What the fuck! Something was happening. I threw my arms around him, hugged him closer, and I couldn’t move my mouth anymore. Just my hips. Or, I wasn’t really moving my hips, they were doing it all by themselves. I buried my face into his neck, moaning against it, but that wasn’t bothering me anymore, either. The only thing I could think about was that feeling. The tingling, tightening, hot feeling, and then… Ohmygod!
Oh. My. Fucking. God!
“Mac! Oh shit!”
It all fucking exploded, or imploded, possibly both at the same time. Then I couldn’t move at all. I could hardly breathe. I lay flat on the counter, and my body felt like jello.
-o0o—
Mac looked at the panting girl lying on his kitchen island. He fucking loved her on it; all the best things with her had happened there. And now she was almost naked with her hair flowing over the opposite edge, and he looked down to his hand buried inside the only piece of clothing she still wore. Black and pink striped cotton panties. He’d never thought he’d find those kind of panties hot, but they were on her. Especially with his hand inside them.
“I was wrong,” she mumbled, and when he looked back at her face, her eyes were still closed.
“About what?”
“I’ve never had an orgasm before.” Her lips turned into a smile. “I think I’ll want more of them.”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed and leaned down to give her a kiss. “I’ll make sure of that.” He gave her another kiss and sighed. “This really sucks, baby, but I have to go.”
She nodded and winced a little when he took his hand out of her panties. He helped her to sit up. His hand was covered in her and, looking right at her, he licked his fingertips. He wanted to see her reaction.
“Ohmygod! Did you just lick my juices?”
“Yup,” he smiled. “Tastes like honey.”
“Eww!”
“Should be glad I like it. If you’re okay with it, I thought I’d lick it right from the source next time.”
She looked at him with big, almost horrified eyes. Then the same thing happened as the two times before—the horrified expression disappeared, and she gave him a shy smile. He’d figure that out—if he told her what he planned for next time, she was horrified at first, but then the thought turned her on. He loved seeing that change on her.
At the moment, his main concern was the fact he was so hard he was about to burst, and he needed to get back to the clubhouse since he was already late. He gave her a quick kiss before going into the bathroom, then pulled out his dick and really fucking quickly got off. Just remembering her coming in his arms, that wet surge over his hand, the same wet he was now rubbing his dick with—that did it. It didn’t take long at all.
When he came back outside, she stood in front of the wall in just t-shirt and panties, holding a measuring tape and pen. Her purple hair was almost glowing next to the weird, bluish color she’d painted the wall. He went up to her, put an arm around her waist and gave her cheek a kiss.
“Your hair matches the color on the wall.”
She smiled. “I know it looks crazy, but I think you’ll like it when it’s all done.”
“I know. I need to get back to the clubhouse.”
“I have to be home by eleven.”
“I’ll leave a key so you can lock up. I don’t think I’ll be home by then, but I know Bear won’t be, either.”
“He told me, but just in case.”
“Okay,” he gave her another kiss. “I’ll leave a key on the coffee table.”
She nodded. It didn’t seem to get to her at all that he gave her a key to his place. When he came home at half past eleven, he understood why. She’d thrown it through the mail slot. With a laugh he picked it up; he obviously had to be clearer when he gave her stuff.
-o0o—
When Vi was six, Bear had bought her a huge set of pens, crayons, and paper for Christmas. She’d gotten dolls and stuff, too, but she’d spent the entire evening drawing, and she’d kept doing it the next day. Not a full month later, the stack of paper he’d bought was gone. Ella’d bought her a sketchbook and told her she could bring it with her wherever she went. Since then, Vi never left home without a sketchbook.
When she was fourteen, some dude at an art store told Bear that Moleskin was the shit, so he bought one of those for her. Her Moleskin was the book she usually had with her; she said she liked how they smelled.
A sure way to know Vi was home was her keys in the bowl and her Moleskin sketchbook next to it. Since they were there, he yelled to get her attention. He wanted to talk to her. He’d been psyching himself and planning for this talk since lunch.
“Vi!”
“In the bathroom.”
He walked through the apartment and opened the door. “Why the fuck isn’t the door locked?”
“To the bathroom?” she asked and stared at him. “I’m just shaving my legs.”
“No. To the apartment. I’ve told you to keep it locked when you’re home alone.” He looked down at her lathered up leg and noticed the razor in her hand. “Is that my razor? And since when do you shave your legs?”
“Uhm, since I was fourteen?”
He hadn’t known that. “With my razor?”
“Yeah. I mean, why do you even have one?”
“I shave!”
“Where?” And then she stared at the razor. “Holy shit, tell me you’re not shaving your balls with this!”
“What? No! What the fuck! Why the fuck would I shave my balls? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Guys do that!”
“What guys?”
“Sisco talked about it at the club once.”
“Why the fuck is he telling you that?!” He was going to have a serious talk to Sisco about keeping his privates private around Vi.
“He wasn’t talking to me.” Her leg was still up on the toilet seat. “Seriously, what do you shave with this?”
“My beard!”
“Really?” She stared at him in disbelief.
