I slowly came to consciousness, not knowing where or when or barely who I was. I had one hell of a cottony-stale flavor in my mouth, and something hard and musky rested under my cheek.
I cracked my eyes open and had to wince against the early morning sun streaming in through the window. Where the hell am I? Finally, the hardness under my cheek registered, and I noticed I was laying on smooth brown skin. Acres of it. The events of the evening slammed back all at once, and I gasped. I remembered the interlude in the alley. The cab. The bed. The shower afterwards. Then more in the middle of the night...
Holy hell, I just spent the night fucking around with Richie Sambora.
The room smelled of cigarettes and sex, and I was mostly numb from the waist down. Richie had his arm curled possessively around me, and when I shifted slightly, his gorgeous eyes cracked open. Briefly, he smiled at me, his adorable dimples winking, then his eyelids drifted shut again, and his breathing evened out.
“Oh no,” I whispered softly. “What have I done?”
I tried to stretch, but everything was sore as well as numb. How the fuck is that possible? What’s more, how the hell was I supposed to function when I couldn’t feel my legs? I allowed myself a moment to revel in the deliciously illicit feel of Richie’s rented sheets against my body, and his warm body against mine. But I knew this wasn’t where I belonged. I needed to get out of here.
Slowly, so I wouldn’t jostle the B-I-G man beside me, I slid from the sheets, shivering a little bit in the cool hotel room air. I padded into the bathroom and cleaned up as best I could in the sink – I didn’t want to run the shower and risk waking him up.
I snuck like a thief into the sitting room and put on my clothes. I went back to the threshold of the door – to torture myself, I guess – and looked in on Richie’s sleeping form. God, he was beautiful. The sheets were pulled up to his waist, and his hands were thrown wide. I could see that the sheet was tented a bit, and I lamented that I was six kinds of stupid to be walking out on this now, but couldn’t help it. I couldn’t bear to have him wake up and have that “what the fuck was I thinking” moment right in front of me.
No way.
But, I can’t just leave like a hooker in the night.
I crossed to the desk and opened the middle drawer. Hotels were nothing if not consistent. Taking a piece of hotel stationery and pen, I sat down to write a note.
Rich,
What a fantastic night. It was better than I had dared hope for. Far better. You are absolutely amazing, and I will never EVER forget anything of our time together. I don’t think I can go into Smitty’s again without smiling.
I’m looking forward to the shows this weekend – I’ll be seeing you and remembering every second.
~ Aimee
I tiptoed back into the bedroom and left the note on my pillow. Clichéd I know, but I wanted to make sure he’d find it. When I backed out of the room, I blew him a kiss, then turned and let myself out of the room.
Rich
When she said “Oh no,” I knew I had to pretend I was still sleeping. Regrets? She had regrets? Fuck, I was on FIRE last night, if I do say so myself. Screw her if it wasn’t enough for her.
I can hear her messing around in the bathroom. At least she’s being quiet about it. I should just open my eyes and tell her off and be done with it, but if I open my eyes, the sunlight is going to hurt. I know it.
SonofaBITCH I wish she’d come back to bed and stop listening to whatever little voice made her get up in the first place. I’m sore all over, but it feels good, and I’m ready, rarin’ to go again. I stretched a little. Ouch. Jon’s going to positively kill me when I stagger into the press thing he’s dragging me off to later this morning.
I heard Aimee come back into the room and stop by the bed. Maybe she’s going to slide back under the covers? No, no, she’s gone again. I just heard the door close. Damn. I’m not usually the one being left in a hurry the morning after. I usually have to do the kicking out.
When I rolled over to get away from the sunlight that was trying to sneak under my eyelids, I landed on something crinkly.
A note. She left me a note?
OK, guess I have to open my eyes.
Huh. She had a good time.
Wonder why she left?
Hmmm, it ssays she’s coming to the shows this weekend – wonder if she’d be interested in another go-round when her ass is feeling better, heh-heh. It seems like she’d be willing. She didn’t leave a number, which is strange – I usually have to throw away numbers.
I smiled when I realized, I know exactly how I can get in touch with her again.
I know where her car is.
*** THE END ***
