by Jolie Du Prè
“Can I ask why you want a tattoo in the first place?”
No, she wanted to say, but much as she’d done the time before, she blurted the truth. “It’s more the act of getting a tattoo rather than what I get. I’m pushing boundaries, restabilising myself, fulfilling a pointless goal.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” He grinned and held up his arm for her to see a snake wrapped around from wrist to elbow. “That’s when I got this.”
She grimaced. Seeing the serpent didn’t help.
His laugh surprised her. “I’m not suggesting you get a snake. The point I was trying to make is that a tattoo is forever, or until you laser it off, so you should go for something you really like. You can have whatever you want.” He arched his eyebrows and she wondered if he was offering more than just his skills as an artist.
He looked so hopeful she couldn’t help but smile.
“How about we address the issue of where you are going to put it then?”
This was something she’d given plenty of thought. “Somewhere discreet. Like on my ankle.”
His face fell and she thought he looked disappointed. “Are you sure?”
“No,” she admitted. “I’m not sure about any of this. If it weren’t for my friends, I’d have happily let this fade into the past and chalk it up to one of my bad ideas.”
“Why is it a bad idea again?”
“Look at me.” She spread her hands out, offering herself to be judged. “I feel like a joke standing here in your shop.” The confession rushed out of her mouth. “I’m out of date, out of touch, and way out of my element. I don’t belong here. I don’t know the lingo, or what’s hip.” She waved her hand at her pants as though dismissing them. “I’m wearing navy slacks, for Pete’s sake.”
“And you use phrases like ‘for Pete’s sake’.” He grinned, but she wasn’t in the mood to laugh.
“Who am I kidding, pretending to be cool, and coming in here thinking I’ll impress some hot, young stud? This is just a typical midlife crisis. I’m hanging onto the scraps of my youth like a dog to a bone. I’m no better than my friend Mary, who I criticised for wearing glitter toenail polish and pig tails.”
He grimaced. “In my opinion, pig tails don’t work for anyone, but this hot, young stud thinks you’d look hot with a tattoo.”
She stopped her rant, hearing him, and realized what she’d admitted. He wasn’t running for the hills.
“Really?” She wanted to be doubly sure.
“I never lie.”
“Not even to desperate old ladies in order to make a buck?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’ve never had one in my shop.”
The line sounded so cheesy she had to drop her head so he couldn’t see her smirk. “You’re one cool cucumber, aren’t you?” she said, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze once again.
“Yeah, but I can turn up the heat when I want to as well.”
There was no mistaking the sexual innuendo in that comment she decided. He was flirting, and it was contagious.
“Tell you what,” he said stepping over to the front door. She watched as he turned the Open sign to read Closed and flipped the small deadbolt, locking it. “I’m going to give you my full attention. No one else comes in to disrupt this process until you’re satisfied.” He walked past her, around the counter, and pulled the curtain aside, indicating for her to pass through into his work space. “I think we should start with you telling me why you need to re-establish yourself in the first place. You look just fine to me.”
She swallowed thickly, staring at the heavy curtain as though it were a portal into another dimension, but after another moment’s thought, she nodded and walked through. Think positive, she told herself.
“So?” he prompted once the curtain fell back into place.
“My divorce,” she simply stated. “When I turned forty, my husband left me for someone younger. It would have been such a cliché, except it was a man. We realised neither of us were getting what we wanted out of the relationship, but at least he had the courage to go for it. I suppose it got me thinking along the same lines.”
Telling her young companion about her shame made her feel exposed and even more unappealing, so she was doubly surprised when he came to stand beside her. “I can’t imagine leaving anyone so beautiful.” His hand rose as though he were about to caress her cheek but he hesitated.
Her mouth opened, about to speak when he spoke first.
“Might I suggest something?”
She nodded, feeling wary.
“Get the tattoo, but keep it personal. Put it somewhere only you will see it.”
“Like where? My ass?”
“Or your breast.” His hand moved again, this time forward. “Here.” She felt the slight pressure as the back of his fingers followed the curve down and around. They rolled over the fabric, and then wrapped around one soft globe.
Stunned, she met his eyes, demanding an explanation, but he neither apologised nor backed down.
The old Toni would have come up with some excuse and fled the scene, but she was determined not to let that happen. This is the new Toni, she thought, feeling a burst of courage, a rare, Oh, screw it, frame of mind. She pulled on the fabric of her blouse, lifting it, exposing her midriff to the cool air. She didn’t stop until she’d uncovered both breasts from her bra, and left the material bunched up under her chin. Sawyer’s gaze swept across her chest, and a wicked smile played across his lips. Taking quick, shallow breaths she watched as he reached behind him and retrieved a marker from a nearby shelf. The tip of his tongue swept across his upper lip as he held the marker poised over her flesh. Concentrating only for a second, he brought the marker down and she held her breath against the ticklish sensation.
The outline of a butterfly wing appeared beneath his skilled fingers, and she marvelled at the stark contrast of the black ink against her pale skin. He drew the insect as though it had just landed, her breast an open flower, and her nipple the center. She didn’t object when his other hand roamed freely along her body, lightly caressing her other breast, her hip, her thigh. Somehow, even though his focus remained on the illustration, he’d managed to rid her of both bra and blouse in the process, and she marvelled at his abilities. Every once in awhile his groin would bump against her and she could feel his hard shaft beneath his jeans. She grew wetter knowing it was in response to her.
