Carnal: Pierced and Inked

by Simone Sowood

  That night, I make sure to set my alarm to make sure I’m not late for Friday’s and Saturday’s shifts. I’m skating on thin ice after last Saturday, and then being late today. Now, knowing Ava’s situation, I can’t risk the income.

  On Saturday, I hide in my waitress station wiping down the menus. Kevin lets me know a party of two has just arrived at table six. I grab two menus and head to it, ready to give my standard welcome spiel.

  When I reach the table, the hot guy from last week is sitting in the same spot he was last Saturday. A different woman sits across from him. A thousand butterflies fill my insides.

  “Hey, Skye,” he says and winks at me.

  “Welcome back to Johnny’s Roadhouse.” My smile is not the fake plastered-on one I normally greet guests with.

  My cheeks burn red when the thought crosses my mind that he’s become the star of my nightly fantasies. Shamed, I drop the menus on the table and hightail it back to my wait station.

  Leaning against the wall, I try to calm my breathing. I pat my cheeks, willing the red to go away. This is nuts, I have to calm myself down, or how will I be able to go out there and take his order? Let alone carry a plate of food to him without dropping it…

  “Hey,” he says, poking his head around the partition. It startles me and I jump, which seems to delight him.

  “Is everything okay?” Instinctively, I revert to my robot waitress mode.

  “You forgot to take our drinks orders.” Okay, I tell myself, he’s just here for normal, everyday restaurant stuff. It’s nothing to do with me; he hasn’t read my mind about what I do with him in my fantasies at night.

  “Oh, oops, what can I get you?” I smile, but am painfully aware of the slight tremble in my bottom lip.

  “A couple of Buds would be great.”

  “Coming right up.”

  “Cheers, Skye.” He winks and leaves me leaning against the wall for support.

  I take a few deep breaths, forcing myself to calm down. What is the matter with me? Just because the hottest guy who’s ever walked in this place is back, I fall apart and start acting like a star-struck twelve year old.

  First Taste

  (Lawson)

  I sit back down in the booth with Julie, my thoughts still on Skye and what I’d like to do to her.

  “You haven’t stopped grinning since we got here,” my sister says.

  “I’m happy, what can I say?”

  “I say I haven’t seen you this happy in ages. And by happy I mean excited. What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean? Can’t your big brother be happy?”

  “Something’s up. I should’ve known when you said you wanted to take me out for a burger.”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Oh God, is it the waitress?” She rolls her eyes as she says it.

  “Obviously, have you seen her?”

  Skye appears with our beers and says, “Here you are, two beers. I’ll be right back to take your order.” She runs away before I can even thank her. That’s fine, she looks as good going as she does coming.

  “Her? You must be ten years older than her. Are you having a midlife crisis already? You’re too young for that.”

  “It’s not just her looks, she cracks me up. And she’s so talented, you saw the picture she drew of Freya.”

  “Poor Freya, I still can’t believe you ditched the yacht party to bring her here. She still hasn’t spoken to me — you probably cost me a friend.”

  “Who cares? You have too many friends as it is. Besides, you don’t need ones who are only interested in money.”

  Julie rolls her eyes and says, “Aside from the fact I love a good plate of ribs, why am I here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to see Skye again.”

  “And?”

  “And I needed your opinion. Is she going to turn out to be a gold digger too? If you say yes, then I know I’m okay. It’s when you say no that I know I need to start guarding my wallet.” Skye talked all that shit about the rich, but people to change their tunes pretty fast when money is within their reach.

  “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

  Skye arrives back at the side of the booth and says, “Have you decided what you want?”

  When she puts it that way, I have to bite my tongue to keep from telling her exactly what I want.

  “I’ll have the ribs, with fries,” Julie says. Skye looks at me with raised eyebrows, apparently she approves of my date for the night.

  “And you, sir, what would you like?” Fuck, the way she called me sir again overloads me with the desire to answer that question truthfully.

  “The burger.”

  “The works again?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Awesome.” She turns and goes and I can’t take my eyes off her. Even after she’s out of sight, I keep my eyes on the last spot in hopes she’ll reappear.

  “Enough of this. We’re supposed to be talking about Kelso,” Julie says.

  Kelso Wilson is my ex-business partner. We made billions together, before I decided I couldn’t take any more of the asshole. It was a great business, he built the hotels and resorts all over the world, and I ran them. Except I realized I could get anyone to build the shit, and didn’t have to put up with him in the process.

  We’ve been locked in a legal battle to divide up the business for the past fourteen months. It’s pretty easy to carve off the construction division, but for some reason the asshole thinks he deserves more.

  I’m arguing all the non-construction divisions are all mine, since I add all the value. His buildings always come in over budget and after the deadline. If anything, he’s cost the business.

  “There’s not much to say about him,” I say.

  “I think it’s possible to talk him into a deal. That would save tens of millions in legal fees and get the headache over with.”

  “Whoa, is my legal counsel really advising me over what’s best for me instead of what gets her firm the most money?”

  “Piss off. It’s Saturday night, I’m speaking to you as my brother.”

