The Sexy Tattooist

by Joey Bush

  “Sure,” I said. “We can do that.”

  “Okay, great. I am so glad you called me. Why don’t we plan on meeting there tomorrow around noon? Does that work?”

  “Noon sounds good,” I said. “We’ll see you then.”

  “I love you, sweetie.”

  “I love you, too.”

  After we hung up, I sat there in the car for a few more minutes. The call had actually gone better than I’d thought it would have, and now, I could only hope that tomorrow would go smoothly, too. First, though, I’d have to convince Graham that he wanted to go.

  *****

  I was pleased with the amount of progress I’d made on my sculpture when I finally left the art center for the day. I was also glad that I’d listened to Janice’s advice and called my mother.

  Graham had sent me a text and said he’d be home earlier than he thought since one of his appointments had rescheduled, so I decided to stop at the grocery store and pick something up to make for dinner. My culinary skills wouldn’t win me any awards or anything, but Alicia had showed me once how to make clams and linguine, which was simple to make but tasted exquisite.

  When Graham got home, I was just draining the pasta.

  “Whoa,” he said as he walked in. “Something smells good.”

  “I’ve made dinner,” I said. “And it will be ready in two minutes.”

  “I’m feeling like quite the lucky guy. I don’t think anyone’s made me dinner before.”

  “Well, then, I’m glad I get to be the first. You get to be the first guy I’ve slept with; I get to be the first girl who’s cooked you dinner.”

  “Good trade-off, I’d say.”

  “You haven’t tried the food yet.”

  He laughed. “Touché.”

  But the food turned out to be quite good. It was hard to mess up pasta, and so long as you had butter, olive oil, garlic, clams, and white wine, it was hard to mess up the sauce, either.

  “This is delicious,” he said. “I could probably eat about two pounds of this. I didn’t really have lunch today, it was so busy.”

  I took another bite; it had come out quite good. “I was pretty busy today, too. But I did happen to stop for lunch. I went to Lorraine’s, actually. You should maybe give your mom a call.”

  He made a face. “Why?”

  “I actually ran into her today.”

  He gave me a quizzical look. “Please tell me you weren’t applying for a job down at The Finery.”

  “No way,” I said, hitting his shoulder lightly. “I told you—I was taking a break from the sculpture and I decided to go get lunch, so I went to Lorraine’s and your mom was there.”

  “Oh, right. Yesterday was Monday. She always goes to Lorraine’s on Monday.”

  “She gave me some good advice.”

  “I can just imagine. Actually, I don’t think I even want to know.”

  “We had a nice chat. It started off a little awkwardly, but then we started talking about parents and stuff and ... I don’t know. I can tell she loves you. She misses you. She ...” I paused. “She told me a little about your father.”

  “Oh, Jesus.” He put his fork down. “I really don’t want to know.”

  “We don’t have to get into it,” I said.

  “That’s good, I’d really rather not. There’s no need to spoil this fine meal that you’ve made.”

  “All right. We can talk about something totally neutral. Like ... the weather.”

  Graham picked up his fork and started eating again. “Tell me how your sculpture’s coming along.”

  “Really good. I was able to get a lot of work done today, and I’m happy with how it turned out.”

  “That’s great. Still a secret, though?”

  “Top secret.”

  He took another bite. “Well, if it’s even half as good as this food, then you’ll be in good shape.”

  “Why, thank you. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

  We watched a movie after dinner and then got ready for bed. I’d felt tired when we’d been sitting together on the couch, but now that I could actually close my eyes, I could tell sleep was a long way off.

  I turned to Graham and curved my body against the length of him, draping my leg over his. I could feel his cock, which was hard and getting harder as I gently squeezed it. He groaned softly into my hair, running his fingers down my flank. I could feel myself getting wet as he slid a hand between my legs, his fingers probing.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered as he slipped first one finger, then another, inside of me. I ran my hand up and down his cock.

  “So do you,” I said.

