by Hope Ford
She almost interrupts me. She’s chomping at the bit to get her two cents in. “She’s the one, Ozzie. I’m telling you, she’s the one.”
I walk up the back stairs to my apartment. “Who?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Ozzie Cunningham, I’m not in the mood for this. You have that poor girl thinking you don’t like her when it’s obvious you do. Now you need to get it together.”
“Ma, I’m not ready to start dating. We’ve been over this.”
She huffs loudly in the phone. “Are you really that dense? She’s the ONE, Ozzie. I couldn’t have picked out a better woman for you if I tried. Now you need to quit acting like you’re not worthy or whatever you got going on over there or you’re going to fuck this up.”
Yeah, my mom is cussing me. She was raised hard, and she’s always been one to say it like it is. But the love she has behind the words doesn’t even let me question her. However, I do know I better not try to throw an “f” word back at her. I tense up just thinking about it. No doubt the woman would try to bend me over her knee for it.
“Ma, I’m not trying to mess it up. And she seems nice, but you have to let me live my life,” I tell her point blank.
She sighs loudly in the phone. “I just want you happy. You deserve this, Oz. You more than anyone else I know deserves to have love.”
“I know, Mom. I just need to work through a few things, that’s all.”
She’s quiet for the longest time. “Okay, I’ll stay out of it.”
She says the words, but I know it’s far from the truth. There’s no way she’s going to let something she feels so strongly about go. But I don’t want to argue with her about it. Not anymore. “Thanks, Ma.”
“Well, I’m still going to have lunch with her sometime next week. I mean, just because you don’t have any sense doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with her.”
I sit down on the couch and lean back, resting my head on the cushion. “That’s good, Ma. I’m glad you have a new friend.”
She snorts. “You act like I’m some middle schooler or something, but whatever.”
I know I shouldn’t ask. I should change the subject, but I have to know. “So, uh, what did you and Ginger talk about?”
“We talked about everything. She’s so beautiful, and I’m not talking just on the outside, she is on the inside too. We talked about her family and the store. We talked about you...”
She trails off, and I know the only way I’m going to get the answer is to ask. “What about me?”
She coughs into the phone. “Well, I told her everything. I told her the truth. I knew you wouldn’t, and I thought she had a right to know.”
She clams up after that, and I wait for her to go on. Every thought is going through my head. I’ll never see her again. She’s definitely not going to come see me again. I realize now that I had some hope that maybe she could see past it, but hell, if I can’t, it wouldn’t be right to ask her to.
“Good,” I finally say, breaking the silence.
“All right, I have to get back to work, but I need to say one more thing. Wait, two more.”
I roll my eyes. “What is it, Ma?”
“Number one, don’t let this chance pass you by. I don’t want you to lose her, and I don’t think you do either. Number two, I love you, son.”
I tell her I love her too and hang up the phone. It’s only then that I let her words sink in. Am I going to be okay just letting Ginger go and not knowing if we actually could have something good together? Yeah, I want her, there’s no doubt about it, but she’s not the type of girl that I can just fuck to get her out of my head. I do know that much. But I don’t know if I have anything else to offer.
I sit here, thinking about it all when my phone dings that it’s time for my next appointment. I do my best to put Ginger out of my head and go back downstairs. My plan is to get lost in my work and not think about anything else. I have three more appointments, and one of them will take me around two hours to complete. Now all I have to do is ignore all the thoughts of Ginger’s big dark eyes, her curvy body, and her laugh that makes goosebumps raise on my arms. No, I can’t think about any of that.
7
Ginger
Dancing is usually my thing. I do it at least once a week, and not only does it give me exercise, but it also makes me happy. So on the weekends I go to the Tipsy Cow and line dance with my friends. Tonight, I need it more than ever.
