forget. I hope you don’t either, but, as I said, I have no illusions.”

“Sterling, you are not a woman one forgets.” He looked so earnest, I wanted to believe him. Hell, I may as well. It made me feel better.

“Thank you. Now,” I kissed him soundly, “enough of that. Where’s your shower? I’m feeling a little dirty, and not in a good way.” He laughed, and rolled off me the wrong way and fell to the floor, making me laugh out loud while he swore.

We made our way to the bathroom, and shared a steamy shower. We made love again, tenderly, and dried each other with big, fluffy towels before dressing again, me in my same old clothes, Jon in new ones. He stood behind me to comb out my hair, and kissed my neck before locking eyes with me in the mirror. It was time. We made our way out to the common room together, holding hands.

Chapter Three

Jon’s eyes rolled back at the contact, and his head dropped back on the couch. I took the opportunity to lick and kiss his neck, tasting the sweat and musk of one very dirty boy. Yummy. Jon’s hands were clasped around my hips, trying to control my movement. I had the leverage, however, and did as I damn well pleased. I rode him like my life depended on it, slamming down on him over and over again. His breath was getting ragged and he was panting, and I swear to God, when he looked at me, it was with a mixture of real desire – not just the look of a guy who was getting his rocks off – and wonder.

We were both so keyed up from the excitement of the concert that we came together quickly, laughing at our randiness. I stayed in Jon’s lap, kissing him and touching his face and chest and shoulders and hair, and God help me, I wanted more. I rocked gently in his lap, and he chuckled at me. “Darlin’, I’m not twenty anymore. I need a minute here.”

“Whatever,” I said, distracted by the hair on his chest and with torturing the tiny hard nubs hidden within. Jon threw me off his lap onto my back on the couch, and followed me down, kissing me soundly. He straddled my hips, and ran his hands over my body, lingering on my breasts. He plucked and pulled at my nipples until I thought I’d scream from it. Jon saw me struggling to hold back, and chuckled.

“Darlin’,” he said, lowering toward me, “These rooms are sound-proofed. Make any kind of noise you like” He pinched one nipple while he rolled his tongue across the other. I arched from the couch, screaming out, and grabbing at Jon’s head. I dragged him up for a kiss, forcing him to lay on top of me. God, the weight of him was heaven. He shifted a little to one side so he wouldn’t crush me. I almost complained about the loss and dragged him back on top of me. Almost.

Jon’s clever fingers moved from my breast to my hip, and trailed up and down my thigh while he continued kissing me. The light contact with those rough-tipped fingers was heavenly. Every nerve ending was wide awake now, and screaming for more. I think I whimpered, because Jon broke the kiss to chuckle at me.

“What’s the matter, baby,” he said, huskily.

“Nothing at all,” I said back, my voice a whisper.

“Huh, so I should keep doing this then?” he said, as he continued to lightly stroke my thighs. They involuntarily opened, just a little, but he noticed and smiled. “Or, should I do this instead,” he said, and he lightly stroked at my core, making me scream his name and grab hard at his shoulder. “Yes,” he said. “I think this is what you want. Isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, not really knowing what in the hell I was agreeing to. As long as he wouldn’t stop, I’d agree to just about anything.

Jon continued his light stroking, and no matter how hard I tried to get him to increase the pressure, he wouldn’t. The pressure was agonizingly sweet, and I seriously thought I would die from it. My heart was pounding, and my breathing coming in little short pants. I felt the waves coming closer, and I reached down for Jon, who was hard again, but he pushed my hand away; breaking contact with me, and causing the waves to recede.

“No, Sterling,” he said, smiling down at me. “This is just for you.” He kissed me again, and started the gentle torture all over again. This time, the waves came quickly, building up higher and higher as I rushed closer to release. Jon didn’t increase the pressure at all. Not even a little bit. He kept me on the edge for what seemed like an eternity, When my legs tensed, he drove two fingers hard into me, and I screamed his name. Loudly. Really loudly. Wave after wave crashed over me, making me convulse around and next to him. He bent to capture my screams with his mouth, and I could feel him grinning while he pounded away at me. I felt the pressure building again, and this time, I wasn’t taking no for an answer.

I roughly pushed his hand away from my body, grabbed Jon’s cock, and pulled so he had no choice but to settle between my legs. Well, he had a choice, but I don’t think he wanted me ripping his member from his body.

