A new guy.
And it still has me wondering what the fuck?
Well, for the past six months or so, she's come to me flirting and taunting me with her body. Asking, I take her out and begging to excite her in more ways than one by taking her for a ride on my motorcycle. But then she had the nerve to corner me in my private room and bat her beautiful long thick eyelashes at me while asking if I was interested in having a threesome with her and this guy she recently hooked up with.
Having threesomes was shit I did when I was young, dumb, and full of cum. Hell, I'm still full of that and extremely anxious to get laid, but in all honesty, I'm not that fucking desperate to get myself involved in some shitty threesome with a beautiful babe named Bianca and a guy I don't even fucking know.
The longer I sit here at my desk drawing my next potential client's tattoo, the more I think about Ginger, my wants and needs, and how the argument with her even happened. I dropped my pencil, leaned back in my chair, and groaned while closing my eyes and rubbing my face.
Thinking of Ginger and sex wasn't getting me anywhere. All it was doing was getting me more frustrated. Knowing I needed to focus on work, I let out a long exasperated sigh, lowered my hands, and picked up the drawing, staring at it for the longest time. The sketch turned out perfectly, but the woman wanting this particular tattoo inked into her body is a virgin. She's never been inked; the only thing pierced on her body are her ears, and she reminds me of Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. Pure and Innocent.
A knock at the door got my attention. I set the drawing down, then headed to the door. "Hey, Emerald. What's up?"
"There's a woman here to see you."
I raised my arm, looked at my watch, then looked back at Emerald. "My next appointment isn't supposed to be here for another half hour. Is she early?"
Emerald flashed her pearly whites and slowly shook her head. "Nah, this isn't your appointment; the woman out there looking at the pictures on the wall is someone who doesn't have an appointment and who specifically asked to see you."
The way Emerald was smiling at me told me the woman was someone I knew. My heart stopped beating. It had me thinking it was either Ginger, which I hope it isn't. Or it's my best friend, Shiloh, who moved from Vegas to Malibu a while back to marry the love of her life. I crossed my fingers, peeked my head around her, and smiled while asking. "Is it Shiloh?"
"No," Emerald giggled. "It's not her or Ginger if that's who you think it is. I'm not exactly sure who she is. All I know is that she's cute and that she wants to see only you..."
"Yes. Cute and innocent. You know, the ones that seem to be coming in here lately," Emerald smiled. "Now hurry and see what she wants before your appointment arrives."
I'm not going to lie; I felt bummed to hear that it wasn't Shiloh. When I left Malibu, she mentioned she would be coming to visit soon, wanting me to pop her cherry. She, too, was a virgin with tattoos, and after she saw what I did to her husband's body, she asked that I be the one to ink some memorable tattoos on her too.
As I walked closer to the woman with the long blonde hair looking at the best tattoos I've done, something inside me told me I knew her, and when she turned around, and I saw who it was, the corners of my lips raised. "Lindsay? What are you doing here?"
"Hey, Roscoe. I'm here to see what you could do to my pathetic-looking leg. Shiloh insisted that I see you instead of the guy I had originally planned on seeing."
My eyes shot down to her legs, and then they shot up to her eyes. I knew she was Shiloh's friend, and now that she said she wants a tattoo on her leg, I remember which one of her friends she was.
"Ah, yeah," I extended my hand towards her, then rested it on her back. "Come back with me." I walked her to my lair, closed the door, and then had her sit on the chair. I remember Shiloh telling me about her friend and how a shark attacked her and that she had some significant scarring on her leg.
Without me asking, she stood, raised her skirt, and with a curious look in her eye, she asked, "Is there any possibility you could cover these horrendous scars?"
Shiloh wasn't kidding when she said Lindsay had significant scarring from the shark attack, and as I looked and studied the scars on her leg, I asked, "Is there anything particular you would like inked in that area?"
She sighed, "Not really. I just want it covered, somehow. And Shiloh insisted that you're the best and that I come to see you, to see what kinds of ideas you could help me come up with."
I had her sit on the tattooing table. And as I stared at the scars, trying to think of some ideas, I asked, "Can I feel the scars? I need to get a feeling of the skin and what I'd be working with." I looked up at her eyes and smirked. "Don't worry; I'm not trying to get fresh with you or anything. It's that some scars can be hard to work with."
She giggled. "Of course, you can. You're my friend's best friend... so, I trust you."
I arched a brow. "You trust me, yet, you were about to see another tattoo artist," I teased while getting a feel of her scars.
"I wasn't thinking. And to tell you the truth, I totally forgot what you did for a living. When I mentioned what I was thinking of doing, Shiloh scolded me for not thinking of you first."
I looked up. "It's a good thing you talked to Shiloh. These are some deep scars, and it takes a well-experienced artist to cover up something like these. Not to mention it's hard to find one that's willing or even comfortable enough to cover something like this."
Her brows lowered, innocently asking, "But you can?"
I winked. "I can do anything."
She let out a breath of relief, "Good. Because I'm scared as hell to do this."