  “Fine, I’ll go see the piece of shit, but I want all the points I need to hit him with laid out to me beforehand and drilled into me. There’s a good chance I’ll forget it all when I see him, because I’ll be too busy punching his face in.”

  Skye had arrived at our table as I was speaking. Her eyes widened as she heard the tail end of what I’d said.

  “Ribs for you, and a burger. Is everything else okay?”

  “That’s great. There is one thing you can do for me: draw me a pretty picture of my companion here, will you?”

  She looks at me with a furrowed brow. “Um, okay, if I get some time, it’s pretty busy in here tonight.”

  “Thanks, Skye.” I wink at her and she scurries away.

  Julie and I continue to talk about handling Kelso as we eat. She’s the slowest eater I’ve ever met and I finish way before her.

  “We’re going to be late for Pamela’s.” Our baby sister has ordered us over for weekend drinks. Pamela doesn’t cook, and always insists we eat before we get there.

  Julie shrugs and stuffs more fries in her mouth.

  “I’ll go pay.” Julie has a mouthful of fries, and nods at me.

  I make my way to the wait station, where I find Skye drawing on her notepad.

  “We’re late for something, I’ve gotta pay now.”

  “Leaving so soon?”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “Maybe I am,” Skye says, with a genuine smile, not that fake smile she wore the first time I came in here.

  “In that case, I’m pissed I have to leave.”

  “Sure I can’t interest you in dessert?”

  “You can interest me in all sorts of things, but right now I have to go.” I say, raking my eyes down and back up her perfect body. When I reach her eyes again, I capture her gaze.

  “You’ll have to come back next week,” she says, chewing her bott
om lip.

  “Next time I’ll definitely stay for dessert.”

  “We have several on the menu, you could stay long enough to sample them all.”

  “The dessert I want isn’t on the menu.”

  Skye’s eyes flare, and she turns away from me.

  “Here you go.” She prints off our bill and hands it to me.

  “How’s the picture coming?” I pull out several rolled-up bills and hand them to her.

  “Well, I didn’t get much sense of who your date is, so I drew you instead.”

  “Let me see.” I snatch her pad, intrigued by how she perceives me.

  “It’s not finished yet,” she says, grabbing for the pad.

  I hold it out of her reach and take a look. I’m so ripped in her picture that I look like a superhero. There are no horns on my head, and no fire coming from my mouth. Instead I’m standing with my arms crossed, my arms covered in ink and a hamburger in a thought bubble over my head.

  “That’s definitely not what I’m thinking about,” I say.

  “Then what are you thinking about?” She asks, her eyes pleading. I reach out and stroke the backs of my fingers down her cheek. Skye maintains my gaze, her breathing quick.

  “It’s hard to put into words,” I say. Skye swallows.

  “Then show me,” she says, her voice barely audible.

  I reach out, cup the back of her head and press my mouth against hers. My cock stiffens at the softness of her lips. I pull away, leaving my hand cupping her head and holding her eyes with mine.

  As soon as her mouth is free of me, she says, “Your date is right over there.”

  “She’s not my date, she’s my sister.”

  “I’m at work, I’ll get in…” I silence her by planting my mouth back on hers. She moans and parts her lips, allowing my tongue to dart into her.

  I brush my hand down the length of her tight T-shirt. When I get to the fine ass I’ve been watching all night, I rub my hand over it. My cock aches for more.

  “Skye! In the staff room. You! Stop harassing my employees or I’ll call the cops,” a man barks.

  She pushes away and I release my hold on her. “Sorry, Kevin,” she says.

  The man, I assume he’s her boss, stays where he is, glaring at us. I tighten my hold on her, ready to go back in for more, but she places her hands on my chest and it stops me.

  “I have to go, I need this job.”

  “Sure.” I can’t resist myself, I give her one more quick kiss on her lips then release her.

  Gasping, she says, “Is that my tip?”

  I laugh and say, “No, this is your tip: Stop waiting tables and become an artist.”

  Before she can respond, Julie appears and glares at me.

  “Later,” I say, and we leave the restaurant.

  The Offer

  (Skye)

  I can barely concentrate on driving. My mind keeps flipping between that guy kissing me, and Kevin sending me home straight after. My first real kiss, and holy cow was it amazing. But it’s cost me big money in tips since the restaurant was so busy.

  Kevin said that was my last chance. I can’t afford to be out on my ass. But if that man comes in again and tries to kiss me, there’s no way I’ll stop him. No matter how much I need the money from the restaurant. His kiss just felt too damn good.

  When I’m getting ready for bed, I realize the money the hot guy gave me to cover his check is still in my pocket. I pull the money out to put with my apron, which I’ll bring in with me on Thursday.

  I unfold the bills. Three hundreds. The bills lay across my hand and I stare at them. Did he mean to give me three twenties? I don’t think so. He doesn’t strike me as the sort of man who ever makes mistakes.

  Is this supposed to be some sort of ploy to get my attention? Can he even afford to do something like this? I stand, debating what to do. There’s one person who really deserves this money.

  Instead of putting the money with my apron to take into work, I open my top drawer and place it in my stash of emergency money. Money that, until tonight, consisted of thirty bucks.

