Whoa.
We all stop and look at him. He, in turn, slowly starts from my end and ends at Damon. Then he breaks out into a sauntering laugh that echoes. The guys have to stop working on him first.
“Hahahaha…gotcha! You actually thought that happened?” he asks, licking his lips and smacking what’s left of them.
“It’s a good story man.”
“Not bad,” spews Damon.
“What did you really do with the meat Big Mac?” asks Holland. I wish he had kept his shit to himself. Big Mac smiles and eyes him carefully.
“I buried it all.”
No need for the AC anymore this afternoon.
Big Mac pays us and walks out the door. It dings, and he whistles. Two women, with their bellies out in the open and butts high up in the air walk by in yellow and green high heels, both of them sporting sunglasses and some really great tans. He grabs each by the boob and smacks their asses. I remember distinctly the disgusted look Waryn had on her face under the desk, and luckily discretion was highly advised when we started this gig.
“Damn,” started Holland. For a few minutes we took out water bottles from the cooler and had a refresher. “Talk about psycho, huh?”
“Careful he doesn’t hear you, eh? He just might get back to the meat packing and transport business.” Damon sure is fun at parties.
“Come on, like he didn’t spook you out at all, huh? How many guys walk in here and fill the seats like he does? How many guys do you know can take two needles at a go?”
“Plenty,” Damon shushes. He sips his water and walks out, his back hand waving away at us. We’ve all gotten used to his see all, hear all, say none philosophy by now, and with me the most. “Nix, Tatum, come on. Back me up here.”
“Damon is rarely ever wrong buddy,” I start. “There are actually bigger and scarier dudes than Big M.”
“What he said,” spreads Holland. His face looks like he came from a shower and forgot to use a towel. We really need to get a new fan, or a better cooler.
“Fine. The day that guy walks in on you with a knife in hand and that same smile, we’ll see how many of you follow this cool and collected walk. We’ll see.”
“Oh so you mean you’d just stare at him and not feel the urge to knock his teeth in?” Holland pursues. Needles are down and Nix’s arms are up. I love it when they get into their tiny spats. I walk out quietly and let them handle it.
There are no more clients waiting for us outside. I checked. It’s just an empty waiting room on a busy day meant for a quick dip. Waryn is on the computer typing up whatever she is typing, and doesn’t see me. It feels a little creepy, but I like how serene she looks. It’s like I get the best seat in the house for just popping my head out. If this isn’t luck, then the fuck is? I turn back and meet a friendly bearded face smirking at me.
“You really shouldn’t stare at women like that.”
“Come on Damon. She’s different.”
His brow rises slightly, his face more riddled than ever. “Is she? I know it’s been a while bro, but do you know what you’re doing?”
I really appreciate the tone he’s using. Low and duplicitous, coz Waryn hearing us wouldn’t be an issue at all, especially when talking about her. “I don’t know how far things are between you two, but for both our sakes, realize how much she is rooting in you.”
“Lay it on me big man. How?”
“She came here all the way to find you and tell you she’s Eric Blair’s sister, Yeah, yeah, I might be quiet but I know what happens around me.” Maybe I shouldn’t talk back till he finishes squeezing my shoulders. “She came here and settled in. She might be angry with you, I don’t know. Or maybe she has a plan or agenda, I cannot say. But the thing I know is that you can’t hurt her twice. Alright?”
“Okay Damon. I hear you.”
“Good man. Now let’s go see what those two knuckleheads are yammering about.”
We take two steps in when the door dings, and the smell reaches us before his voice. I take in a deep breath and walk back. Damon backs me up on this; his fists are already clenched. I don’t see Waryn anywhere. Good.
“So I hear ye hired a fuckin’ slut to do a slut’s job eh? Nothin seems to have changed much with ye two around! Where’s that flippin bastard of yours Damon? Nixy Wixy! Come out to daddy and play you flimsy bastard!”
Bull fucking Thornton.
