by Hunter Rose
I watch him closely as he tenderly sponges my nether regions. My cheeks blaze again as I feel the arousal brush the folds between my legs. I wish I could feel the heat of his skin rather than the latex of the gloves. His gentle ministrations are over far too soon. The sweet stroking is replaced with Zac pressing the thermal paper on the same spot.
“All done.” With no more words, Zac gets up.
Lifting the towel a fraction, I look down. I see a bluish outline of the design I chose. I frown, trying to imagine what the finished work will look like when he starts piercing my skin. From what little I know, I assume that it’s the design transfer for the finished work.
I watch Zac for a moment as he starts filling little cups with different colors. Somehow, the entire process intrigues me. I would have never guessed that tattoo artists were, as their title suggests, artists. Zac has a frown of concentration on his face while he works. I smile while I watch his big hands move about with such agile grace. I hastily try to think of something to say. I want to talk to him and remind him that I’m still here. I feel as if he has totally forgotten that I exist.
“What you doing now?”
“You sure ask a lot of questions,” he snaps.
Dick. With a scowl on my face that he doesn’t notice, I continue watching Zac as he places the machine back on the table carefully. I close my eyes when I feel his hands on my skin again. I swallow a knot in my throat that I didn’t even know I had. Despite the feel of his fingers, I’m still smarting from his curt remark from before. Why does the guy have to be so damn rude? I only wanted to know how everything works. Fuck, it’s my tat.
With an icy comment on the tip of my tongue, I snap open my eyes. Zac has removed his t-shirt. My anger melts away when I see his devious grin. I want to tell him to put his t-shirt back on, but I swallow down the reprimand as my vision takes in his perfect manliness. This isn’t so bad. I can get used to this.
9
Zacchary
“I need to keep you distracted,” I say, seeing the questioning gaze play on Stella’s face.
“Distracted?”
“Yeah, you can’t very well read a magazine while I work.” I say, shrugging a shoulder. “So why not check out my tats. I do this for many of my first-time clients.”
“I see.”
Stella’s seems disappointed by something, but I don’t linger on the matter. Rather, I take the gun in my hand again. “Ready?”
Stellaglances at me and I see hesitation consume her face. She gives Crystal a brief look, but her friend is still fast asleep. Finally, she nods.
“Okay, I’m starting now. Don’t be nervous. There’s nothing to be worried about. Just don’t hold your breath, and instead take nice and slow deep breaths. Alright?”
“Yes.” Stella’s voice is barely a whisper. Her eyes open wide, and she presses her lips together when the first needle pierces her skin.
“Breathe,” I command, not stopping what I’m doing. “The first minute is the worst, after that you’ll get used to it.”
Stella doesn’t answer. I can hear her breathing heavily, but other than that, she remains totally still. I’m impressed. She sure holds herself better than Bee’s boyfriend earlier. I manage a quick look at her face. I immediately see the strength of will incised onto her features. It makes her look even hotter than usual.
“I like your tattoo.”
I smile at her and look back down to the image of the star slowly starting to materialize on her skin. “Which one?”
“The one of the tiger on your chest.”
“Yeah, I love that one. Azure chose it for me.”
“Ah, your daughter, of course.”
The relief in Stella’s voice is palpable. I hazard a smirk. “I would have never thought of you as the tattoo type,” I say, not looking up from my work.
I hear Stella take a deep breath. She makes no effort to soften the exhalation of air leaving her mouth. I can’t help but think that she’s irritated by something again. I move the gun along the traced line on her skin in silence.
“I never thought of having a tat before because I didn’t know how it would impact my modeling work,” she says at last.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I do quite a lot of stuff for lingerie and swimsuit brands.”
I look up briefly, but not at her. Instead, I focus on the prostrate frame of Crystal lying on the chair. “I thought lots of models have tats.”
“They do, but it never was my image, you know?”
I grunt something incomprehensible. My reaction only spurs her on. She starts waffling on about this and that, and goes into great detail on the model business that I couldn’t give less of a shit about. By the time she starts telling me about what kind of make-up is needed and the strict dietary regimen she follows, I roll my eyes. “Women . . . they’re all the same.”
“What?”
With a sneer on my face, I look into her blue eyes that have gone a shade darker. “I said, that’s all you model girls care about. Your bodies, clothes, and getting a guy.” I shrug, leaving her hanging there about to burst. I look down again. “Anyhow, you’re not past it yet for a tat.” I have to control myself not to laugh, while I also brace myself for the dressing-down I expect in the next few seconds.
“Not past it? What makes you say that?” she snaps.
“Oh, just that you’re older than most of my first-time clients.”
“How old do you think I am then?” Stella’s voice betrays a hint of exasperation.
“Twenty-six.”
“Uh-huh. How did you know that?”
“You gave me your ID before, remember?”
“Oh yeah.”
I can almost feel her mind working as I change to a different color and resume the piercing of her skin. She flinches briefly, pushing the towel down a notch until it slips off her body onto the floor. I have to control myself not to drop the machine as I have a perfect view of her shaven pussy. I stop what I’m doing and make to bend down. This action briefly gives me an even better view of the perfectly curved beginning of her slit that slides down.