When he finished the drawing, he threw the marker over his shoulder. It clattered to the floor, already forgotten. Before she got a chance to see the design, he brought his mouth down upon her nipple and drew it between his lips. She moaned loudly at the intense pleasure he elicited, and he chuckled. She stiffened, assuming he thought she was amusing, and would have pulled back but he held her in place.
“You must think I’m a sex starved old bat.”
He lifted his lips off her nipple long enough to speak. “Not even close.” He ran his hands along the waist band of her pants and swiftly unfastened the front. Well aware of his intentions, she knew she should try to stop him. It was absurd. He represented everything she’d denied herself for the sake of social etiquette. Yet she allowed her pants to fall away, and paused to kick them away from her ankles. She must be mad. He was far too young for her. What could she expect from him but a moment of bliss? A moment of bliss, she thought. That and the satisfaction that she’d finally done exactly what she wanted, and right now, she wanted Sawyer.
His hands slid under her buttocks and again she didn’t resist him. Lifting her, he set her bottom down on the table in the middle of the room. He coaxed her gently until her back touched the table top, and then he stood back to pull his belt buckle open. His jeans were gone in a matter of seconds, followed closely by his T-shirt. His actions were fast, impatient, even demanding, and all for her.
She propped herself up on her arms and openly stared at his naked figure. He was nothing like her ex husband who, until recently, had let his body go, taking his libido with it. The man standin
g before her was primed like a new engine, his body finely muscled and lean, and his eyes full of fire and mischief. He seemed sure of himself, and even surer of her.
Her gaze wandered lower and her eyes widened at the sight of the tiny, gold hoop poking through the plump tip of his cock. Just looking at him set waves of pleasure rippling through her core. He was wild and daring. She’d never met anyone like him.
“Take your panties off,” he commanded, stepping close again. His muscular cock pointed straight to her sex and her stomach filled with butterflies. In a few minutes she was going to feel that hot rod plunging deep inside her.
“Please,” he added.
She hooked her thumbs on either side with a shy smile, rewarding him for his manners. As she slid her last remaining item of clothing off, he would see she was dripping wet. The evidence was visible on her panties.
“Beautiful,” Sawyer purred, dropping to his knees. His face hovered between her legs. “You’re a goddess,” he praised.
She felt the nagging doubts return. “This can’t be real.” She tried to pull away but he drew her back in, and closed his lips down upon her mound.
“It can.” His hot breath brushed against her inner thigh. “It is.” To prove it, he planted a kiss on her pussy lips. “Ever since you walked in here that first day I’ve fantasised about doing this very thing, and now that I’ve got you right where I want you, my nerves are threatening to ruin everything.”
Her heart swelled at his confession.
“I didn’t dare hope you’d look my way, fearing you’d see me as nothing more than a kid, but here you are, and I’m damn near numb with disbelief.”
His tongue swept across her sex, delving into her contours and teasing her swollen clit. She arched her back against his sweet assault, moaning loudly as she’d never done before. He had barely touched her, yet he was awakening long, repressed desires, sparking nerve endings into life, exploring areas her husband had never dared to touch. She writhed as he nipped and caressed her until he had to hold her hips in place to attend to her. Just when she thought she would explode into a million tiny shards of pure bliss, he pulled her forward so her bottom hung off the edge of the table and brought his body down upon her. Instinctively she wrapped her legs about his waist, grinding his cock against her mound.
“Not so fast,” he said, reaching to the shelf once again, and her mouth went dry. What had gone wrong? Why was he stopping?
A moment of disappointment was erased when she saw that he held a box of condoms, and was even more relieved to see the dust covering the container.
He rolled the latex sheath over his cock with an indulgent smile, and then returned to his position between her legs. The head of his cock nudged her sex lips apart and his smile widened. “So ready,” his voice rumbled with pleasure.
He didn’t waste any time, thrusting up into her with an impressive force, and she felt her walls expand to grip him. He gave her one more insistent push before lowering himself down to kiss her. Their lips locked with their passion and his tongue probed the depths of her mouth. A foreign object knocked against her teeth as his tongue swirled about. She recognised the stud and fixated on it by drawing the tip of her tongue over and over it. His hips began to rock in a steady, slow rhythm, pulling all the way in and out with strong, slow, deliberate movements. As he did, the stiff metal hoop rubbed against her tight canal in a surprisingly pleasant way, ramping up her libido another notch with each thrust. Her hands gripped his ass, drawing him in and he groaned as his cock hit her end. She felt the entrance of her pussy pulled tight from his girth and sensed his pulse beating there. He paused a moment, his eyes luminous with his pleasure.
The contact was intense and she wondered, now that she’d had a taste, how she would ever go without him again. Just the thought pained her, yet she couldn’t imagine he’d be willing to take a relationship with her seriously. If they went out to a restaurant, people would assume he was her son, for Pete’s sake. She didn’t know if she could bear that, yet she couldn’t deny the instant chemistry she sensed with him, nor how good he made her feel.