  We started to kiss—long, slow kisses, our tongues entwining. I moaned against him as he pushed his fingers further into me, rotating his wrist slowly in a clockwise motion. It felt so good, but I needed more, I needed him inside of me.

  “I want you inside of me,” I whispered.

  He reached over to the bedside table. He opened the packet, then slid the condom down onto his shaft and then lay back on the bed. I straddled him, easing myself lower until I felt him pressing against me. He held onto my hips and guided me down, his cock easily sliding into me because of my wetness. I let out a deep breath as I lowered myself all the way down. He kept one hand gripping my hip bone and brought the other up to cup my breast. I closed my eyes and focused on the warm, tingling sensation that seemed to be encompassing my entire body. I began to rock back and forth. An intense shiver shot up my spine each time I moved my hips back; there seemed to be a spot that his cock would press against just right each time I shifted back. I bit my lip to try to keep from crying out too loudly, but it felt so good I couldn’t help the little moans that escaped from my mouth.

  He squeezed my nipple a few times, almost enough to hurt, but not quite, and then brought that hand down and began massaging my clit. It felt so good, I threw my head back and shrieked; if someone had been outside and heard me, they probably would’ve thought I was getting bludgeoned to death. But this was like the exact opposite of that; I couldn’t remember ever feeling so good. I moved my hips faster, grinding into him, not just back and forth, but side to side, and then in a spiraling counterclockwise motion. His was breathing in ragged gasps, his jaw clenched, the tendons in his neck sticking out.

  That incredible feeling kept building and building and I knew with his hand there on my clit and his cock so deep inside me that I would hit the peak in just a few seconds if I kept on like this. Part of me wanted to, of course, but another part wanted to prolong it, ease off a little so we could keep doing it and make it last as long as possible. I liked the feeling of being in control of it, and he groaned as I started to swivel my hips again.

  “You’re torturing me,” he said. “God, you look good.”

  I started to grind into him, with increasing force, until I couldn’t control myself. I wanted to back off again, make it last, torture him a little more, but I couldn’t. It was as if some unseen force had overtaken me, my body reduced to pure sensation, almost as if my energy was mixing with Graham’s and becoming one. It felt like a gigantic wave rising and overtaking me, and I bit down on my lip as I came. He came a second later, pulling me down on top of him, his arms wrapping around me and holding me there like he was never going to let go.

  *****

  I realized, as I was starting to drift off, that I hadn’t even mentioned the conversation with my mother, and going out to lunch with her tomorrow. It was dark in the room, but I could tell by Graham’s rhythmic breathing that he’d already fallen asleep. I wasn’t too far behind. I could talk to him about this tomorrow morning, I decided, nestling up next to him.

  *****

  The next morning, we both slept in, and then woke up slowly, limbs entwined in each other’s. I felt him kiss my forehead, then the tip of my nose, then my lips as I stretched, a smile going across my face.

  “So,” I said, “I know we were planning to go to the beach, but how would you feel about going to
the yacht club instead?”

  He smiled. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

  “No. But I talked to my mother yesterday. And I think she was crying, and she was saying that she missed me and she wanted to go out to lunch. At the yacht club, of course, which is basically her comfort zone. I told her we could go.”

  “We?”

  “Yes. She wanted you to go, too. And she made certain to assure me that my dad would be gone all day golfing, so we wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him.” I paused, thinking about it again. If you had told me at the beginning of the summer that this was how things would be, I never in a million years would have believed it. “How is it things turned out like this? It’s so weird.”

  He ran his hand down my side and let it rest on my hip. “I like how you ambush me after a night of sex with this question,” he said. “I’m in a vulnerable state. I’d say yes to anything.”

  “Great.” I kissed him. “Thank you.”

  “How’d it go with your mom, though? They ready to have you back home?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. But she wants to see us both. It’s really my father that has the problem. So, I think we should go. How does that sound?”

