Post Breakup Sex

by Sibylla Matilde

  “Hey,” he said as he nodded towards the monitor, “those are like the sculptures on the Blackfeet Rez.”

  “The artist is doing a show in town that starts today,” I replied, not looking at him. But also eternally grateful that the exhibit wasn’t full of massive, flowery paintings or some other thing that was totally off my radar. I’d never hear the end of it. Car parts, though… I still had my balls looking at car parts.

  “They’re pretty cool, really,” Cody mused. “I like to try and figure out what the parts are from. If you’ve never seen them, you should check it out.”

  “I dunno, man. I’ve got to get that Buick back together.”

  “Well, I can’t really go farther on the Ford until the parts come in,” he offered. “I was actually coming in here to tell you that, to see if there was something else I should be doing for while I wait. I don’t really want to you to fire me.” With a laugh, he shrugged. “Besides, you’ve got all the shitty parts done. Putting it back together is easy.”

  I didn’t see her there at first, so I just wandered around and perused the various sculptures depicting the proud Blackfeet people. Interestingly enough, I wasn’t the only greasy, gearhead at the show. I recognized a couple guys from around town who were into their American muscle cars and redneck trucks. It seemed a little strange seeing them intermingling with the more elite sect.

  I was, admittedly, greasier than some. I hadn’t changed from the shop, and I sort of imagined that I looked like I was scrounging through the sculptures like one would in a junkyard, searching for that elusive part to make a motor hum.

  As I stood admiring one piece, a young warrior on his horse, I heard the unmistakable highbrow voice of Sophie’s mother not far away from me in the crowd.

  “Oh dear,” she said. Her haughty voice sounded as though her nose was pointed straight up in the air. “These are very… interesting. But art?”

  “Art can be anything, mother,” Sophie sighed.

  I fought the almost painful urge to turn and look when I heard her, but I figured I needed to be just a touch more sneaky to avoid a scene. Everything I knew about her mother told me that I wouldn’t be well-received.

  “Art is in the eye of the beholder,” her mother sneered, “but this is garbage. These are made out of pure wreckage.”

  “Sophie,” her father said sternly, “you were with your mother in the Louvre. You know this isn’t remotely art.”

  “No amount of training seems to improve your taste, Sophie,” her mother muttered under her breath.

  A great part of me wanted to play hero again, to turn around and tell her mom to fuck off. To tell her dad what a dick he was. But, unlike when I was able to chase Richard away, her parents were a different story.

  They were fuckers, but they were still her parents, and it had been drummed into me from a young age to show respect for my elders. So, instead of putting Sophie in the middle of a crap situation, I stepped away from the piece I was viewing to wind my way through the crowd a little. I crossed to the other side of the room where I could maybe catch her eye from a distance.

  The first glance of her, as always, sort of took my breath away. Her hair was swept back from her face to fall in soft curls down her back. She wore a simple black dress that hugged her curves and almost dipped off her shoulders. Like the slightest tug could pull it down her body to reveal the ivory skin beneath it.

  As her parents continued to berate her for finding beauty in the artwork around her, Sophie exhaled deeply and began to scan the room. Her eyes wandered from one piece to the next as she nodded occasionally in response to something one of her parents said. Her eyes finally came to me, widening as I winked at her through a large piece in the middle of the room. The barest hint of a smile touched her lips as she stepped closer to the sculpture under the guise of studying the intricate twists and coils of metal. Yet her eyes kept coming back to mine. I took a step to one side, and she stepped the opposite way, setting up a slow and seductive chase around the sculpture.

  It was like a game that only the two of us were aware of.

  We continued the secretive cat and mouse as Sophie’s parents wandered off into another wing of the exhibition, a long hallway full of paintings depicting reservation lands along the Rocky Mountain Front. Seeing them step out of sight, Sophie raised her eyebrow and nodded towards another hallway off to the other side of the room. Leaving our little game, she turned and casually wandered through the doorway and out of sight.

  And I followed.