I’ve had a couple of beers, and I’m hanging with one of my old friends from high school. We were never really close, but she loves to dance as much as I do, and we meet up here around once a month. We are talking about our week, and I’m showing her my tattoo. She oohs and aahhs over it before she asks, “I love it. Did Ozzie do it?”
My gaze flicks to hers, and I hate the feeling of bile rising in my throat. Just hearing another woman say his name is upsetting. I have no right to be jealous or anything, but I am. I clear my throat. “Do you know Ozzie?”
She takes a big gulp of her bottle and almost slams it down. “Yeah, I know him. Damn, he’s hot, isn’t he?”
My face heats. I try to keep my voice calm, but I can hear the edge in my tone. “He’s a nice guy.”
She looks surprised and eyes me closely. “What? You like him?”
I shrug my shoulders, and she starts to laugh. “You might as well give it up. I tried to get him to go out with me. Heck, I pretty much told him I’m a sure thing, but he wasn’t interested.”
My heart is racing, and I want to smile, but I don’t. So it’s not just me. Maybe he really has sworn off women.
I don’t have time to think about it before a couple of guys come over to the table. They’re flirty and obviously interested in both Kaitlyn and me. Normally, I’d flirt back and even dance with them, but tonight, all I can think about is Ozzie.
I have another drink as we all sit around the table and talk and laugh. One asks me to dance, and I tell him, “Sure. I just have to make a phone call real quick. I’ll be right back.”
I walk to the edge of the bar and pull my phone out. The numbers are blurry. No doubt I’ll be calling my sister for a ride later. But now I dial the number for the Cherry Bomb Tattoo Parlor.
“Cherry Bomb,” a man says.
I try to keep my voice even and control the slight slurring I have. “Hi. May I speak to Ozzie please?”
I sound almost official, like this is a business call instead of a booty call.
“Sure, may I ask who’s calling?”
I hiccup and snort. “Uh, Ginger.”
The man says, “Hey, Oz, you got a phone call. There’s music in the background, but it sounds like she said her name is Ginger.”
I hold my breath, wondering if he’s going to blow me off or not, but in only a few seconds, I hear Ozzie’s voice over the line. “Hey, Ginger. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I forgot to control the slur, but the happiness of hearing him say my name comes over me.
“Where are you at?”
I hear Kaitlyn and the two men behind me, laughing. “The Tipsy Cow. The reason I am calling is I’m wondering if maybe you’ve changed your mind?”
“Changed my mind about what?”
I laugh then. “If you want to go out with me?”
He takes a second before he responds, “Ginger, we talked about this...”
“You’re right. I know we have. I’m just wondering if maybe you could give me a chance, that’s all.”
When he doesn’t say anything, it’s like I can feel my heart deflate in my chest. “Look, I’m sorry I keep bothering youuuuuu,” I say dragging out the u.
“Are you drinking?” he asks.
“Yeah. Drinking and dancing.”
When he doesn’t respond, I almost just hang up the phone. I pull it from my ear and stare at it before putting it to my ear again. “Look, I get the message. I won’t be calling you anymore.”
“Ginger, wait,” he says as the same time one of the guys from the table comes up to me and puts his h
ands on my shoulder. “You ready to dance?”
“Yeah, go on out there, I’ll be there in a minute,” I tell him, even though dancing is now the last thing I want to do. “Look, Oz, I’ll let you go.” My voice is strangled, filled with emotion as I click the hang-up button.
Ozzie
Fuck!
I want to scream into the phone. I’m only halfway into the two-hour tattoo when I get the call from Ginger. I should just go back to work, but I know I can’t. The pain in her voice when she thought I was turning her down is my undoing. Well, either that or the fact that some asshole is obviously hitting on her. That could be it too.
I leave the shop with the promise to my client that I will finish his tattoo next week and I’ll do it for free. I’ve never offered a free piece before, but I know that nothing, not even money is going to stop me from driving out to the Tipsy Cow to check on Ginger.
