by Jacob Chance
“Good.” I keep my answer as brief as possible.
“How’s business?” She rubs her palms on her lean thighs.
“Are you cold?” I ask. Is the air conditioner too much for her?
“No, not at all.” Her hands still when she clasps them in her lap.
“Business is good. I finished the City Hall paintings and the woman who brought me on board wants to hire me for some other projects around Boston.”
“Congratulations. What else have you been doing?”
“Do you really want to do this?” I question, my eyes flicking in her direction.
“Do what?”
“Pretend you care what I’m doing. You don’t need to keep up any pretense on my account. I think I have a clear picture of where we stand.”
“I do care about you,” she whispers.
I chuckle. “Yeah, I can tell. It’s all good though. I’m a big boy. I don’t need to force my attention on someone who doesn’t want it.”
“It’s not that I don’t want your attention.” She shakes her head, sighing loudly.
“Look, we had one night. Let’s leave it at that. No harm, no foul.” Shrugging my shoulders like it’s not a big deal, I play it cool. Inwardly, my chest burns like it’s been set on fire and my stomach flips repeatedly. What happened between us is a big fucking deal. I’m crazy about her and she has no idea. I’d do anything to make her happy. I’ll even pretend our night together was meaningless fun while on the inside I’m slowly dying because there’s nothing I want more than to be with her.
I park the car and walk her inside. I’m not going to let the tension between us keep me from doing what’s right. We pause in front of her door and she spins around to face me. “Do you want to come in?” she asks, biting on the edge of her lower lip.
“You and I both know that would be a colossal mistake, Elle.” I stare down into the golden warmth of her brown eyes.
“Would it? I’m not so sure. I think it would be a fun time.” She smiles flirtatiously and sets her bag down on the carpeted hallway floor. Stepping toward me, wrapping her arms around my neck, she presses her tits to my chest. “A really fun time,” she says, before catching my bottom lip with her teeth.
My fingers immediately move to grip her hair and push her back against the solid door as I connect our mouths. We fit together like we were made to always be this way. Her taste is familiar on my tongue and I can’t get enough as I hungrily devour her mouth.
“Touch me, please,” she moans against my lips.
My palm slides down her stomach and then my fingers deftly undo the button on her cutoffs. The metallic sound of the zipper being pulled down has my mouth watering for the taste of her pussy.
Licking the delicate skin of her neck, I move my lips to her ear. “You want to have some fun? Is that what you need?”
“Yes, let’s have some fun,” she giggles and then moans when my hand slides inside her bikini bottoms.
Dragging my middle finger along her slit, I groan, “so wet.” Gathering her juices, I reverse to slowly circle her clit.
“Oh God,” she moans banging her head back against the metal door.
I rub her clit faster while my other hand slides down the back of her pants following along the curve of her ass until I can push two fingers inside her hot, dripping wet pussy.
“Josh,” she moans my name, riding my hands. “Make...me...come.” Her voice is a thready whisper and her eyes are squeezed shut.
My lips trail down her neck and across her chest until I’m painting a masterpiece with my tongue across the top of her tits.
“Come on,” I urge into the dark valley between them as I pinch her clit. My lips climb back up her neck until I’m hovering over her, studying her face. I need to see her unravel. She digs her fingernails into the tops of my shoulders as her mouth drops open in a long moan. Her pussy squeezes my fingers as she trembles through her orgasm. When she settles down, I slide my fingers from her and slip them into my mouth for a final taste. Sucking all the juices off, this is the last time we’ll be in this position.
Her eyes are slits, heavy with passion as she watches me. “Do you want to come in?” she asks with a lazy smile.
“No, I’m gonna get out of here.”
“No?” she questions, looking confused.
“Look, this was fun and I’m sure if I came inside we’d have a great time. But the thing is, I’m looking for someone I can have more than hot sex with. I want it all, Elle. As much as I care for you and wish you were the girl for me, you’re not.” I run my hand back and forth over my hair. “We’re looking for different things and I don’t expect you to change your wants or needs to meet mine. We had our fun and no one can take it away from us.” She doesn’t say anything, instead staring up at me with those bottomless brown eyes while chewing on her lower lip. “Go inside so I can be sure you’re safe.” Her eyes shine brightly as she nods her head. Turning her back, she slips the key in the lock. When she pushes the door open, I grab her shoulders, spin her around and crash our lips together for a final kiss. One more taste is all I need. Then I’ll let her go. With every stroke of my tongue, every nip of my teeth, I show her how much I care - how deep my feelings run. She needs to remember this kiss for the rest of her life, like I fucking will.
My palms cup the soft skin of her cheeks as I draw back from her lips. Studying her face, I memorize every curve and angle with my artist’s eyes. Leaning forward I brush one final kiss on her wet, parted lips, letting my fingertips caress down her cheeks before falling away to rest at my sides.
Taking a step backward, I nod my head for her to go inside. She turns, without a word and enters her apartment. Our eyes connect for the last time as she pushes the door closed and I notice the sheen of tears in hers. Can she see the same in mine?