Chapter Two

I’m not sure either of us heard the rest of the concert. We were preoccupied with the little cards in our back pockets, and I kept feeling back there to make sure mine was still there. I swear, my ass has never been felt up so much as it was that last hour. When the final encores were done, and the band made their bows, Jon and Richie pointed at us and winked. We waved back and smiled. Here we go!

We waited for most of the crowd to thin, and found a security guy and showed him our passes. He looked shocked, but brought us back to the dressing area, and it was empty. Huh. Jen and I walked around, touching everything, and smelling some things. I swear, we were THIS CLOSE to filching some small trinkets to take as souvenirs. We refrained, though. Jen put on one of Richie’s hats, and said to me, “Can you believe this? We must have done something right in a past life to deserve this!”

“No kidding,” I said. I was brushing my hair with Jon’s hairbrush. (Leave me alone – don’t give me crap about this).

“God, where do you think they are?” Jen asked. The Stetson looked good on Jen. Richie should let her keep it.

“Don’t know. What the hell are we doing here?” I still couldn’t quite believe we were here.

“Waiting. I don’t do good waiting.”

“Me neither. I have an idea.” I took out my camera and took Jen’s picture with Richie’s hat. She took my picture sitting in Jon’s chair at the hair station. I think we burned at least a gig taking pictures of us touching everything. Sigh. SO can’t wait to gloat about this!

The door opened, freezing us in our tracks. Jon and Richie rushed in, talking to someone over their shoulders. “Thanks everyone. We need to get showered and out of here. Enjoy the party.” They stopped when they saw us.

“Well, well, well,” Richie said. “You came. We weren’t sure you would.”

Jen, being a smart ass, tipped Richie’s hat over her eye and answered, “Oh, we will; we just haven’t yet. We were waiting for you.” God, I wanted to smack her, but the guys just laughed.

Jon came over to me and took me in his arms. (I love saying that!) He buried his face in my neck, and nipped at the skin there, making me shiver. I thrust my thigh between his and rubbed it up and down on his erection. He groaned and pulled me unceremoniously to a door in the back of the room which he flung open. “Last chance to back out,” he said.

“Now why in the hell would I do that?” I asked him, incredulously. “Get in there.” I all but pushed him through the open door and slammed it behind me, locking it. The last thing I heard before the door closed was Richie laughing. Let him. There was no way I wasn’t going to be a full participant in this little adventure. I toed off my boots, taking a couple of inches off my height. As I walked toward him, I stripped the t-shirt off over my head and dropped it behind me. He stood motionless, watching me with those eyes.

I suddenly felt a little nervous because he wasn’t doing anything. Mustering up my own smart-assness, I said, “Are you backing out?”

“Hell no,” he said, smirking. “Just enjoying the show.”

I smiled. “Don’t you know, this is an interactive show?”

Jon growled and closed the distance between us in two steps. He wrapped his arms around me and mashed his mouth to mine, and our tongues dueled. God, he tasted like sweat and beer and lust and cigarettes. I threaded my fingers into his hair and held on for dear life. He kissed his way to my neck and bit me gently, making me groan. I pulled his shirt out of his jeans and yanked it up and over his head. He tore my bra from me, and we were skin-to-skin. The soft little hairs on his chest rubbed gently at my over-excited flesh making me tremble while our mouths fused together again. We walked backwards until Jon hit the edge of an oversized couch, and he sat hard, pulling me onto his lap.

I shifted to straddle him, and ground against him. Good Lord, that felt good. Jon’s hands fumbled at the buttons of my jeans and I had to stand up for him to peel them down. (Told ya they were tight.) I pulled Jon up to join me, and yanked at his jeans until they were around his ankles, and he kicked them off. I kicked out of mine and pushed him back onto the couch. I made to straddle him again, and he stopped me before I could lower onto him by pushing a finger into me. I knelt above him, hovering, while he worked his magic. I soon had his hand sopping wet, and he smirked at me while he withdrew to lick his fingers. “Mmmm. You were right. You do taste better than you smell.”

My sudden descent onto his hard cock wiped that smirk right off his beautiful face.

Chapter One

"Holy shit! He did NOT just lick his lips at me," I said to my friend, Jen, who was with me at the concert.

"The hell he didn't," she said back, envy flashing briefly in her eyes.

We had front row seats during the HAND tour in Detroit. Fantastic views (of course) and oh my God, they were so unbelievably close! Jon had played to our part of the audience all night, throwing us looks and winks and whatnot, and we played right back. I mean, who could resist?! Besides, we looked hot and we knew it. We were both wearing tight, low-rise jeans with cropped t-shirts. Mine was white, with Jon's beautiful, smiling face on it, and Jen's was black, with "Sambora" spelled in gothic letters across the front.

