Sketch

by Laramie Briscoe

She moves her hands up to my shoulders and presses down hard on the muscles there. It hurts for a few seconds, and then the rest of the tension releases, and I let my head hang there. She continues down to my lower back, leaving me in a puddle of jelly when she’s done.

  “Better?” she asks, moving so that she stands between me and the wall.

  I move back to allow her room there, leaning in to rest my forehead on her shoulder. “Much. I’m tired, but that gave me enough motivation to clean this place up.”

  She runs her hands through my hair, pulling my lips down to hers. It’s a soft kiss, but one that lets me know she’s here. “I’ll help you. C’mon.”

  I stand there like an idiot as she grabs a trash bag from the storage room and starts moving around the room, throwing away the things people have left lying around—customers and workers alike. There’s a lump in my throat, and it’s hard to swallow against it.

  “I asked you!” I scream at her. “All those times I would ask you to come to the shop with me, it wasn’t just because I wanted you around—I did—but I needed your help.”

  She heard and she got it, and now she’s doing it without me asking. It means something—fuck it, it means everything.

  “Jesus.” She giggles. She’s behind the counter. “How many bags of mini chocolate bars does Jackie go through a day?”

  “Countless, and she can’t get her fucking wrappers in the trash. I told her last week I’m going to start docking her five cents a wrapper if I find it out of the trash can.”

  “Poor girl isn’t going to have a paycheck.” Nina smiles at me over the counter. “You have money back here too.” She holds up what looks like fifty bucks.

  “She was distracted when she left,” I explain. “Her little brother was in a fender bender. Is there a receipt back there?” I vaguely remember her telling me something about it.

  “Yeah, it’s right here.”

  “Can you ring it up for me? Put fifty dollars and press walk-in and then do cash. It’ll cash it out.”

  She does as I ask. “Do you leave all this money in the register?”

  “No, look under the counter, there’s a bank bag. Put everything in it and then lock it in the safe. River will do a deposit in the morning. I’ll text him; I’m too tired to do it tonight.”

  With her help it takes me less than an hour to get the place clean, and I go around the area turning off all the unnecessary lights. “Thanks for helping me,” I tell her as I check the lock on the front door and then walk towards the back.

  “No problem.”

  “No, you’ve got to be at work in the morning, and you took time out of your night to help me when you didn’t have to. I appreciate it.” I grab her hand as I set the alarm and we go out the back door. My truck is sitting there, but her car isn’t. “Where did you park?”

  “Out front.” She points around the building, hugging her arms to herself. “I’ll see you.” She reaches up and kisses me along my jawline.

  “What? Fuck no; you aren’t walking up there by yourself.” I pull her back with my hand on her arm and tuck her in next to me, sharing my warmth as we walk around the front of the building. “This may not be the worst neighborhood in town, but it’s not the best,” I remind her.

  The street is desolate this time of night. It’s minutes to midnight, and most people are at home, some poor souls are headed to work, or like me, getting off work. I walk her over to her car, where she leans against the driver’s side door. Nina’s a small girl and I’m a tall guy. Her leaning against the car causes me to tower higher over her. Using my hands, I push her hair back from her face and cup her cheeks. “Thanks for coming to see me. Sorry I put you to work.”

  Her arms go around my waist, her fingers tangle in the thermal material of the shirt I’m wearing. “It was nice. Being with you is nice.”

  I lean down, intending to give her a chaste kiss before she leaves. It does start out like that, but within seconds, I have my tongue shoved down her throat, she’s wrapped her arms around my neck and I’ve lifted her so that her legs are around my waist. Her pussy is grinding on me through our clothes, and my dick is pressed against the zipper of my jeans.

  A car drives past, honking, reminding me that we aren’t alone, no matter how much it feels like we are. Regretfully, I let her legs slip down and set her on unsteady feet. Both of us are breathing rapidly.

  “Guess I better go.” She licks her lips and puts her arms around her body again, shivering in the cold.

  “Text me and let me know you got home okay.”