“Don’t,” she says, holding my hand. “Keep going.”
“But—”
“Oh, come on, stop acting all modest on me. I bet you’ve seen plenty of naked women in your time.”
“I sure have, but none of them were as hot as you,” I mumble.
“What did you say?”
“Oh, just that it will be a lot easier to work without having to keep the towel in place.”
“Uh-huh, I bet.” Stella shifts her weight on the bed. She sighs contently, all of her previous suppressed anger gone. “So, tell me about your daughter?”
Her question surprises me. Apart from the mother of Azure’s best friend, I have never spoken to another woman about my daughter. “Azure’s fifteen and a realhandful.”
“I bet she is. Most young girls are. Fifteen is an interesting age.” Stella tenses when I shift the gun up a little. “Does she have a boyfriend yet?”
My eyes snap up until I glower at Stella. “No fucking way. She’s too young for that.”
“Hey, steady on there. It was only a question. And besides, I had my first boyfriend at that age.”
“Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stella’s voice is laced with a pinch of venom.
“You just look like the kind of girl who can’t stay alone for long.”
“Oh, really? And what makes you say that?”
I look up and place my hands on her thighs. I love the way she frowns when I do this. I realize that the haughty woman from Bel Air is somehow turned on by me. If she weren’t a client paying me two grand, I would fuck her here and now. Immediately, my daughter comes to the forefront of my mind and I discount the sentiment. “I bet that you’ve had a boyfriend continuously since that first guy at the age of fifteen.” The expression on her face is priceless and confirms what I said.
“What if I ha
d? What’s it to you?”
“Nothing, I just don’t want the same for Azure. Being in a relationship is special and totally different from mindless sex.” Shifting my gaze lower, I shrug. Without making contact with her skin, I cover her sex with the palm of my hand and resume my work. “I haven’t been in a relationship with anybody since the marriage with Azure’s mom broke down. It wouldn’t be right to subject her to a string of different women that don’t mean anything.”
“And what if you meet somebody that does mean something one day?”
“I don’t know. I guess I haven’t thought about it much.”
10
Stella
I now feel a constant burning sensation where the tat is gradually starting to materialize. It doesn’t distract me from the hunk next to me, though. Why do I think that he’s far deeper than his exterior portrays, while he thinks of me as some stupid blonde bimbo who’s afraid of being alone? Is it my fate to run into guys who don’t really dig me—first Troy and now this guy?
“So, you haven’t had sex for fifteen years?” I snap my mouth shut. Fuck, where did that just come from?
Zac guffaws. He has to stop his work for a few moments, as his entire bulky frame shudders with mirth. “No, I didn’t say that.” With a shake of his head, the light throbbing in my nether regions and the persistent whizz of the machine resumes.
“So, you frequent prostitutes?”
“No, I do not. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Zac’s voice is level. The question did not perturb him in the least.
“I think the profession is despicable,” I snap, totally forgetting the earlier direction of the conversation.
“That’s because you’ve never been in a position to have to sell your body to look after yourself and your kids.”
“And you have?”
Another chuckle. “No, but I’ve had to do all kinds of work to earn money for me and my daughter. Also, I know a few nice women who work as prostitutes. They’re great people getting by in a tough world.” Zac looks up briefly. “Not that you would know anything about the world being tough and all.”
Zac places the gun on the table and spends far too long studying the area between my legs. I can literally feel his breath brush the skin above my clit lightly. I have to stifle a moan. This guy drives me nuts. One moment we’re disagreeing, and the very next my pussy could leak onto his bed. “I know just how tough the world can be,” I croak, barely regaining my poise.
“I very much doubt that.” Zac stops in mid-sentence as he lowers his head a fraction.
Zac is still all eyes for my mons pubis. I will him with my stare to look up and talk to me. I feel the heat rise up to my face for the umpteenth time since meeting him. Like mushrooms after a heavy rainfall, goosebumps rise up, populating the skin on my thighs and arms. Usually, this only happens after I’ve climaxed, no matter how rare that is. The notion makes me feel even more uncomfortable.
“You can’t know anything of the world from your secure perch in your ivory mansion in Bel Air.” Zac looks up, eyes snapping to mine. His gaze is unrelenting and hard. “But that will have to be a discussion for another time,” he says as he stands up. “You’re all done.”
Zac moves away and returns with a hot towel, which he hands to me. “Here, place this on the sensitive area for a few moments while I get some bandages.”
“My mom died when I was very young, so never patronize me again by saying that I don’t know anything about the harshness of the world.” I press the hot towel down too hard, making me nearly cry out. I force down the tears that threaten to seep out of my eyes.
Zac walks back to where I’m sitting. His gait is light and fluid and the expression on his face has softened somewhat. “I’m sorry about your mom,” he says, sitting down.
I register the sincerity in his voice, but nothing more. I realize that he might have said just the same thing to a casual acquaintance he doesn’t really care about. I force the thought from my mind—what the hell am I expecting from this guy that I just met?