"Scared? If that's the case, you might want to think even harder about doing anything like this."
"I have," she admitted. She looked down at her leg, then ran her fingers over the scarring. "I've thought long and hard. Months, actually. And because of the looks of the scars, I feel uncomfortable wearing the things I used to enjoy wearing. I don't even want to wear a swimsuit anymore, afraid of people staring and questioning what happened. I'm also scared of getting affectionate with a man, thinking once they see the scars, I'll never hear from them again," she sighed, looking saddened.
I looked back at her leg. "If men do anything like that, then they're not worth your time. A real man accepts any scarring," I admitted, hoping to give her some better hope.
"Shiloh always said you had a good heart; I only wish all men were that way."
"Some of us were raised better than others," I winked. "Unfortunately, it is what it is, and some of the men out there need a good ass whooping," I chuckled. "But you're a pretty girl, and I know you'll find that special someone that'll accept your wounds."
Her hand rested on top of mine. "Please help me cover the scars. It'll make me feel much more confident once they're hidden."
I nodded. "If this is what you truly want to do, then, yes, I'll help hide these wounds."
A serene smile formed on her face. "Thank you."
"You're welcome... so... you're going to have to help me out here. I don't know you all that well, and I'm not sure what your likes and dislikes are... There must be something special you have in mind?"
"At first, I was thinking of a shark. But the longer I thought of it; I felt I didn't need more of a reminder of what that massive fish did to me. So then I thought some more, and since I'm a huge fan of flowers, I'm more curious if it's something that will work? I know flowers and butterflies are overrated and always inked, but I want something beautiful to cover something ugly."
"Flowers are good. And they can definitely help cover what you wish to hide." I looked away from her eyes and down at her leg. I thought for a moment, then smiled while my eyes met back with hers. "Because of who you are, and since I know the story of how you got these battle wounds, I'm willing to give you a deal."
Her face perked up. "Deal? What kind of deal?"
"An excellent deal. And here's why. The size, the shading, and the coloring of the tattoo that it will take to cover these wounds will be very costly, and because you're a friend of Shiloh's, I'm willing to do this for damn near nothing."
Her face softened. "I can't allow you to do this for nothing, Roscoe. That's not why I came to see you."
I reached for her hand, helped her up, then gave her an assuring smile I hoped would make her smile. "I know it isn't. But this is my tattoo shop, and believe it or not; I like bringing smiles to pretty faces. Shiloh was pretty upset about what happened to you, and she always worried and feared that the scarring on your leg would cause you to go into the depression world that no friend wants to see their friend going into. And because of the kind of guy I am, I would like to help that not happen. So, before you head out, leave your number with Emerald, I'll come up with some drawings, and then I'll give you a call when I've finished. We'll go from there. You must also remember, this will be on you for life. So, while I'm drawing up something for you, I'd like to ask that you think again about this. I want to make sure you're not going to regret this and that it'll be something you'll be happy with forever."
"I also have scars that will be with me forever, and whatever you can do to beautify them, I know I'd be happy with for life. I'm sure of it," she heavily assured.
I walked her to the door. "I understand. But you've got to know that it's also my job to ask any of my clients, with me also insisting they think long and hard about what they're about to do before something as big as the one you would like on your leg gets inked onto their body."
"I know. But to assure you, this is what I want, and I'd like you to know that I trust you with your judgment."
That's a relief.
"Okay... how's my friend doing, anyway?" I asked, opening the door.
"Is she pregnant again?"
"No," Lindsay giggled, "not yet. But they're trying again, though."
I laughed, "So she's still going for the five kid mark."
I walked her straight over to Emerald. "See what you can do to get her on the schedule."
"You know you're booked for the next month," Emerald warned.
"Yes, I know. This one will be an appointment for the approval of the artwork. Then, we'll go from there."
Emerald curiously looked at Lindsay, and then she looked at me with a devilish smirk. I know what she's thinking, and when I'm done with my next client, I'll have to inform her. This isn't some way for me to get into her pants.
I rested my hand on Emerald's shoulder, winked, and grinned. "Emerald, this is Lindsay. Shiloh's best friend. Please do what you can to squeeze her in. Thanks."
I walked into the lobby, and when I saw who my next client was, I groaned. It's no wonder why Emerald was giving me the shit-eating grin. She knew if she warned me about who my next client was, I'd find a way to pawn her off to my partner.
I don't know why I'm fretting the way I am right now; it's not like she wasn't on my mind before Lindsay came in. I rubbed the back of my neck when our eyes locked. "Ginger..."
"About time," she scowled, her eyes wandering to Lindsay as she stood.
Is she kidding me right now?
I rolled my eyes. "You've only had to wait five minutes. So fucking sue me."
"I should," she hissed as she brushed past me.
Now, I remember one of the reasons why I kicked Ginger out of my apartment in the first place. And why Shiloh always called her a specific name—a bitch. I turned around, and as I walked past Emerald, I glared and pointed at her, mouthing, "You're in deep shit."