It’s been a while since he came in to do his usual taunts. I almost thought the last time the message was received loud and clear. This time, his Hawaiian t-shirt is yellow, but his flabby belly is way below the belt buckle limit. God his breath stinks, but his attitude is even worse. He always comes in here at least once a week to yell at us. He never changes the script.
“Yer boy never completed his contract with me Damon. He owes me!”
“No way you hunk of lard. No way we’re paying you that kind of money for early release.”
“Not this fucktard again!” Nix hollers as he walks in. We all share a pool of hate for Bull, but Nix holds the tightest bucket of it. “Nixy Wixy, you finally show ye two desperate balls. Still sucking Damon’s balls are yer?”
“Dude. Read my lips. WE ARE DONE!”
“No we ain’t. Not by a long shot. Ye owe me $10000 for all the irreparable damage you caused at me shop. Now pay up or lawyer up you dimwitted half shit.”
“No way are you getting even a cent from me man. We settled fair and square. That shit is over and you know it. You’re just an old man waiting for his failed pension, scheming ways to con people for your own dick ways. Fuck you Bull!”
“Fuck me? Fuck me? Me…the buddy who held ye own for years? Ooh we’ll see you cumwad…we’ll see.”
Just then, like cosmic mockery of perfect timing, Waryn walks out of the bathroom and straightens her jacket at the door. All eyes on her.
“Get out Bull. We’ll see you at the Expo,” says Damon.
“No you won’t buddy boy. You’ll see my ass there. Now before we go any further into detail, how about ye give me this sweet tight broad and we’ll say we’re halfway even?”
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BULL!”
Sometimes my anger gets the best of me, when it’s for the right reasons. My fists are by his neck and my nose ready to suffer for the proper cause. I can see the endless abyss in his eyes, his black eyes that have no end or meaning. I hope my spitting warning is enough to ward the bastard off.
“Ha…Ye still got it in ye Tatum. I like that. Fire is good for young men. I’ll be seeing ye sorry asses at the Expo.” And with a final spit at the floor, he walks out. We don’t speak till we hear his car engine roar, and the green escalade smoke away.
“Fucking hell Tatum. Who was that guy? And why did you have to go all caveman? You do realize I can protect myself right?” Waryn asks, slightly angry. She is still by the door, her hands in a ball. I walk to her, walking over the spot filled with Bull-shit, and stopping right where she s amidst the swearing the rest of the guys are adding into.
“That Waryn; that was Bull. You finally met his sorry piece of ass.”
“What did he want? And what’s this Expo?” she asks. Her fingers are cold. Her face looks red. Mostly from the smell the man emits. “Guys, can we have a minute?”
“Sure.” They say and walk back into the OR.
“Waryn, that guy is the sleaziest, dirtiest, craziest man you will ever meet, and he just tried to flirt with you. I went all caveman on him coz you’re my cavewoman, alright? It comes with the territory.”
Then she does the thing I really hate. Why do all women have to go there when something doesn’t agree with them? Is it necessary to roll the eyes back, to show discomfort when instead words could be used?
“Hey, come on. I hate it when anyone does that.”
“What? Rolling my eyes?”
“Yeah…”
“You deserve it.”
“…”
“So. The Expo. What is it? You guys gave off some pretty string vibes abou
t it.”
She is exasperating. “The Expo is an ink competition held in Vegas annually. Bull’s shop is competing and so is Sinful Scars.”
At the mention of Sin City her eyes light up, and her palms smack at her face. I so want to smack my lips on hers right now. There’s no one close by anyway. But if I do I think I’ll be that Grinch that kinda ruined magic for her. “Vegas? I’ve never been to Vegas before.”
This could be a chance I might never get again in my lifetime. So I think deep and plan on loosening the purse strings a little for an extra plane ticket. Her thighs are close together and her smile lighter.
“Wanna come with us?”
“I’m already packed,” she starts. She does a thing with her feet and props up her ankles. “I live in a motel room, remember?”
Chapter 10 - Waryn
When I grow up, I want to be a tattoo artist. The simplistic pleasure of causing so much pain and calling it art takes my breath away, not to mention the perks of going to Vegas once a year to do that exact thing. Add the lights and delights of this sinful place we’re spending a healthy week in and you’ve got one wet mama out of me.