7
Josh
Pushing my aviators to the top of my head, I enter the open garage bay. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the artificial light as I step inside. The smell of oil and gasoline is strong in the air as my eyes seek out my father. Noticing him heading into one of the back offices, I start in the same direction. I exchange chin nods with a few of the mechanics I recognize on the way.
My old man isn’t a mechanic, and never has been. He went to college and graduated with a Master’s Degree in Business. He’d barely entered the workplace when he married my mother and nine months later they had my older brother, Jameson. Shortly after his birth, my dad reconnected with some old buddies and found out they were members of the Bastards a well-known outlaw biker club. I’m not sure why a successful businessman and family man would choose to join a club known for illegal activities, but for whatever reason that’s the path my dad headed down and indirectly dragged us with him. I resented him for that decision for most of my teenage years and even up until a couple of years ago. But as I’ve gotten older and I like to think wiser, I’ve come to understand that everyone walks a different path. What’s good for him, doesn’t have to be the same for me.
My knuckles rap against the bullet resistant steel and I wait for his command to enter. Pushing the door to his office open, I find him seated behind his large desk looking over a stack of invoices.
Glancing up, he smiles when he sees me. He rises to his feet, maneuvering his large frame around the desk and we hug. Thumping me in the middle of my back with his large hand, he asks, “what brings you to this neck of the woods?” Returning to his seat, he strokes his long beard while studying me.
Shrugging my shoulders, I sink into the chair across from him. “Would you believe I was in the area?”
“Fuck, no. You’ll have to do better than that, son.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about your offer to fund the tattoo shop. I’m seriously considering it.”
He studies me carefully, fingers steepled together. “Good. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think it was a good opportunity for you.”
“And you.” I raise my chin in his direction.
Leaning forward, I clasp my hands between my knees. “I have a couple of stipulations and if they’re deal breakers for you then we won’t ever talk about this again.”
He nods, letting me know I have his full attention.
“I don’t want club money financing the shop or being filtered through it.” I pause, sitting up straight against the back of the chair. “Aside from tattooing members, I don’t want the shop to be tied to the club at all.”
“That’s not a problem. I have my own investments outside of the money I make within the club. Turns out all those years in school didn’t go to waste.”
“I want control of hiring the staff and the studio design.”
“Josh, this will be your baby. You can run it how you see fit, but keep in mind you need to turn a profit for it to remain open.”
“Absolutely. I already have a tattoo artist buddy moving here from Seattle. His work is incredible and he’s built a solid name for himself. He’ll be an asset for sure.”
“I own a building in Boston. The location is prime for your shop. The tenant who was renting the bottom floor moved out after having a mom and pop type store there for almost twenty years and the other two floors are also vacant. You can use them as living space or make one your art studio. If you don’t want to utilize them, you can find tenants.”
What he’s saying is too good to be true. I can’t believe this is going to happen. “Wow, Dad. Thank you. I don’t even know what to say. I didn’t expect you to hand me everything on a platter. I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“I know you aren’t son, but I don’t get to do much for you. Let me do this.” He sits up, leaning his elbows on his desk. “When your mother passed I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you live with your grandmother. JD always gravitated toward me and the club life, but you and Owen never did.” He always refers to Jameson as JD, choosing to use his club name. Running a hand over the back of his neck he continues, “while my intentions were good, having you with your grandmother meant I didn’t get to spend much time with the two of you. That’s my biggest regret.”
“It’s not too late, Dad. I’ve no doubt there has to be a part of you that wanted us all to choose the club lifestyle, but I’m a lover not a fighter,” I joke, breaking up the seriousness of the moment.
“Yep, you are, son. You’re kind hearted like your mom. The only things you got from me are your good looks and charming personality.”
“You make me sound like a pussy. I’m not perfect, not even close to it. I’ve got flaws and weaknesses, the same as everyone else.” My thoughts immediately drift to Elle. She’s my biggest weakness and my feelings for her might prove to be my fatal flaw. “So, when can we start construction on the shop?” I ask, changing the subject. I’ve been pushing Elle out of my mind whenever she appears. Unfortunately, it happens more than I’m comfortable with. Maybe if I keep doing it she’ll eventually be wiped from my thoughts altogether.
“I’ve already lined up a general contractor and an architect. All you have to do is meet with them and we can get the ball rolling.”
Two Months Later: Late July
“Dude, it looks amazing,” my buddy Sean says, glancing around the finished shop.
My eyes take in the large open space of the reception area and the individual rooms designated for tattooing and piercing with pride. I had a hand in creating this from the demolition stage right to the finished product. My vision for the space has come to life with the help of my general contractor and my architect. We’ve spent entirely too much time together over the past two months.
Studying the wood clad back wall of the reception area, my gaze moves over the horizontal pieces of one hundred plus year old pine salvaged from a barn in New Hampshire. The varying shades and sizes of the boards add texture and depth to the wall. Hung smack in the middle is a sign with my studio logo I designed. It’s a naked girl surrounded by roses and Elle was my inspiration. Granted, no one else knows this but me and I intend to keep it that way; at least for now.