  She nods, leaning in for one more hug. Shivering, she gets into her car, and I watch as her taillights disappear. I am so fucking ready for the weekend at the cabin, and it’s only Monday.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  SKETCH

  “I miss you.”

  I love the sleepiness of her voice. Glancing over at the clock on my bedside table, I see that it’s almost midnight. I yawn loudly. “I miss you too. Who knew that this week would be so busy?”

  She laughs, and the huskiness of it makes my dick stand at attention. I put my hand over myself and mentally tell my body that now isn’t the time. I have a whole weekend of debauchery in front of me and half-ass jacking it while I’m on the phone with her won’t be satisfying.

  “I know,” she groans. “This stupid committee they put me on is meeting almost every night. I’m not sure where or how I ever agreed to be on it,” she grumbles good-naturedly. “I think it’s a racket.”

  We’re quiet for a few minutes, but it’s not the awkward kind of quietness we’ve had for the past few months. We’re enjoying talking to one another, something we haven’t been able to do in months. “Did you get my flowers?” I ask her softly.

  “Sketch, I did!”

  I can hear the smile in her voice, and my heart expands in my chest. “I wanted to bring them to you myself, but I’ve been so busy trying to finish up Reaper’s piece, and I’m not sure of your schedule…” I trail off.

  “No, no. They were perfect! Everybody at work talked about how lucky I am to have a husband who sends me flowers after so many years together.”

  That makes me feel good. I know both of us have messed up a time or two, but I’m trying to make this right, I’m trying to move us to a new path. “I’m glad you like them.”

  “I love them.” She giggles. “I asked the delivery guy if he had the right Nina Solomon, and he just laughed at me and said he knew you, and he knew who I was. You’ve tattooed him before?”

  I run my hand through my hair. “I feel like I’ve tattooed everybody before,” I admit. “It’s weird though; I can keep them all straight in my head. I figured after this long it’d be hard, but you put someone in front of me who had a custom piece, and I can tell you who they are, the piece, and what it’s about.”

  The conversation is getting a little heavier than I want it to. Everything doesn’t have to revolve around me, the shop, or the tattoos. “Are you excited about going to the cabin?” I ask, kicking my legs out from under the covers; I’m fucking hot.

  “Very excited. It’s been so long since we’ve been there,” she says as I hear her rustling around.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, my voice dropping to a lower octave. I told myself I wasn’t going to do this, but I’m intrigued when I hear the covers still rustling.

  “Taking off my pajama pants. It’s hot,” she tells me.

  “I know,” I agree. “The temps are cooler, but when you turn on your heat you’re dying because it’s so hot at night.”

  “Right, so I’m strippin’.” She giggles again.

  “Strippin’ down to what?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  She breathes heavily. “A pair of boy shorts.”

  My dick is back to being hard again. “Is that all?” I ask, my voice darker than I ever remember it being.

  “Yeah,” she whispers.

  A fantasy pops into my head, one I’ve wanted for a very long time, but I’
m not sure if she’ll go for it. I’m not sure if she’s comfortable enough in our newfound freakdom to take it to this level. “Why don’t you FaceTime me as you get yourself off?”

  “Sketch.” I can hear the embarrassment in her voice. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  Turning the bedside lamp on so that there is enough light for her to see, I wiggle out of my boxers and grip myself in my hand. Moving my phone down and fixing the camera so that I make sure she gets an eyeful, I press the FaceTime button.

  She answers, and I can hear her sharp intake of breath. My hand is on my length, squeezing the head as a clear drop of fluid pearls at the tip. “Sketch, that’s hot,” she says when I use the palm of my hand to rub that wetness down my cock.

  “Do it, babe. Put your hand down your panties and use your fingers to fuck yourself.” I bite my lip as I say those words to her. They make me hotter, just saying them. “I want to hear you.”

  I tilt the phone up so that I can see what she’s doing to herself. On my end, I see her move the strip of cloth to the side. She’s keeping them on, and that’s hot as fuck—hotter than I imagined it would be. I’m watching her finger strum against her clit, but I can’t fully see it because the fabric is hiding it from my view.