Emerald smiled, shrugged, then, being the smart ass she is, she said, "You're welcome. Have fun!"
Ginger immediately sat on the chair, got herself comfortable, then crossed her arms. "So. How have you been?"
"Fine," I groaned, trying not to make eye contact.
"Fine? You don't look fine. You look more like you're sexually frustrated."
"Nope. I'm good. What brings you in today, anyway?"
"Obviously, I'm here to get inked."
I finally looked her way, furrowing my brows. "And I had to be the one to ink you? Couldn't you have made an appointment with Jagger? He's good at what he does."
"No. I only want you pounding into my skin," Ginger confessed, smirking. Knowing damn well her choice of words would irk me. "Did Emerald not give you my design I drew?"
"She did, but what she failed to tell me was that it was yours."
"I asked her not to say anything. Actually, I had to pay her to keep her mouth shut."
At least Emerald got more money out of her.
I sighed while grabbing the drawing off my desk and looked at it once again. "Where do you want me to ink you this time?"
The corners of her lips slowly raised. "My pussy."
I coughed. "I don't think so."
"Why not? You've done many of them before, so what's the big deal?"
I lowered the drawing to my side. "That's irrelevant. I don't care about how many I've done before; I'm not doing yours."
She huffed. "I'm not leaving until you do it."
I looked up to the ceiling, closed my eyes, and quietly sighed, "Why? What's the reasoning behind you placing the planchette right fucking there?"
My eyes quickly opened after hearing her chuckle.
"Well, with the hands resting on top of the planchette, with the words yes, no, and goodbye means a lot to me. You know as well as I that I'm a mystery. Either you're going to get what you ask for, or your not. And if you never want it again, then I say fuck it and goodbye. Anyway, your friend thinks I'm a bitch, and you think I'm a witch. And, well, I guess you're both right. So you see. This is the perfect tattoo that I wouldn't regret you carving into that delicate fleshy area of mine."
"So what you're saying is that you're aiming this tattoo towards me, and you'll get great pleasure knowing I'm the one who inked this tat on you." I shook my head, groaning, "Unbelievable..."
She smiled while shrugging a shoulder. "I thought you would like it... anyway, this is your fault I feel the way I do. You broke it off between us because of her."
"No. I didn't break it off with you for the reasons you claimed I did. Shiloh is a good friend of mine that you treated like shit. You talked nasty of her all the fucking time. You said terrible things about a little girl who I care deeply for, and you fucking hid the fact that Chaz was in town looking for her. You knew for two fucking years he was here and that she was missing him. Then you admit the only reason you finally said anything was that you were afraid Shiloh and I were going to hook up? A woman who I was adamantly clear on numerous occasions that we were only friends, and that was all we'd ever be?"
"When I saw you with her daughter, I thought I lost you."
"We were never a couple, Ginger," I groaned. "what we were doing then was what we agreed only to be doing from the beginning. Loveless, unmeaningful sex. Sex to quench our needs. And when the time came, if one of us were to find someone, we'd walk away from each other, no questions asked."
"Yeah, well, my feelings grew stronger the more time we spent together, and I was afraid to say anything because of what we agreed upon from the start."
"And to think I was this close to fucking calling you earlier," I muttered, holding up my hand and nearly pinching my thumb and pointer finger together.
"You miss having sex with me. Don't you," Ginger happily said, looking excited.
"I don't miss having sex with you. I miss getting laid," I admitted, groaning.
I don't know why I'm prolonging Ginger being here in this room. And the only thing I can come up with is that I, too, at one time started growing feelings for her. Shiloh always liked claiming we were a couple. To which I always denied. But now that she's here, asking me to ink an area I claimed as mine nearly every night for over four years has me realizing we were, in fact, a couple.
Ginger was the one who ruined what we had, all because of her jealously of my friendship with Shiloh. And because of what she did back then and my thoughts of wanting to call her earlier, the best thing I need to do is give each side of my face a couple of hard slaps.
That'll wake me up to stop thinking I need to get laid by Ginger. There's a woman out there for me, and if I quit thinking Ginger is the only one who can satisfy my needs; finally, I'll find that one woman I'll allow to own my heart.
Ginger snapped her fingers in my face, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Hello? Are you there?"
"Are you going to ink me, or what?"
I didn't want to do it. But knowing what I know about the healing process for genital tattoos, it'll give me great pleasure knowing how sore Ginger will be and the infections that could arise while the tattoo is trying to heal. I also know that if I were to ink her in that particular area, I know for a fact that I wouldn't even be thinking twice of calling her, looking to satisfy my wants and needs. Doing what she wants will only give me more incentive to stay away from her.
And it will give me all the time I'd need to search for the woman I could see myself waking up next to every day for the rest of my life.
I looked at her, and with a cocky smile, I ordered, "Let's get this over with. Now strip."
FYI... this is a standalone story. But it is also based off another story The Lifeguard. If you haven't read that story, it'll give you a better insight of how this story came about.