“I even the lines. Why would I keep buying new ones if I didn’t use them?” That’s when something occurred to him. “Oh, fuck! What else do you shave?”
This was without a doubt one of the most awkward and weird discussions they’d had. This or the one that happened about a month after Ella’d moved out, and Vi asked him to buy maxi pads, then spent about ten minutes specifying what kind she needed. He’d finally given her fifty bucks and told her to buy whatever she needed herself, and he’d done that about once a month since then.
When Vi, as an answer to his question of what else she shaved, gave him a slightly horrified look, he almost gagged.
“Legs, armpits and for summer… you know…” She sighed.
“I’m giving you money, and you’re buying your own fucking razors. This will never be mentioned ever again.” He couldn’t believe it! He’d shaved his face with a razor his daughter had used… He couldn’t even think about it. “I need a drink. Possibly drugs.”
The plan to get her talking about Mac, or at least poke around a little, was out the window. It wasn’t going to happen. He went into the kitchen and poured himself a generous glass of whiskey. He was getting high tonight—as a fucking kite.
When she came out from the bathroom about ten minutes later, he was by the window with a smoke.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said and sat down. “I honestly thought you bought them for me. It’s not all that obvious you shave.”
“Yeah. Still, why the hell do you shave… there?”
“Because,” she looked embarrassed, “I don’t want hair, you know, poking out from my bikini-bottom.”
“You have a bikini?”
“Dad! Yes! Why wouldn’t I?”
She probably had a point, but his girl in a bikini with guys seeing her—that was disturbing. A lot of things with her had gotten disturbing since she started to develop curves and stuff. It’d been the same with Lisa, but still different. He hadn’t really thought about Vi growi
ng up. Lisa’d always been the big sister, and Vi was the baby. And now she wasn’t.
“I’m gonna do my best to forget this ever happened. Buy a pink razor or some other chick color I would never buy.”
“Okay,” she mumbled.
Then she glanced at him, and he could see her trying to hide a smile, and simultaneously they started to laugh. He put out his smoke and walked up to her, picking her up in a hug.
“I’m sorry,” she giggled. “That was just so fucking awkward.”
“You’re not kidding, girl.” He kissed the top of her head. “You working today?”
“Yeah. I was gonna ask you for a lift.”
“Think someone can give you a lift home after work? I’m planning on going to the clubhouse and killing enough braincells to forget this.”
“I’ll ask Trixie.”
He took her to work, and after getting off the bike, she gave him a long hug.
“Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too, Katze,” he mumbled and gave her forehead a kiss. “Don’t forget to buy a razor.”
He was still a bit freaked out about it by the time he got to the clubhouse, and Brick wasn’t much help. He couldn’t fucking stop laughing when Bear tried to share his horror with him.
Instead, he got really drunk, extremely fucking high, and fucked the living crap out of one of the strippers. It helped.
CHAPTER SEVEN:
Taste The Dish You Serve
-o0o—
THE MOST COMMON TATTOOS people wanted were memorial tattoos, but cover-ups were pretty common, too. I watched as Chris was trying to figure out how to cover a black tribal placed above a girl’s butt cheek. I’d never done a cover-up, but I knew it was hard.
The only way to cover black was black. Navy blue could work if the black ink was old and faded. This chick, however, was dead set on flowers. I was pretty sure he’d tell her he couldn’t do it unless she had it lasered a few times to get it faded before he tried again.
I was sketching a fairy. They’d started handing those over to me since they all fucking hated fairies. I didn’t do the actual tattooing, not yet, but they were all eager to get me going on customers so I could take over the tattoos they found boring.
I was, in general, getting out of a lot of the grunt work. Sami’d hired a new shop assistant to help Trixie, instead of me. I was still cleaning the machines, tubes, and equipment, but it was more so I’d get to know them properly. The real grunt work, like breaking down and preparing stations, going through inventory, and ordering—I hardly did any of that anymore.
I looked down at Chris’s sketch.
“You do realize it’s going look like the flowers are coming out of her ass when you do it like that?”
Chris looked at it and sighed. “Turn around.”
I did and felt him putting the sketch on my lower back.
“Fuck! You’re right.” He ripped the paper in two and threw it into the bin. “It’s fucking impossible unless she agrees to some changes to her design idea.”
“Told you!” Sami yelled from the kitchen area.
Chris looked at me. “Come on. We’re gonna have a needle test.”
That basically meant he’d hold up needles and ask me to tell him what kind of techniques they could be used for. I followed him into his cubicle, and he started rummaging through his bottom drawers. Which meant we were going to do rare needles. We did this often. About as often as we went through every detail of the machines and how to adjust them. I didn’t mind; it was definitely things I needed to know.
Sami’d had me trying a different type of machine lately; it was a rotary machine. They were more silent, but I didn’t like them. It pushed the needle through the skin in a different way. The needle didn’t bounce back the way it did with the classic coil machine. But I’d promised him to try it for a bit longer when he told me they could possibly save my hearing. They all had me trying different things, saying they wanted me to find my own way of working rather than just adopting their ways. Which I guessed was good, but sometimes it was annoying.