  “Like I said, after a night like last night, I’d agree to anything. But sure, let’s do it. Today?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And it’s at the yacht club? I’ve never been to the yacht club before, you know. In fact, I think I used to make fun of people that would pay thousands of dollars a year just so they could hang out at a place called a ‘yacht club.’ I’m joking … mostly. But do they listen to yacht rock there? That’s the important question.”

  I grinned. “I guess you’ll just have to go there and find out.”

  *****

  Of course, I didn’t really have anything to wear for lunch; I’d left the few dresses and skirts I had at my parents’ house. My dad was probably long gone for his golf trip by this point, but I called Tara instead, and asked if she had anything I could borrow.

  “You know, I actually do have something that would be perfect for you,” she said. “And you know what? If you like it, you can have it; it’s a little too long for my tastes. Mom and I are headed to the beach in a few minutes; want me to drop it by?”

  “Sure,” I said. “That’d be great.”

  “Do you have shoes?”

  “Shit. No.” There was no way I’d be able to squeeze my feet into any of Tara’s shoes, either.

  “I’ll borrow something from my mom.”

  “No, you don’t have to—”

  “See you soon!” She hung up.

  *****

  Graham was in the shower when Tara arrived. “Look at this dress!” she said, holding it up in front of me. “You’ll look great in it.”

  The dress was a dark, sapphire blue, and it had a vintage, 50s look, with capped sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a flowing skirt that would probably stop right above my knees.

  “Wow,” I said, taking the dress from her and letting the silky fabric run through my fingers, “it’s beautiful.”

  “It’s yours!”

  “You’re sure you don’t want it?”

  Tara shook her head. “No. I mean, it’s gorgeous, but like I said—way too long on me! It’ll be perfect for you. And, to go along with it ...”

  She held out a pair of bright-pink pumps with at least a three-inch heel. “These will go perfectly!” She handed me the shoes.

  “No,” I said, catching sight of the label. I tried to hand them back. “There is no way in hell I am wearing a pair of your mother’s Manolo Blahniks!” Even I had seen enough episodes of Sex & the City to know that there is was no way in hell a girl like me should be wearing shoes like that. “Tara, these were probably a thousand dollars!”

  She waved me off. “So what? My mom probably has half a dozen pairs of them. And they’ll go perfectly with that dress! You will look amazing.”

  “I can’t. They’re your mom’s.”

  “And you guys have the same size feet. She’s only worn them like once.”

  “Exactly! I can’t wear them.”

  Tara sighed. “I told her I was giving you this dress to wear out to lunch at the yacht club. Then she asked me what you were wearing with it, and I said, knowing you, probably nothing because you didn’t have any jewelry. She said that was too bad. And then she asked what shoes. And I jokingly said you were going to wear flip flops, and you know my mom, she immediately went over to her closet and dug these out and said you had to wear them, because they’d go perfectly. You need the pop of color to go with the dark blue.”

  I probably would not have taken the shoes if I had anything else even remotely close to resembling a dress shoe. But I didn’t; all I had were my sandals and a pair of sneakers.

  “Go try it on!” Tara said.

  “Okay,” I said, clutching the shoes and dress to my chest. “Here goes nothing.”

  I went in the bedroom and changed into the dress. I didn’t even need to look in the mirror to know that it fit perfectly. The fabric felt silky smooth against my skin. I slipped the shoes on one by one and then stood for a moment, giving myself a chance to get used to the feel. I rarely wore high heels, but I did like the way I felt in these. At least right now I did; a few hours from now, I’d probably be crying in pain.

  I made my way slowly out of the bedroom, back to the living room where Tara was waiting. She grinned and clapped her hands together when she saw me.

  “Look at you!” she exclaimed. “Holy shit, you look amazing. Where’s a mirror?”

  “In the bathroom. Graham’s still in there, though. I think I just heard the shower go off.”

  “Well, you need to see how hot you look. And those shoes just make the outfit. What should we do with your hair?”