The boys were in fine form, as usual, and had all of us in the audience dancing and singing our heads off. Jon and Richie had the two of us more than turned on, and we were playing it up; dancing with each other without taking our eyes off the boys. They saw us too -- it would be impossible not to, given where we were. Jen had a major thing for Richie, but when Jon threw me that look, the expression on her face was "Richie who?" Ha, ha, ha. Sorry Jen, this one's all for me.

God, he's all sweaty and I just LOVE him in that tight black muscle shirt -- he looks like such a bad boy; the kind of bad that makes you clench in all the right places just thinking about it.

They were singing Bad Name – the slutty version from This Left. That bluesy, sexy music paired with Jon's honey-sweet, whiskey-roughened voice. He was shaking that scrummy ass in time with the music, flicking his head back and forth...

Sorry, got distracted for a minute there.

Anyway, about ten seconds ago, when he sang "paint that smile on your pretty lips," I blew him a kiss. Nothing raunchy or anything, and I'll be damned if he didn't smile at me. After he sang "kiss me once baby, then it's bye-bye," he looked straight at me and tossed me a sexy look (although, that's really the only look he has) and licked at those pouty, plump, perfectly delectable lips. I can die a happy woman now; Jon just personally gave me an orgasm. Like I said: holy shit!

I turned to say something to Jen, but noticed she was in her own place. Richie was playing his solo, and doing that jazz scat with the music. Jen's eyes were glued to the guitarist, and I'm pretty sure she was in the throes of her own Richiegasm. I left her alone.

When I turned back to the stage, there was Jon, crouching down in front of us at the edge of the platform, singing. I elbowed Jen roughly in the side, and she gaped at him. He, of course, smirked at us, knowing full well what was going through our heads at that moment. Jon caught a glimpse of Jen's "Sambora" shirt and motioned for Richie to come over. 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. Goddamn, their pants were tight. You could see everything.

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 at us (at least it looked that way to me), and then Jon started talking.

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

"Yeah, brother," Richie answered.

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

"Ain't that convenient," Richie said, laughing.

“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. Jen 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.” Of course we do, you fool!

Jon nodded to the BIG security guards who lifted us up to sit on the stage. We looked at each other and giggled. Like teenaged schoolgirls. Jon took my hand to help me up, and Richie took Jen’s and I lost track of her. Jen who? I had my arms around the waist of a tall lean, gorgeous hunk of sweaty man, and he had his around mine. The low-rise of my jeans neatly left an inch or two of flesh showing, allowing Jon to touch my skin. His touch electrified me. I could feel the shock of his warm, rough fingers all the way to my leather-boot-clad feet.

He pulled me in close to dance, and I could feel his arousal against my thigh. I pressed in slightly, making him chuckle into my ear, “Don’t start something you aren’t gonna finish, darlin’.” Good Lord, I nearly tripped on my own feet.

“I’m game if you are, sweetheart,” I said back, playfully. I didn’t think he heard me because of the monitors in his ears, and I certainly didn’t think he’d take me up on the offer, but he leaned back to smile that megawatt smile at me. Can’t say it enough: holy shit!

“You’re on,” he said, all serious. He asked me, “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Rosa,” I said on a whisper, "but my friends call me Sterling".

“Sterling, huh?” he tried out my nickname on his lips. Burying his head in my neck, he inhaled deeply. Leaning back to look at me, he asked, “Well, Sterling, do you taste as good as you smell?”

“Better,” I answered. What the hell. “Wanna find out?”

Jon laughed and pulled me in for a quick peck, then spun me around a few more times, and danced me over to Richie and Jen (I don’t think Jen knew that I was even there – she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Richie’s chocolate-brown eyes and her hands were splayed across his bronzed chest. Good night, Gracie!) He nodded to Richie and Jen and I found ourselves dipped over strong arms, and kissed firmly on the mouth. When they spun us back to the edge of the stage and the waiting arms of the security guys, we got smacked in the ass. Jen laughed, but when I turned around to see Jon strutting away, I raced over and smacked his ass for him. No way he was getting the last word, so to speak. (For the record, it’s very tight. My hand bounced back!)

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) we were besieged with questions by the others around us “What did he say?” “How did he taste?” “Why’d he pick you?” You know, all that sort of thing. Jen and I just held onto each other’s hands, and smiled. Things were going to get interesting.