  The hallway appeared empty by the time I made my way through the crowd. It was long, but there were a number of doorways set back in alcoves from the main corridor. I wondered for a moment if she’d gone into one of the rooms, and then I saw a faint flash of blonde hair and blue-green eyes peeking around a corner at me.

  She smiled shyly at me when I finally stood in front of her.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked with a sparkle in her eyes that rivaled the diamond necklace that encircled her neck.

  “I looked it up on the web and thought it sounded like an interesting exhibition,” I grinned. “Car parts, you know. I’m a mechanic. It’s a natural fit.”

  Sophie giggled. “My parents are horrified by the sculptures. They feel like it is just so primitive.”

  “I heard. I wasn’t standing too far from you when your mom started in. I sorta wanted to tell her to fuck off.”

  “Well,” she chuckled, “thank you for not doing that. I’m not sure I’d want to deal with the aftermath.”

  “That’s the only reason I didn’t, Soph,” I said as I took a step closer.

  She dropped her eyes to her hands as she twisted her fingers nervously, then licked her lips as she glanced back up at me. Her voice was a little shaky when she spoke. “So, you’re really just here to see the sculptures?” A faint glimmer of hope lit her eyes.

  I looked at her for a minute, mulling over my response. Fuck no, was the first thought I had. Right on the tip of my tongue, and it was all I could do to hold it back. I was there one-hundred percent to see her, but that may have sounded a bit desperate. I sure as fuck wasn’t desperate.

  But I was honest.

  “In all reality, Soph,” I slowly answered, holding her eyes with my own, “the car parts thing was kind of a bonus. I’m not here for the art. Not really.”

  She relaxed a little, a smile touching her lips, yet the air filled with a whole new tension. A warmth and a vibrancy. Remembrance of what had passed between us before. I stepped a little closer to her as she leaned against the wall, placing my hands on either side of her head, just above her shoulders. I wanted so badly to taste her lips. Just a slight dip of my head and I could, and she bit her lip in apprehension.

  But just as I went in for the kill, as I was so close I could almost taste her kiss, footsteps echoed down the hall. Footsteps coming our direction with a long, determined stride. Sophie’s eyes widened, and she quickly ducked under my arm to step back into the hall.

  “There you are,” her dad berated. “What are you thinking just taking off like—” His voice cut short as he caught sight of me in the alcove, and he paused and eyed me suspiciously. “Sophie, go back to your mother.”

  Sophie quickly looked over at me, her entire affect changed from a few moments before. Where her eyes had been sparkling, the light seemed to fade clean away. And once again, the odd dynamic of this family struck me as she tried to speak.

  “But I—” she breathed.

  “I said,” he repeated firmly as he turned a hardened glare in her direction, “go back to your mother. Now.”

  Sophie dropped her gaze to the floor, and stepped away. She shot a quick apologetic glance back at me, then hurried back to the main hall. Her dad took a step towards me, his voice cutting with a sharp steely edge.

  “I don’t know who you are, boy,” he warned, “but she’s not for you.”

  “With all due respect, sir,” I replied, subconsciously puffing out my chest, “you don�
��t know anything about me.” I tried to remain calm, to try and see, for Sophie, if I could smooth things out a little. Yet I was insulted by his instant judgment that found me lacking,

  He shook his head as he took in my grease-smeared clothing. “I can see everything I need to know, and she’s not for you.”

  “Don’t you think that is kind of for her to decide?” I asked with a scowl.

  “No,” he replied coldly, “I don’t.”

  “She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions, even if she is your daughter.”

  “You’ve got one part of that right, boy. She is my daughter. Mine.” He pointed down the hallway where Sophie had gone. “I’ve invested a lot of money to ensure that she bleeds blue. Polishing her like a diamond, making her every man’s dream. From the minute I knew she was a girl, I’ve been prepping her for someone much greater than you.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Like that jerk who cheated on her?” I growled. “Do you honestly think she’ll be happy with him?”