The flight was the easiest part. On it, we were a fair number of party goers – three Elvis impersonators, all with almost the same outfit in spandex but in different red, blue, and white stripes, an elderly couple with T-shirts that were definitely from the Bahamas, even with the little ring of flowers round their old and swinging skin, a younger couple that couldn’t keep it in their pants, fondling away and melting each other’s tongues in their mouths, and finally, the five of us. Four hours in the air, we sang and hummed and got to know each other a little better.
I was with Tatum at the back seat giving his little man a tug by the time we were taking off. He loved it; the feeling of the plane leaving the ground and collapsing into the air while your meat gets jacked off with none the wiser, cumming tends to be one hell of an experience.
The four guys gave us a little privacy all the way. They had their tools of trade handy and ready in case stuff happened; three iPods each with three hundred playlists, headphones to match, and smoldering attitude with the passing hostesses, one of whom grew to a liking with Damon so much that she gave him some ‘assistance’ in the bathroom when we were around two hours into the flight. It must have been a really huge problem for that amount of banging.
The elderly couple had actually been from Bali, and was traveling the world to see the rest of what they hoped they hadn’t. From the time they had left the airport all they had were their children’s tickets and a bunch of memoirs they mailed back home for them. That kind of old love was precious to watch – simply precious. Bill and Jackie never stopped holding hands once.
Terrence, Michael and Jimmy were headed to an Elvis look-alike competition in one of the big hotels. Michael was one of the funny ones, making jokes about his fake leg that he got from the army after his was honorably discharged, which took me completely by surprise. It got the attention of the other two too, for they were actually twins who had been trying their luck at it all. I suppose it was a fifty-fifty decision if one of them won.
I wish I could have spoken to the hot and heavy couple, but they were really not in a good mood with Damon and the hostess. The toilet was really getting hogged.
Tatum was quietly smiling at his corner listening to his tunes. On him he had a tee and one black pair of sweatpants, making me want him even more for his level of readiness once we landed. I kissed him too; no way was the other couple going to enjoy the night away like that and not us.
Huh, I just thought us a couple. Weird Wednesday if I was asked.
The airport was the busiest I had ever seen. I waved bye to Bill and Jackie who got a cab almost immediately. They kissed a warm one our way. Holland caught it. They got in and drove off. I wonder what adventures are in store for them in Vegas.
Our three Elvis impersonators walked out of the plane singing Black is the new merry and holding shoulders. They kicked their heels in the air at checkout, and in a way, I feel warm right now knowing that friends were made. Maybe even a brother was added to the fold.
The tonguing couple, and not Damon and his pretty blue skirt in reference here, walked out hurriedly and sprinted for a taxi. Man, the heat was fucking real! Damon was quite smooth with the Hostess, and though we taunted him on the way to the luggage compartment, his silent bravado was all he had. It came to fruition after he asked us all to wait. Nix was smirking the entire way, a feat no simple man can accomplish. The lady came out in blue jeans and a black jacket, her blonde hair swinging in the air wildly, her arm in Damon’s. They must be somewhere on a roof fucking and tonguing and thrashing around inside each other by now.
Oh wait, that’s what we’re doing. I almost forgot.
It must be the head rush.
I am upside down…
Or right side up?
Well, all I know is my mouth is full. I can only think but not talk. His mouth is full too. It’s got a tasteful of cream spurting out of me in regular intervals, and right now we’re slowly building up to the next one. The thing about Tate…he can go on for a really long time without blasting you in the end.
But…he tastes and feels like he’s about to…
He’s going rigid. I love it when he does that. It gets bigger. Thicker. More veiny. His fingers clamp and squeeze my nipples. I squeeze and clamp his head with my thighs. He goes in deeper. I swallow deeper. God he tastes good.
All night long, no words. We don’t have to. We just…fuck.
*
“Good morning baby.”
“Wow, baby? Did we cross that river, or are we going there?” he asks.