  When I see the guy again, I’ll try to give him the money back. If he refuses, I’ll think up a reason to convince Ava to accept the money from me.

  In bed, I can’t help myself. I slide my hand between my legs, remembering the minutiae of the kiss. His smell, his taste, the strength of his arms. And, of course, I can’t ignore what was digging into my hip — what an incredible feeling.

  Why didn’t I write my phone number on my drawing? How stupid am I? All I did was sign it with my standard art signature: Skye. No last name; nothing. I wonder if he’ll come in again after the way Kevin acted.

  Almost instantly, an orgasm washes over me. The memory of the kiss is so fresh, I can’t bring myself to take my hand away. I fall asleep with it between my legs.

  At some point in the middle of the night, I half wake up, realize I’ve been dreaming about that kiss, and the man doing the kissing, and that my hand has been moving as if possessed. Dripping wet and excited all over by the dream, I crash into another huge orgasm.

  Please let him come back next Saturday.

  In the morning, I hide from Ava in my studio. I have too many thoughts to sort out. After being sent home and given a final warning, Kevin’s not going to give me any extra shifts; there’s no point in asking. Ava needs to remortgage her house, and my freeloading is the reason. I need to think up a reason for her to take that money, but I haven’t come up with anything yet. And then there are all those possible commissions from the artist website.

  I sit on the floor beside my laptop and call up the website. My eyes widen when a message icon appears in the corner. Someone probably wants me to paint their dog, but my heart leaps in excitement anyway.

  My eyes pop when I see it’s not from any of the jobs I replied to. It’s a new user who only joined last week. I try to calm myself as I read the message.

  I am looking for someone to commission for several works to be hung in the new house I’m building. Am impressed by your work. Reply for more details. Kelso Wilson.

  Holy shit. This might be my solution. I type a reply as fast as my fingers will move and include my phone number. Deep inside, I fantasize that Kelso Wilson is the man from the restaurant. I know it’s silly and immature, but maybe he’s hunted me down somehow.

  Though there’s no way he could find me on this website, artists are told not to publicize their names so people can’t contact the artists without using the website and paying its fee. I was too scared of being banned so left off mine, like most other artists on the site.

  I try to put the message out of my mind while I get back to work on the project of items of wealth out of place in the world. But the whole time my mind is whirring with possibilities. This job could solve all my money worries. If it turns out to be the man from Johnny’s then all my dreams have come true.

  There’s no message back before bedtime. I’m disappointed, but I take comfort in the fact that it’s Sunday.

  ***

  It’s after lunch on Monday, and I’m busy working on the sand in the beach scene. I’ve tried to make the evening dress as unnatural a color as possible, and am now working on making the sand as natural as possible.

  The cell phone balanced on the easel rings. I’m so excited about the commission that I drop the paintbrush on the floor, getting brown paint everywhere.

  “Hello?”

  “Skye? It’s Kevin.” A huge pit opens in my stomach. He never calls.

  “Hi, is everything okay?”

  “It’s really hard for me to do this, but we don’t need you to come in this week.”

  “What about next week?”

  “We’ll see how we manage without you. But that little stunt on Saturday was a serious misconduct.”

  “I’m sorry, he kissed me.”

  “It looked pretty mutual from where I was standing.”

  Fuck. Depressed, the only thing I can do once we hang up is check my
messages on the art website. Nothing. I grab a rag and scrub the floor, and continue long after all trace of the spilled brown paint is gone.

  Still on my hands and knees, my phone rings again. What bad news is it this time?

  “Hello,” I say, my voice flat.

  “This is Kelso Wilson. You replied to my message about the commissioned pieces.”

  “Yes, hi, thanks for calling,” I say, suddenly much more cheery.

  “I’m building a fifteen-thousand-square-foot home and want original artwork for it. Right now I anticipate ten paintings, though it might change depending on the size you feel the space needs. The pay would be five grand a painting.” His voice is stern, and more like a command than a request.

  “That sounds like something I would be interested in, yes. Who covers the cost of the supplies?” My heart is pounding. Fifty grand? Holy shit. I’m saved!

  “I’d cover all costs. But I’d need you to paint on-site. I want each work created in the room it’s going to hang in.”

  “As long as you’re local.”

  “And one more thing — I’d need you to start right away. The last person I had bailed on me, and now the work is behind.”

  “I could start tomorrow, if you want.”

  We exchange details and I hang up. My hand trembles as I put the phone back on the easel tray. Fuck you Kevin. I won’t tell him that yet, though, just in case this falls through.

  Now, how pissed is Ava going to be when I tell her about the commission? I walk through the house looking for her, and find her sitting on the couch in the living room, busy with her needlework. It’s a huge image of a local tent city and is a project she’s been working on for eight years now. She expects it to take at least that many more to finish.

  “How’s the new project coming?” she asks. A pang of guilt hits my chest.

  “I have some exciting news.” I try not to sound quite as excited as I am.

  “What are you waiting for? Tell me!”

  “I’ve just been commissioned to paint ten pieces for a new mansion that’s being built.”