I slam my brakes as I pull into the parking lot and almost run to the door. Once in, I stand there and watch the dance floor looking for her. My gaze goes directly to her. And she’s dancing, but thank God she’s not actually in the arms of some man. She’s doing some kind of line dance with a bunch of other people. There’s a man that is right next to her and keeps watching her, but she is not looking at him. She’s doing the moves but almost like it’s second nature to her and she doesn’t even have to think about it. She looks a little sad and deep in thought. I move closer to the edge of the dance floor and watch her. The longer I stand here, the more aroused I get, but I can’t look away. When she finally lifts her head, she looks straight at me. The way her face transforms into a huge smile as she walks toward me tells me I made the right decision. Coming to see her was the right thing to do.
She’s in my arms before I even realize what I’m doing. I hold her to me, burying my nose in her hair and inhaling deeply.
She pulls back and looks at me with a mix of surprise and longing on her face. “You came.”
I should pull away. I should tell her that I only came to make sure she’s all right and walk out the door, but I can’t. Not now that I have her in my arms, and her body is pressed against mine. “Yeah, I’m here. I needed to make sure you were all right.”
Her hands go around my waist as she rests her chin on my chest. Her eyes are glassy, reminding me that she’s been drinking. “I’m good now.”
The music is loud and goes from a fast-paced line dance to a slow dance. Ginger releases me only enough to reach for my hand. “Will you dance with me?”
As if I can say no. I nod my head and let her lead me out onto the dance floor. She curls her body into me and holds me tight. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t like to dance, I don’t like to be the center of attention, but I do like having Ginger in my arms. That much I’m sure of.
We sway back and forth to the music. I see the guy that was trying for her attention, and when I give him the look, he walks off the dance floor. There’s no way I would let him cut in. I can’t. Physically, I know I would not be able to watch her walk away from me and into another man’s arms.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asks, and it’s then I realize that I had tensed up just thinking about her and another man. I’m in way over my head right now. A part of me wants to run, and another part of me wants to grab her by the hand, take her home with me, and never let her go.
I shake my head side to side, not ready to tell her what’s bothering me.
The song is almost over, and Ginger pulls my neck down so she can talk in my ear. “Will you take me home?”
I should tell her I’ll call her sister and David. I should do a lot of things, but I do the one I want. “Yes, I’ll take you home.”
She puts her hand in mine and starts to stumble, and I put my hands on her hips to steady her. She turns her head and smiles up at me. “If I knew that was the way to get your hands on me, I would have fallen sooner.”
She’s back to her flirty self, and I can’t resist smiling at her.
She leads me to her friends, and with a tight grip on my hand, she tells her girlfriend she’s leaving. The woman is staring at me the whole time. I recognize her from the shop, but I don’t act like I do. What I remember of her, I know I don’t need to give her any indication that I want to have a conversation with her, that’s for sure. She takes things a little too far.
Ginger and I walk outside, and I help her into my car. When I get onto Main Street, I do what I’ve thought about doing since I got in: I reach for her hand and hold it on the middle console. She leans toward me, and her breasts press against my arm. I’m hard, but I have been since I first saw her on the dance floor.
“Ginger.” I say her name because she has her face nuzzled into my neck, and my need for her intensifies.
Her soft voice whispers against my skin. “I like you, Ozzie.”
I clear my throat. “I like you too. I shouldn’t, but I do,” I admit.
She rests her head on me, her one hand in mine, the other dragging her nails softly up and back down my arm. The ride to her house is short, and when I pull into her driveway, I almost burst out the door, knowing I need to put some space between us.
When I walk around to open her door, she’s already out and meeting me. It’s as if she knows that I’m going to try and leave, and she wants to stop me. “Please don’t leave yet. Stay... just for a little while.”
Say no, say no, I tell myself, but I find myself nodding my head. “Okay.”
I follow behind her, trying to be respectful and not watching the way her ass swings back and forth as she climbs the steps to her front door. She opens it and lets me in, shutting it behind me.