  Pumping my hips against my fist, I inhale sharply as I hear her moan. Then I hear her fingers tunnel inside her body, and I’m toast.

  “Sketch, I’m so close.”

  Fuck, me too, but I want to hear her. I want to see it happen with her first.

  “Have you been thinking about this all day?” I ask her.

  “Yes,” she moans. “You’ve turned me into someone who thinks about nothing but sex. I go around every day in a state of half arousal just thinking about the next time I can see you,” she admits.

  I can hear her plunging her fingers faster; can hear her breathing get choppy. My rhythm is getting sloppy as I listen, and I spread my legs, planting my feet on the bed.

  “Go, baby, let me hear you,” I instruct her, moaning along with her.

  “I’m dripping against my palm, I’m so wet,” she tells me, and I am too.

  Using the lubrication I jack my cock faster, almost furiously, wanting to race to the end. There is no slow here. I want this to happen, and I know she does too.

  As I hear her yell my name, I let myself go, splashing myself against my stomach, breathing heavily. Sweat is pouring down my face and chest, and I sound like I just did my three miles.

  She’s moved her phone up so that I can see her face. She’s covering it with her hand, and I can tell she’s embarrassed. I grin at her. “Goodnight, Nina.”

  She smiles. “Goodnight, Sketch, love you.”

  And with that she’s gone, disconnecting the call. I laugh as I lean back against my pillow. She surprises me as much as I surprise myself, every day.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  SKETCH

  This week has been insanity. I haven’t seen Nina since Monday night. We’ve texted and we’ve even talked on the phone, something we haven’t done since we were dating. I’m finishing up the last part of the tattoo I’m going to put on Reaper’s back. He comes in today, and while I’m excited to see my friend, I’m fucking nervous he’s not going to like what I’ve done.

  Good luck with your piece today. Do you want me to meet you at the shop tonight, or are you coming to get me?

  I glance down at the phone sitting beside me. I’m behind the shop, sitting at a picnic table, enjoying a cigarette before Reaper’s scheduled to be here. He parks out back with us, so I’ll know when he gets here.

  My thoughts are very clear with what I want her to do. I’ve packed my bag in my truck; as soon as it hits six-o’clock, my ass is out of here. Reaper plans to sit for six hours, and I know him, he’ll be here a little early, we’ll shoot the shit, and then he will sit. When he sits, he sits. He’s a consummate professional and takes it like one.

  Meet me here. Reaper’s sitting until six. Plan for about fifteen minutes later, and I have something I want you to do.

  I wait for a few minutes. She’s probably at lunch, so I don’t think I’ll have to wait long.

  What’s that? :)

  I see Reaper roll up in his Land Rover, waving at me as he parks. I’m gonna send this text and then set my phone down. I want her to stew on this all motherfucking day.

  When you get home, take those clamps out of the package and put them on. You better be wearing them when you get here.

  I smirk to myself as I turn the phone on silent and put it in my back pocket.

  “What’s up, my man?” I ask as I put my cigarette out and get up to greet my friend.

  “Things are good,” he says as he claps my hand and pulls me in for a half-hug. “How are things going with you?”

  “It’s going good,” I tell him. “Nina and I have been having some problems, but we’re working things out.” It feels good to tell someone what I’ve been through and to admit that things are looking up.

  Reaper grins at me. “Gotta water that grass, my man. Sometimes it’s hard to get that alone time, but you’ve gotta do it. Even worse when you have a cock-blocking son, but you do what you have to.”

  I laugh as he mentions the child he and Harmony had almost a year ago. “How’s EJ?”

  “Dude, he looks so much like me it’s fucking scary.” He’s reaching into his back pocket, pulling out his phone and showing me a picture of his son. “He acts like me too. I’m already dreading when he’s a teenager, I know what a fuck face I was.” He laughs.