  “And you think she’d be happy with you?” He looked down his nose at me in a horribly aristocratic manner. “What can you possibly offer her? She’s a socialite, boy. She’s born and bred for the upper class. Happiness for her is lavish parties and a platinum card. So keep your grubby hands off her.”

  With that, he turned and strode purposefully down the hall without even looking back. And I stood there wondering what the hell to think. It wasn’t like I was in love with Sophie. It was fair to say I more than liked her. And, fuck me, I wanted her. I had for a long time. But enough to put up with that jackass? If I had half a brain in my head, I’d never give her a second thought.

  But then a couple quick images crossed my mind. The smile when she had first seen me there today, just a hint of it on her lips, but the light of it that glowed in her eyes. The fragile tone of her voice when she asked me if I’d only come for the art. And the way the life faded right out of her when her father showed up.

  I really couldn’t help myself. So I hung out a little longer, checking out the rest of the exhibit. Killing time, really, until a quarter to three. Then I jumped in my Cougar and drove to Sophie’s apartment.

  Because I wanted to light her up again.

  “Do or die, right?” Sophie asked as I held open the door to Drew’s shop for her a short time later.

  I looked her way to see that she’d fixed her gaze on my neck tat. Focusing on it to build her confidence.

  “You want to do this, right?” I asked. “He might not even be able to do it today. We can always make an appointment regardless and give you a little time to think it over.”

  “No, I want to. I’m just…” she took a deep breath and stepped into the shop.

  At the front counter sat who I assumed was the new piercing girl Drew had hired. Her name was Raven or some shit, and her jet black hair had a bright bluish tint when the light hit it. She had eyebrow piercings and a lip piercing. Judging by the slightly bumpy appearance of her tits under a super tight tank top, her nipples were pierced, as well.

  “Well, hi,” she greeted Sophie with a broad smile, seeming to recognize her.

  “Hi,” Sophie said back, “Raven, right?”

  “Yeah,” Raven grinned. “Sure enough. What can I do for you? Are you having trouble with your piercing?”

  Raven kept peeking up at me, sort of looking back and forth as though she couldn’t quite figure out what this fuckhot-but-obviously-upscale piece was doing here with me in my greasy shop clothes.

  “Is Drew here?” I asked. “She’s interested in getting a tattoo.”

  “He’s in back with a customer,” Raven said, “but I could take a message and give it to him when he’s done.”

  “Just tell him Brannon’s here,” I said, and her eyes opened a little wider.

  “Oh, you’re Brannon,” she purred. “I’ve heard of you.”

  Obvious come-on. I got this shit all the time. Whenever I met someone who knew the band very well, they’d heard of me. My exploits were sort of legendary, I suppose.

  Although right at the moment, standing here by Sophie, Raven’s sudden shift in attention sort of bothered me a little. I was a man-ho, but I wasn’t such a huge man-ho that I’d let a girl totally hit on me when I was with another girl. Not that I was actually ever really with another girl. So this was just a bit east of awkward.

  And Sophie clearly felt uncomfortable by the clear flirting, so I squashed it in the bud by slipping my hand around Sophie’s waist and pulling her close up against me.

  “Yeah, and I’m here with Sophie,” I said, “because she wants some ink. So could you let Drew know?”

  Duly chastised, Raven seemed to catch my drift. “Of course,” she murmured, “just a sec. I’ll go tell him.”

  She slipped through the doorway to go back and get Drew.

  “Sorry about that,” I grumbled to Sophie.

  “It’s okay, Bran,” she said as she stepped away to flip through a book of designs on the counter. “You’ve got a reputation to uphold. Besides, it isn’t like I’m your girlfriend or something.”

  I didn’t like how that set with me. I really didn’t want a girlfriend, yet I really did want Sophie. I should have been ecstatic that she just sorta gave me a green light on casual fucking. What guy wouldn’t want her hot little body to hit now and then? And to have that and still keep the whole swingin’ single dude thing going should have been a dream come true.