  “I don’t know, I think I was just going to put it up? It doesn’t need to be anything crazy; we’re just going to lunch.”

  “Your mom is going to freak when she sees how you good you look.”

  “Damn.” I turned and saw Graham standing there, bare-chested, towel wrapped around his waist. “Look at you. That’s quite the outfit.” He smiled at Tara. “Hey, what’s up,” he said. “I’m guessing you brought the dress over? I know she didn’t find it in my closet.”

  “Doesn’t she look amazing?” Tara asked.

  Graham kept his gaze on me for a few seconds, taking it all in. I felt myself blush. “Yeah,” he said. “She sure does.”

  I went into the bathroom so I could see exactly how I looked. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw my reflection; in part, I think, because I wasn’t used to seeing myself wearing something like this, but also just because the dress fit me just right and the shoes accentuated my legs and the whole outfit had just come together perfectly.

  “I guess I better go get dressed, too,” Graham said.

  Tara messed around with my hair a little bit, though it was so short there weren’t many options. “A headband might look cute,” she said. “I really do like it short.”

  “Thanks. I do, too.”

  Graham emerged from his room looking a little skeptical.

  “Yeow!” Tara yelled. “Lookin’ good!”

  And he was. He was wearing a pair of jeans, cuffed, with a black, short-sleeve button-down that he’d paired with low-cut Doc Martens. Few people wore jeans to the yacht club, but he was somehow able to make it look like a fancy outfit.

  “You look great!” I said.

  “I figured the rockabilly look would go along with your dress.”

  “Let me take a picture of you two,” Tara said.

  We stood next to each other and she took a couple pictures, and I looked at myself in the mirror once more before we left. The dress fit perfectly. I didn’t know if I’d ever be used to seeing myself wearing something like this, but even I knew that it looked good.

  *****

  We met my mother at the lounge and her eyes lit up when she saw us walk in.

  “If I didn’t know
any better, I’d say she was excited to see us,” Graham whispered as we walked over.

  “Wow!” she exclaimed. She threw her arms around me as though we hadn’t seen each other in years, not days. “Look at the two of you!” She turned to Graham with the same enthusiasm but refrained from hugging him. She hesitated, as though she wasn’t quite sure what to do, and then finally held out her hand for him to shake. “I’m so glad the two of you could make it. You both look great. Where did you get that dress, Chloe? And those shoes!”

  My mother kept up a steady stream of chatter as we moved from the lounge to the restaurant, which was overlooking the ocean. There was a gentle breeze rolling in and the air smelled like salt.

  “Why don’t we sit here,” my mother said, gesturing to one of the empty, white linen covered tables. “I’m going to go use the ladies’ room, but you two can start looking over the menu.”

  “Sounds good,” Graham said. My mom gave us another big smile and then walked to the bathroom. We were about to sit down when something over my shoulder caught Graham’s eye.

  “Hey, there’s Parker,” he said.

  I groaned. “Are you serious?”

  “Now, that wouldn’t be a very funny joke if it wasn’t him, would it?”

  “Is he looking? Can we just pretend that we don’t see him—”

  “He sees us. Here he comes.” Graham nudged me. “Just smile and tell him how good he looks in that pink polo shirt.”

  I turned, taking a deep breath. I hadn’t seen Parker since the beach party, and I could only imagine how awkward this conversation was going to be. His shirt was very pink. But as he got closer, I saw how shitty he looked. Pale, tired, and nothing like I remembered him.

  “Parker,” I said, unable to keep the surprised note out of my voice.

  “Hey there, guys.” His tone was subdued, though I could tell he was trying to play it off like everything was normal, when it so clearly wasn’t.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He was okay enough to look highly annoyed that I was even asking him that question in the first place. “I’m fine,” he said coolly. “How are you two?”

  “Yeah, man,” Graham said, a concerned expression on his face. “You’re not looking so good. You been training too hard? Why don’t you give yourself a little break—I’m done with racing for the season, anyway.”