  “At least you know what to look forward to.” I clap him on the back as we make our way into the building.

  I go into the room off the main area and grab the drawing I’ve done. Reaper is making his way around the shop, saying hi to all the employees. There’s one person getting inked, and he’s looking up in awe. Reaper makes a point to say hi to him too before he walks back over to me. “We’ll go in here, like normal,” I tell him. I don’t like to ink him out in the main area—too many gawkers.

  “Let’s see what you got for me. You know I trust you to make it badass.”

  Taking a deep breath, I show him the tattoo and wait to hear what he’s going to say. I reach over and run my finger along the sheet music. “I left this blank; in case you and the wife have more kids, but I can easily fill it in with some shading if that’s not in the cards.”

  I don’t like getting into his personal life, but tattooing is personal, and when I do have to delve deeper, I do my best to be respectful about it.

  “We do plan on having more. Not right now, obviously.”

  “Because of the cock blocking.” I laugh.

  “That too, but she’s decided to work on a new album, and that’s tiring enough without being pregnant. We’re thinking about trying again when EJ turns two.”

  “That seems to be a good age. Then you won’t have two in diapers.”

  Reaper shakes his head. “Oh fuck, I know. And at least one sleeping through the night.”

  I laugh as he shivers. “So if this looks good, I’m gonna put it on some transfer. Go ahead and take your shirt off and lie face down on the table.”

  “How many sessions are we looking at?” he asks as he lets his body go lax and gets comfortable on the table. I prep his back and then grab some transfer paper.

  “Depends on what we get done today, but I’m thinking three, maybe four, depending on how I feel about the shading.”

  “I’m ready. I told Hannah I was doing this up big.”

  I bring the paper over and lay it on his back. “Doing it up big is an understatement. This is gonna cover your whole back.” I lay it down and get it situated how I like it. “Go check it out in the mirrors and let me know if that’s where you want it.”

  “Looks good,” he confirms, lying down on the table again.

  I get my colors set up and put my gloves on. “Let’s get to work.”

  *

  I glance up at the clock on the wall and see it’s nearing s
ix o’clock. True to my prediction, Reaper has sat for the whole thing, not once moving a muscle, being a model client. “I’m gonna finish this one section, and we’ll be done for the day. You good with that?”

  “Yeah.” He nods. “I’m starting to get sore.”

  “You’re definitely going to feel it later on tonight and tomorrow,” I tell him as I finish up and start patching him up. “Might want to keep that shirt off if it means anything to you.” I take my gloves off and move to the small fridge we have in this room.

  He gets up off the table, and I hand him a single-serve size of orange juice. After trauma to the skin like this, some people’s blood sugars drop, and I always offer it. He takes it and downs it in one drink, knowing his body needs it. Turning around in the mirror, he whistles. “Damn, dude, I wish I had your fucking talent. This is beyond what I thought it would be.”

  I smile, fucking grateful he loves it. “Awesome. You want to go ahead and pay for today or do you want me to bill you for the entire thing?” I ask. It doesn’t matter to me, I know he’s good for it, but I like to make sure.

  He reaches over into his pants pocket and hands me a black Amex. “Stick a 20 percent tip on there for you,” he tells me as he gingerly puts his shirt on.

  “Thank you.” I don’t expect it, but he always tips well because he appreciates the hard work I put in.

  I walk out into the main area and hand the card to Jackie, telling her to run it for $950. I stretch out my neck and back and finally pull my phone out of my jeans pocket. There’s only one text from Nina; I’m kind of surprised there aren’t more. It’s time stamped an hour ago, and it’s a media message. I click on it to open it.

  It’s a picture of Nina wearing those rings, her lips pursed in a kiss.

  I’m fucking hard. I’m fucking ready. Let’s do this.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Nina

  I’ve never been this turned on in my life. When I’d gotten the text and Sketch asked me to put these nipple rings on, I hadn’t imagined I would feel like a whole new woman. Right now, I am watching the clock, wondering when the fuck it’s going to be time for me to meet him at the shop.