He thrust into her, drawing her back to the present with a gasp.
“You seem distracted,” he said grinning down at her and she blushed.
“How old are you?” She finally asked what was on her mind.
“Twenty-nine calendar years,” he said, not breaking tempo and thrusting again. She shut her eyes tight. Not even Thirty.
“But that’s not how old I usually feel.”
She opened her eyes again, curious.
“When you came in the first time, I tried to think of a way to ask you out that didn’t make me sound like an awkward teenager. It’s not often someone makes me feel young.” He paused mid-thrust, making her angle her hips up, trying to get more. He grinned, and teased her entrance a little, and then planted a kiss on her forehead. “I know you think I’m full of shit, but it’s the truth. I left home young, intending to make it on my own. I lived as a squatter along Sombrio Beach, living rough till I got sick of it, sick of the people, and the regular police raids.” He took a deep breath. “I came to Vancouver and set up here, but it has its downsides too. The people are the same. I still get raided. Just the view has changed.” She smiled at the roll of his eyes. “I’ve been in this business for six years. That makes me either an old fogey or a legend to most of my clients.”
She looked to his weathered skin, the crow’s feet around his eyes, and the wisdom resounding within them. She hadn’t noticed it before, but he did have the look of someone much older than his years.
He began to rock his hips again, and she sighed with relief.
“You, on the other hand,” he continued, and she tried not to make fun of his prologue in the middle of sex, “make me feel like I did when I was eighteen.”
She was about to protest, saying that didn’t make her feel any better, when he spoke again. “My thoughts weren’t so dark back then, and my cock was always hard. Just looking at you, I’m already thinking about the next time I fuck you, and I haven’t even come yet.”
He thrust into her to accentuate his point.
“Well then, maybe we should remedy that,” she said giving him an upward thrust of her own.
His eyes changed from soft to wicked, and he flashed her a lopsided smile. “You first,” he said bucking his hips and picking up the pace.
She bore the brunt of his forceful thrusts with an eagerness that had them both smiling. She embraced the onslaught with vigour, relishing in the fact that it was a young man’s cock sliding in and out of her body.
With each table-jumping slam of his hips, she drew one second closer to the biggest orgasm she’d ever experienced. When it came, it was all she could do to stay on the table.
He followed soon after, uttering a sound that was a cross between a groan and a growl, and then he sagged on top of her. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing his face, his mouth, his neck. He smelled so good she inhaled deeply, basking in his musky aroma, and marvelled at the beating of his heart so close to her own.
She had a million questions she wanted to ask him, so many doubts and fears still lingered. Only a week ago, the thought of getting a tattoo seemed radical, and she’d ended up fulfilling so much more than some silly goal. She’d never felt such joy, and it threatened to burble up out of her until she laughed out loud.
Sawyer lifted his head to look at her. “What’s so funny?” His grey-green eyes searched hers.
Her heart nearly melted, as she recognised the same doubts and fears mixed up in his afterglow, and she came to the conclusion that it was the same for everyone where matters of the heart were concerned. No matter what age she was, starting something new was always messy, tentative, and unknown. She’d never been as bold as she just was, but at least she’d taken a chance, pushed her personal boundaries, and maybe, because of that, she’d found real happiness.
Pleasant images filled her mind, a future with Sawyer that included a lounge chair
by the ocean. It felt possible, almost tangible.
“I’m happy,” she said, feeling foolish.
Relief flashed across his handsome features, “I’m happy to hear you say that.” He kissed her lips. “So, this feels like a rather roundabout way of asking you to dinner tonight.”
The familiar doubts flooded back into her mind. “Where would you have in mind?”
He must have read her expression and saw her fears. “I’d love to take you all over town, but let’s not overwhelm ourselves with public opinion just yet. How about my place? I cook a mean Mandarin stir-fry.” His heated gaze swept across her naked body beneath him. “And maybe afterward we could do this again.”
She smiled, and felt her remaining fears slip away. “I’d like nothing better, if you think you can keep up.”
His smile widened, delighted by her challenge. “Oh honey, I’m definitely up for it.” He moved his hips slightly, and she gasped as he stirred the lasting effects of her orgasm. Never had she thought getting a tattoo would be so pleasurable.
Adrian’s Lover
Craig J. Sorensen
Adrian didn’t have a Wiki page. No band site, no MySpace, no Facebook. From a web perspective, Adrian was nearly persona non grata. I found some references to an album at an old-school, text-based website to something with the simple title, The Adrian Parker Band, and a list of song titles. In one blog I found a post: “Do you remember a song by someone named Adrien (sic) Parker that had the words, ‘if you can’t find enough, stop looking so hard’ or something like that? I heard it one night on an FM station when I was a kid. Stuck with me and I heard something made me think of it a couple weeks ago.”
No replies.
If I’d had more time, I’d have gone to the library to see if there might be some footnote in some Rolling Stone article.
Instead, I rolled into Willie’s Bar early to secure a seat near the band.
“Five dollar cover charge, babe.”
I folded a ten dollar bill and thrust it forward like a hungry erection.