  Yet, the way she said it sounded kind of like it wouldn’t bug her if I fucked around with Raven. Or anyone else. And that bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

  “Still,” I said, “it wasn’t very classy of her to hit on me while I’m obviously here with you.”

  Sophie stopped turning pages and looked up at me. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but something was churning in her head, veiled behind those stunning blue-green eyes. Then one side of her mouth lifted in a small, sweet smirk that kind of had my dick twitching in my jeans.

  Right as she was getting ready to speak, Drew’s voice sounded from the hallway as he came through the door.

  “Brannon, dude,” he said, “stay the fuck away from my piercer. She’s not gonna pierce your junk—” Then his eyes hit Sophie and he sort of stopped short. “Oh, shit. Hey, um…”

  “Sophie,” I said, supplying her name since he’d clearly drawn a blank.

  “Sophie,” he murmured, “right.” He glanced at me, still seeming a bit shocked. “Dude, this is the chick you had at Perkins the other night.”

  “Yeah, you fucker,” I scowled, “and she can hear you. She’s standing right here.”

  That jolted him back into reality a little. He looked back at Sophie with a hopelessly pathetic smile. “Sorry,” he said to her. “I’m just not really used to… well, he…”

  “Just shut the fuck up, man, and start talking about why we’re here.”

  Drew’s blank expression remained. “Why are you here?”

  “Didn’t Raven tell you? Sophie wants to get a tat.”

  “Oh, shit. Sorry,” Drew sputtered, “she just came back and said something about wanting to pierce your junk. She seemed kind of interested, and that pissed me off because you fucked my last—” He stopped short. “Shit. Nothing. Never mind. I just, well, she’s a great piercer and I want her to stick around, so I… well…”

  Sophie’s eyes had gone wide as she turned towards me. “Pierce your junk?”

  “He’s talked about it before,” Drew offered, “but I keep telling him that he’d have to give it a rest to let it heal and, knowing him—”

  “Drew,” I growled. “Can we just talk about the tat?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Let’s do that.”

  He focused on Sophie who had her flushed gaze fixed on my face. Evidently, the thought of a piercing had her mind whirling. Fuck, how long would it take to heal? And could I keep my hands off her that long? I already wanted to nail her again, and it had only been a few hours.

  “So, So
phie,” Drew said, breaking that connection between her eyes and mine, “what are you thinking? Did you want to make an appointment? Do you have something in mind?”

  “Well, I know it’s last minute and all,” she started, a bit breathless, “but would you be able to do it today? I know exactly what I want.”

  “I think so.” He grabbed an appointment book from the counter and traced his finger down the page. “I’m about done with this guy and, yeah, it doesn’t look like I have anyone after him.” He glanced back up at her. “I’m not sure if we’d have time, though. Sort of depends on what you want.”

  Sophie reached for my hand, the one with the tat on my wrist, and nudged me to set it on the counter. “I want something like this, but—”

  “You guys want matching ink?” Drew murmured with a raised eyebrow and a hint of an incredulous smile. “How long have you known each other?”

  “Not matching, really,” Sophie laughed nervously. “It’s not like we’re…” Her voice trailed off as she glanced up at me quickly, clearing her throat before she looked back down to trace the lines on my wrist. “I want something that is kind of this idea, but more rounded. Like the whole thing is the shape of a heart. And more curly than sharp and jagged.” She bit her lip and peered up at Drew to study his reaction. “And I want Kermit in the middle.”

  “Okay,” Drew nodded. His mood had shifted from bewildered and amused (most likely by the thought of me and some chick having matching tattoos) to artist mode. Like he was seeing her vision. He really was good at this shit, and he grabbed a sheet of paper and a drafting pencil to quickly do a rough sketch. Sophie and I watched as the image began to take shape. “I’m guessing you want Kermit in color, but the rest is just black. Where do you want it?”

  “Well,” Sophie said, and she tugged her shirt up a touch to reveal the exquisitely smooth skin of her stomach. As she spoke, she also pushed the low rise of her jeans down a little. There was that hip bone that I’d nipped and tasted.