“Yeah, it really does. I can’t believe the grand opening is in two days. Are you ready?”
“I’m always ready.” He smirks. “I’ve got everything unpacked and put away. Is there anything else we need to do?”
“No, not that I can think of. Let’s go grab a couple brews at Tito’s. Tatum’s already there with some friends,” I say, mentioning the new receptionist. We lucked out when she walked in to interview for the job. She’s smart, personable and attractive in an edgy sort of way perfect for the studio and she desperately needed a job. She’d recently broken up with her boyfriend and moved out of their shared apartment. She hasn’t gone into details, but I’ve gotten the impression it didn’t end well. After her confession about needing the job and the details of why, I was concerned she’d bring too much drama. But, so far, she’s been a huge help, and eager to do whatever she can to assist us. The real test will be the grand opening.
I lock up and we head down the sidewalk. The night air is muggy and the sweat beads on my brow as we walk the two blocks to the bar in silence. Summer in the city has a different feel than the small New Hampshire town I grew up in. There’s no breeze to speak of, tonight.
When we step inside Tito’s, I breathe a sigh of relief as the cooler temperature of the air conditioning hits me. I swipe my bicep over my forehead, wiping the moisture on the short sleeve of the black vintage Rolling Stones tee Janny bought me for my last birthday.
The crowd is decent sized as we maneuver our way through in search of Tatum. We each grab a beer from the bar, before continuing. I spot her in the back corner at a table with a few other people.
“Hey,” she shouts with a smile. “I’m glad you guys showed.” She jumps out of the booth and hugs us both. “These are my friends, Liberty, Mel and Pete.”
We all exchange hellos and I can’t help but notice how attractive her friend Liberty is as she smiles in my direction. I conveniently end up in the vacant seat next to her. When she turns to speak to me, I notice her eyes are a beautiful light blue. Combined with her platinum blonde hair, the two make a striking combination.
“Tell me about yourself,” she says.
“What do you want to know?” I lean toward her.
She chews on her bottom lip. “Whatever you want to tell me.”
“I recently turned twenty-four, I’m an artist, a tattoo artist and Tatum’s new boss.”
“Interesting. I like creative guys. What medium do you work with?” She angles her upper body toward me.
“I’m a painter and I sketch too.”
“What do you paint? Would I have seen your work anywhere?” She wraps a long strand of blonde hair around her finger.
“If you’ve been to City Hall lately it’s possible.”
“Really?” she asks coyly, before wrapping her shiny lips around the straw. She sucks the liquid into her mouth, staring up at me flirtatiously. It would be so easy to encourage her and see where things would go, but it wouldn’t be fair to Liberty or me. Still hung up on Elle, I’m probably the only guy my age who has a fucking conscience. Anyone else would take the opportunity to get their dick wet.
“What do you do for work?” I ask, genuinely interested.
“I’m a full-time student at Northeastern. I’m getting my Masters in Pharmacology.”
“Nice. I’ve heard that’s a tough degree program to get into.”
“Yeah, it’s not easy, but I love school. I don’t love work so much, though.”
“Where do you work?” I ask, enjoying the ease of our conversation.
“J Street Diner. We’re open twenty-four-seven. It’s a decent place and I really can’t complain.”
“I’ve eaten there. The blueberry pancakes are amazing.”
“They are and so is everything else on the menu. You should come in sometime when I’m working.”
“Definitely. What’s your schedule like?” I question. This girl is cool and there’s no reason why we can’t at least be friends. Besides, Elle’s not going to occupy my heart forever. She can’t.
“I’m there every night Monday through Thursday from six to twelve.”
“I’m sure I’ll swing by sometime. I have to see if the pancakes are as good as I remember.” Raising the beer bottle to my lips, I take a deep pull and enjoy the icy cold beer as it hits my taste buds. My gaze sweeps around the table. Sean and Tatum are engaged in a conversation, heads close. Judging from the way Mel is draped over Pete, I think it’s safe to assume they’re a couple. My eyes return to Liberty and lock on hers. I smile. “Do you want to dance?”
“You dance?” she questions, her eyes wide with surprise.
“I do. I love to dance.” Rising from my seat, I hold my hand out for her. She places her palm against mine. I gently pull her to her feet and lead her through the crowd to the small dance floor in the front of the bar. My hands go to her hips and we start to move. I’ve been told I’m a good dancer by more than a few girls. My secret is I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. If I look like an idiot it doesn’t matter to me if I’m having fun. My mother taught me to dance when I was a kid. She always had music playing around our house. She would sing along as she moved from one task to another. If my brothers or I happened to walk by she would pull us over and make us dance. Our moves would run the gamut from comical to impressive, depending on our mood. We started at such a young age, it’s second nature now.
Taking her hand, I spin her around, placing her back to my chest. My left arm closes her in, wrapping across her stomach and my other hand rests on her hip.
She glances over her shoulder at me with a smile. “You’re pretty smooth.”