I stand still, watching her. My hands are itching to touch her, and I can’t stop myself. “Can I kiss you, Ginger?”
She nods with a smirk. “You can do anything you want to me, Oz.”
I grunt at the image that puts in my head. She’s going to be the death of me.
I walk toward her and wrap my arms around her. One hand goes to the nape of her neck, holding on to her hair, and I pull her head backwards to where she has to look at me. I stand just like that and stare into her eyes for what seems like the longest time. I know exactly what is going to happen when our lips do finally meet again. Slowly I lean down and touch my lips to hers. She moans deep in her throat, and I swallow it. It's a frenzied battle as our lips and tongues meet.
I should stop. I know that I should. But I do the opposite. I bend down and put my arm behind her legs and lift her up. I carry her into the living room and sit with her in my lap on the couch. The feel of her breasts pressed against my chest makes my cock even harder in my jeans. I know she can feel it pressing it against her ass by the way she wiggles, pressing herself into me. The kiss goes deeper on every level until I have to pull away before I lose all sense of responsibility. She's been drinking, and I'm on edge, and that's not a good mix.
But as soon as I start to pull away, her hands tighten on me, and she groans. “No please don't stop.”
I shake my head. “Ginger, baby, you've been drinking.”
She says, “Please, Ozzie, please don't stop. It hurts.” She grabs my hands and puts it between her legs. “Please make it stop.”
Her skirt is wedged high on her hips, and she puts my hand right onto her hot core.
I move my hand, and she tries to stop me. “Please don’t stop,” she begs.
I kiss her lips. “I’m not.”
She releases my hand, and I slide my hand between her thighs as her legs fall open wide. I press one finger to the sodden middle of her panties. They’re soaked, and my chest bows, knowing that she’s wet like this for me. She wants me, and there’s nothing I want more than to pleasure her.
I use my finger to edge my hand into the side of her panties, and she groans as I slide through her wet, swollen lips. Her hips buck, and I can’t stop the smile that has formed on my face. “You like that?”
She moans and bucks her hips again. I just touched her and already she’s clos
e. I can feel it, but the way her eyes are huge and almost shocked in her face, I don’t know if she knows it. “What is it, baby? What’s wrong?”
I ask her the question, but I don’t stop tormenting her clit. It’s swollen and needy, so I whirl my fingers around it as her hands grip on to me tighter. “Oh my God,” she moans.
I lean my face close to her. She’s a flirt, I’ve found that out. And men seem to fall over her, but this is new for her. I know it is. “Come for me, baby. I need you to come on my hand.”
She shakes her head side to side, almost like she’s unsure about it all. “I got you, Ginger,” I tell her, looking straight into her eyes.
She’s staring back at me, and I watch as the orgasm starts to rage through her body. She tenses up, her eyes are huge in her face, and a look of utter, absolute ecstasy takes over her face. I don’t stop until she’s done riding my hand and her body is lax against mine. My cock is still hard, but there’s no way I’m going to make this about me. Now when she’s been drinking.
I pull my hand from between her legs, and I know I’m a dirty bastard, but there’s no way I’m wasting the taste of her cream. I bring my fingers to my lips and suck them dry. Her forehead is creased, and I can tell she’s debating if she should be grossed out or turned on. But the way her eyes dilate, I know it’s the latter.
“Has anyone touched you there before?” I ask her.
She starts to pull at her skirt and sit up, but I stop her. “No don’t get upset. I just want to know. Has there ever been another man between your legs?”
My voice doesn’t even sound like my own. It’s deep and demanding. I should leave her alone about it, but I can’t. I need to know.
She shakes her head, but that still isn’t good enough.
“Say it. I need to hear you say it.”
“You’re the only one. I’ve never been with anyone before. Not like that.”
I grunt. It’s a grunt that holds way more meaning than I’m ready to go into now.
“Is that bad?” she asks curiously.