While my mind works fervently over our rather one-sided conversation, I cannot take my eyes off the muscles on his chest and abdomen. I don’t know what to focus on—the myriad tats that I sometimes find distracting from the magnificence of his physique or the tenderness incised onto his features. I conclude by deciding that he’s the cutest badass I’ve ever seen, despite his gruff manner and exterior. Also, the tats look damn hot on him. He’s just the kind of man who can get away with it and look incredible.
Somehow, the gentleness of his hands as he patches me up is far more intimate than having him work for over an hour between my legs. I imagine him to be just the same when he’s around his daughter, and she just had a fall and grazed her knee. I press my lips together in thought. How much I wish to have a man other than my dad to love me so much.
“Great, you’re all packed up and ready to go.” Zac gets up from his seat and walks over to where I left my clothing. Without inhibition, he picks up my skirt and panties, and casually tosses them over to me.
My eyes are the size of saucers at this crude display of intimacy. “Do you always rummage around your clients’ underwear?” I say, but immediately falter at the harshness of my own voice.
“You would prefer running around with your bare ass all over the place?” Zac asks, as he grabs his t-shirt and puts it on.
I’m fuming, but the color of embarrassment assaults my face when I’m once again reminded of the fact that I’m not wearing anything below the waist. “I . . . I would have you know that you’re an ape,” I snarl. I’m beyond caring that he’s still in the room. With my face the color of a bright red tomato, I get up and quickly slip my panties up my legs. I register a nod of approval when he gets a perfect view of my ass. Ha, gorilla, take a good look because you ain’t seeing that again.
“After you’ve woken up sleeping beauty, come out front.” Without another word, Zac leaves the room.
After he’s gone, I stand in the middle of the room contemplating everything that had just happened. Zac confuses me. Never before has a man aroused such a confluence of mixed emotions in such a short time. There had been everything from distain, instant attraction, anger, sexual wanting, closeness and, finally, a deep rift again. Without me even realizing it, and despite my earlier words, I catch myself thinking of ways to come back to the Eye of the Needle. Maybe next time, I’ll ask Zac to add some more lines and a moon lower down. I blush crimson at the notion.
“Hey, you got that drunk friend of yours up already? I need the both of you out of here now.”
Hearing Zac, I tense. “That son of a bitch.” With purpose, I rush forward. “Hey, baby.” I shake my friend’s shoulder far too harshly. I project all of the anger that has accumulated thanks to Zac’s persistent bad attitude onto my friend’s body. I just can’t understand why he bothers me so much. Usually, I would brush off a crude oaf and take his comments in my stride, but somehow, it’s different with Zac.
“Okay, okay, I’m awake now,” Crystal groans, at the same time trying to register her whereabouts. “Are we still in the tattoo parlor?”
“Yeah, and we’re leaving. Come on.” I drag Crystal to her feet. I snarl at her when she starts to complain. Taking care of my inebriated friend, I head for the door with the determination of a woman scorned.
“Bye you two. Thanks for the work.”
I cast Zac a withering gaze that could’ve killed anyone but him. “You’re a prick, Zac. I just hope you’re different with your daughter.” I don’t wait for an answer because I know that it would be futile. Instead, I push the door open with my foot and rush out onto the street.
11
Zacchary
Thank God that woman’s not my girlfriend. Those spoilt types are a real hand full. What the fuck, did she want me to order her a taxi or something? Never heard of a tat parlor with valet parking and doormen.
A memory of her tanned backside usurps my frustration. “She’s got one damn fi
ne ass, though,” Isay to myself, huffing out a laugh. She has to, for any guy to put up with her endless questions and irritating demeanor. Hell, she’s a pain in the ass.
I move around the store, cleaning up and putting the equipment away, but all the while I can’t help but think about Stella’s body. She is the hottest woman I have ever seen. And that cute face she has is etched into my memory.. She even looks good when she’s a pain in the ass.
I shake my head and laugh. Never met a girl before who could give me a boner by just crinkling her nose or frowning.
Putting my hand into the pocket of my jeans, I smile. It was worth it. I have two grand. I only have to pay Elvis, the owner of the Eye of the Needle, his twenty percent cut, and the rest is mine. I’m going to take Azure out for a steak dinner tomorrow, certain that it’s her favorite food as it is mine.
While I lock the front door and pull down the iron railing guarding the windows and door, I think of Stella again. Why the hell can’t I get her out of my head? Damn, this has to stop. Get home to your little girl and go to bed. You do it every day, and this is no different. I frown as I start walking to my car that’s parked just around the corner, Stella still on my mind.
“What the fuck! We’ve been waiting in that shithole of a bar that baboon recommended for all this time and now you don’t want to go party?” I hear a familiar voice asking. Tweedledee.
“Yeah, it’s barely two in the morning. I know a really cool place that’s not too far away.” And there’s Tweedledum.
“And besides you still have to show us the tattoo. The bet was a tat, and we invite you two for a late-night snack to a place of your choosing.”
“Keep the dinner, Chase. I got the tat now and I’m happy with it.”
I smile when I hear this. I was half expecting Stella to regret every moment.
“I’m bushed, Cornelius. Can’t you see when a girl has to go home?” Crystal is no longer as brash as when she entered the tattoo studio earlier. Her voice sounds fatigued.