“The night I spanked you and made you call me Mistress? That’s when we crossed that bridge and made sure we burned that fucker down” I quip, a smile on my back and a quick breath of the sunny air in.
“Hey, you promised that was just once! And-”
“And what, baby? That I never mention it ever again? Of course that’s between us. Why would I find pleasure in filling anyone else in on our truly potent sex lives?”
He pulls the sheet covering his thick tattoos off. His cock is gleaming in the sun, most probably from the sucking I just finished a few minutes ago to wake his ass up. If you’re going to wake a man up, then you just have to do it the right way. In my throat is some unsavory salty protein I probably should water down with some of the clear stuff on the table, but maybe this could get more interesting. He didn’t pull his sheet off for nothing.
“It seems you actually want-”
“Sshhh,” I shush and place a finger to his lips. “You’re much cuter when you don’t talk. Now, what’s our safe word?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“What?” I ask. He grabs what is cold on my ass and makes it warm again with a sharp spank. I let his lips go. My fingers go right to his thighs and grab on tight.
“I think that’s my line Waryn. Remember?” His teeth play around with my nipple at the last question. “O-ohh-ooooh.”
“You didn’t answer me Waryn.”
“Yes-s-s…I remember.”
He bites deeper and smothers my left with his spit. Fuck.
“I remember, Master.”
“Good. Now let me make sure you never forget.”
Memory can be a fickle thing, a shard of ice that mocks the very fabric of solidity. It all comes back to me, all of it. How he grabbed my legs by the tied up sheets and placed a Mamba vibrator between my lips and all over where I couldn’t touch. How he let me fuck his ass with my tongue and relinquished control to me for just a few minutes, whereby he took it back and double fucked me with a dildo and his dick. I swear I could not see where he was getting the toys from, but he loved giving his power away, and taking it back.
And now, as he softly caresses my breasts and shares his lips with the buzzing skin underneath, as his cock grows tumescent and slides up and down my already wet and pulsing cunt, as his fingers pinch and fiddle with all the
right places onto me and into me, as his thighs tighten around mine, and my hips buckle at his sides, as the doe on his chest looks at me, stares at me with derived question, I let him take me.
And take me he does.
“Tatum! Oh my fuck…O-ohhhhh….”
“Ngh! Ungh! It’s…ungh…fucking…ngh…better…ungh if…mmh…you…ungh!”
Shut up. I don’t even want to think clearly, but that kinda makes me his bitch…
“Kiss me.”
Oh.
I pause the assault on his shaft, and he flips his sides to meet mine at an angle best done by lesbians. His back arches, and his face glistens as it gets closer to me. His lips are cold, his breath steaming. I close my eyes to enjoy the universe of red under them, and the warm feeling that is all over my skin up to the folds that close with him in between the cove of my legs.
I fucking love Vegas.
*
The Expo.
One of the greatest shows in inking I have ever seen. Hundreds upon hundreds of men and women converge here, all with the sole purpose of pain and art melded and birthing something beautiful and worth the time. From the beginning of the first Expo which was conceptualized ten years ago, artists from all over the world sign up and try their art against the best of the best to become the best. It’s more of swinging dicks around till one proves it’s the hardest of them all.
When Tatum and I leave the room to meet up with the rest of the guys, I can read tension. Nix is squeezing the turtle at the heart of his necklace a bit too hard for luck. Holland is quite alright mumbling pieces of poetry I once read from Macbeth. Damon…well, Damon is actually quite alright. An up-and-at-‘em attitude and he’s ready to take on the world. That hostess is definitely a keeper. He hasn’t stopped smiling and patting the boys on the back once.
Tatum’s hand is in mine. Not for his sake, but for mine. I really want these guys to win. I really want us to win.
We walk in silence to the hotel buffet downstairs. Along the way, there are different kinds of people milling around pasting butter on their bread and squeezing handles for juice. One man in particular grabs my attention; his fingers, both of them, are deep in the yoghurt jar. I nod my head in approval. He nods back.
Two Bad Groomsmen_An MFM Menage Romance Page 34