Once the needle test was done, I took the stuff I’d had going in the ultrasonic cleaner and started preparing it for the autoclave. I called for Trixie, since I knew no one would come into the kitchen while I did this. All the others avoided the kitchen whenever I sterilized equipment, because they all hated that part of the job. She came and actually started helping me. Once it was all in the autoclave, we sat down.
I’d talked to her about Mac, she knew pretty much all of it, and so far she’d been very supportive. I told her I was going to Mac’s the next day to try to finish the painting.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked. “You’re gonna keep it a secret till—when?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. I knew I had to tell Dad eventually; I just wasn’t sure when or how.
“What is he saying?” When she asked, all I could think about was him saying he’d lick me, and I blushed. She lean forward with a big smile. “Ohhh, what’s the next dirty thing he’s gonna do? Has to be something good, since you’re blushing.”
I’d told her that, too. How he told me what he’d do the next time. I liked that part; it made me able to get used to the idea, and Trixie said it was smart of him to prepare me rather than just do it. I wasn’t sure how to tell her this one, though.
“He… licked his fingers, and said he was gonna… you know, lick me.”
“Oh, my! Girl, you’ve got something to look forward too. That’s the fucking best. The best!”
I was sure it was good, had no doubt about it, but it kind of grossed me out, too.
“Yeah, but he licked his fingers.”
“So?”
“The ones he’d had… there.”
“Oh, honey. Most guys like the taste. Unless it’s a bad time of the month.” Just the thought about someone licking me when I had my period made me gag, and she laughed. “No, I don’t mean your time of the month. The juices down there smell and taste different depending on where you are in your cycle.”
“Really?”
“Sure.” She pointed at me. “If you’re a bit squeamish about it the first time, make sure it’s a time when you smell and taste nice.”
“You mean I should shove my fingers down there and taste them?” I couldn’t believe we were even talking about this.
“Gotta taste the dish you serve, baby,” she said with a wink.
“Ohmyfuckinggod. I’m so not ready for this,” I muttered and leaned my forehead on the table in front of me. “Not ready at all! I’ll just tell him to… wait, for a while, or something.”
“I’m sure he’s fine with that.” I felt Trixie’s hand on my shoulder. “First time I had sex I was sixteen. The guy’s name was John, and he shoved it in—it hurt like hell. He went at it for maybe three minutes before blowing his load and fell asleep. We were together for four months, and that was pretty much the extent of our sex life. The first time a guy went down on me I was eighteen. He slobbed around for thirty seconds before coming back up looking seriously fucking proud and then fucked me. It wasn’t until I was nineteen I guy managed to make me come.”
I looked at her. That sounded horrible, and I was very happy Mac wasn’t like that. He seemed to work hard to make me like what we did.
“The point with this sob story is that you’re lucky to be with a guy who gives a shit,” Trixie continued. “I know it can feel a bit much, I get that. But I think you know he wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable. He seems really okay with you stopping him when it gets too much, and he’s not teasing you for what freaks you out. Go with that, use it, and ask him everything you wonder about. I think he’d be happy to tell you. I mean, it’s good that you’re talking to me about this, and you should definitely keep that up, but ask him, too.”
“Okay.” I threw my arms around her. “You’re awesome.”
“I know. I fucking rock, kiddo.”
I thought about it for a while. “Nineteen?”
&nb
sp; “Fucking tragedy when I think about it. But that’s how I learned most guys don’t just do stuff, you have to ask them, and none of them are mind readers. We have to tell them what we like, and decent guys like it when we do, ‘cause they want us to be satisfied.” She stroked my cheek. “He’ll wait with doing it if you tell him you’re not ready. I know he will. But talk to him, and not just about the things you don’t want to do, but what you want to do as well. That’s a real turn-on for most of them.”
I nodded. There were a few things I’d been thinking about.
-o0o—
Mac was on his couch, staring at the painting Vi was still working on. It was better than he’d ever imagined, and definitely better than he’d thought when she started off by painting the wall in the weird color. She wasn’t done, though. There were some orange details missing, and she’d do those in a couple of days.
She was next to him on the couch, and he changed his focus to her instead, because he’d hardly seen her in over a week. Just a quick meeting when he left her the key and told her to keep it and work on the wall whenever she had the time. But giving her the key had meant he saw even less of her. He just noticed she’d been to his place when he came home and saw the work she’d done.
“Mac, can I ask you things about stuff?” she suddenly asked.
“Things about stuff?” he said and turned to her with a smile. “Sure, ask me things about stuff.”
“I meant about sex.”
He’d known that. “Sure.”
She looked a bit uncomfortable. “This might piss you off, but I talk to Trixie… about you.”
“About me?”
“Yeah. I mean, I have questions and, well, she’s a woman, and… I talked to her even before… when you…”
“Baby, it’s okay,” he interrupted her. “I get it. I know you’re not gossiping. You have questions, and some of them are more girl stuff.”
“She said something about…”
It was probably cruel of him, but he loved watching her squirm, fighting to tell, or ask him things. He knew she would eventually end up in a long monologue. Throwing out words until she ended up whispering with blushing cheeks.
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