by Anthology
She wants more than a tattoo. Am I slipping? I should’ve seen this coming a mile away. I move forward, ready to give her the full Vic Steele experience.
She jolts her head back a split second before our lips touch. “Let’s keep it professional. I’m here for your artwork, not your other talents.”
I let out the deep breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. God dammit, she’s a siren in an innocent school girl’s body. Why the hell does she drive me insane? I need her, and if the only way to get that skirt off her is to tattoo her again, maybe I should just do it.
No way. Come on, Vic. Stop thinking with your dick and let a little blood flow back to your brain. Who the hell does she think she is? I invented this game. There’s no way in hell I’m going to lose.
“You can’t handle my talents…none of them.” I lean over her shoulder, my breath blowing a few strands of her hair against her neck.
She fidgets and a line of goosebumps erupt along her skin. “I doubt that.” She leafs through a portfolio.
I stand up and point to the Japanese dragon gracing the open page. “That tattoo is a custom sketch. Won me the cover of Ink Magazine last year.” I take a few steps away, toward my chair. “More talent than you can imagine, with or without ink.” I wink and walk away.
Her volcanic stare shoots through my chest. I head over to my sketch table and plop into the leather seat, adjusting myself so I can see her from the corner of my eye. She slams the sketchbook closed and sets it back on the table.
Huh, I guess I got someone’s panties in a bunch. Not the first time, and it sure as hell won’t be the last. I smirk.
She trots to the other side of the shop. What the hell is she doing? Does she plan on tattooing herself? This chick is crazy.
I stare, my eyes glued to her every move. She struts to Tito’s chair, leaning forward until I can see the black hem of her underwear. Damn. I picture her bent over the chair, slamming myself into her as she screams my name. Who knows, if she plays her cards right it might happen.
She nods her head as Tito wipes off excess ink from the guy’s tattoo. “Looks great. Maybe the talent’s all right here.” She turns toward me, flashing a sexy half-smile.
Yeah, real funny. I rush toward them like a freight train on nitrous. Tito’s a good tattoo artist, hell he might even be great, but he’s not Vic Steele. Never was and never will be. I’ve worked my ass off to make the cleanest lines and images that pop off your skin, like they’re real. Unless Tito had divine intervention, she’s doing this shit to get a rise out of me, and not the kind I’m used to having.
“Sweet tat, Tito.” I do a quick once-over his work.
“Thanks man, Evan here is sitting like a rock.” Tito adds midnight blue to his palate. “Two more hours and this dragon will breathe fire.”
Jesus Christ, I have to deal with this chick flirting with straggly haired Evan while she blows sunshine up Tito’s ass? Not my idea of a productive day. I run a hand through my hair and blow air out my cheeks. “Catch you guys later, I have a killer eagle tat in five.”
“Wait, you’re tattooing someone else?” Hailey scrunches her eyebrows and stares at me, the same way my mom’s golden retriever does when she can’t understand why I won’t play ball in the middle of a snowstorm.
“Yep. They made this thing called an appointment about six months ago.” I head over to my station and grab the sketch of the design.
She follows me like a moth to a flame. “You could’ve finished this tattoo if you just started when I walked in here.”
I get ready for the next client like she’s not standing so close her fruity perfume burns through me. “Yeah, probably.”
“You know what, Vic? You might be this amazing tattoo artist, but as a human being you’re a real asshole.” She turns around and storms toward the door.
“Whoa, I think you got it all wrong, babe. I am not tattooing you because I’m afraid you’re gonna pass out for a third time, and probably smash your head off the floor or something. I’m pretty much protecting you from yourself. You should probably be thanking me, you know, like I’m your hero.”
She huffs and breaks into a demented smile. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
Damn, her hatred for me at this moment makes me want to throw her down on that leather couch and show her just how bad she wants me to finish. I set up a few small cups for my color scheme. “That’s what I hear.” The fire in her eyes floats through the room like a raging inferno. Life lesson, don’t try to outsmart a player. College doesn’t prepare you for times like this.
She storms toward the door, looking over her shoulder. “First of all, you’re sure as hell no hero, and second, I am not your babe.” She holds up her fingers, making air-quotations before rushing out of the shop.
“Not yet.” I stare as she dashes out of the shop, her hair swinging like a wrecking ball. Why do I want her to come back?
CHAPTER 3—TIME WARP
“Thanks for letting me crash at your place for the weekend.” My brother Sam catches the keys to my apartment as I push open the door to the shop.
“Don’t drink all my beer.” I give him a quick nod and head inside.
I might drop dead if my little bro actually called instead of showing up like he’s stranded. I get it; he wants some time away from his home in our parents’ basement. Newsflash, if he gets an actual job, he can move the hell out. Or even find a place here in the city, even though it’s more like a glorified town. I get it, he’s got dreams…been there. Maybe his band will make it and he’ll be a golden guitar god. Gets tons of ass with the gig either way. He probably has some chick waiting on the steps already. Guess the genetics shine through.
I file across the shop, balancing the portfolios I was updating last night, along with a cup of coffee. I set everything down on the table near my station. Okay, one two-hour session of a photo realistic timber wolf, and then a quick ankle rose for a college chic. I might even have some time for a walk-in today.
Heels click along the floor forming an angry melody. I turn and glance from the corner of my eye. A smokin’ hot body invades my field of vision. She arranges the portfolios on the table, angling them like Martha Stewart is about to critique her work. What the hell is going on? Did Tito hire someone without telling me?
I spin my chair around and lock eyes with the vixen who’s quickly become my nemesis. “Ah, the terminator returns.”
“Hail, Hitler.” She continues to arrange some flyers next to the portfolio, shoving her ass in my direction.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. She’s insane. Totally psychotic mixed with sexy as fuck. How the hell did I get dragged into this demented game? Hell, I’ll play. Hope she knows the stakes are higher than she thinks. She better be ready to lose big-time.
Tito lifts his chin and smirks, returning to his drawing. Dick! He probably hired her just to piss me off. I get it, he’s jealous of my skills. Well, he’s about to see a whole new set.
“What gives? You the new cleaning lady? I’ll hook you up with a French maid costume.”
She shoots daggers at me with one look. “Unlike you, I don’t want to hang around here like a useless lump until I head to the chair.” She finishes arranging her masterpiece.
“Awesome. Free services.” I try and hold back a smile.
She walks toward me like a freight train on fire, slamming her hands on her hips and stopping an inch before me. “I can go a block up the road and they’d be thrilled to tattoo me. Especially since it involves fixing a Vic Steele tattoo gone wrong.”
I slide a hand in my pocket and nod. “Yeah, but you won’t have the Vic Steele tattoo your friends have.” Okay, so I didn’t tattoo either one of them but she gets the point.
She huffs. “What’s it gonna take to get this done?” She drops her hands and flashes those puppy dog eyes at me. “The whole point was to get matching tattoos to always remind us of the sisterhood. Now I’m left with nothing.”
“Wow,
maybe you should be holding your Oscar and thanking the academy.” An involuntary smile graces my face.
She bows her head like she just missed the final pass in the championship game. “It’s not like I expect you’d understand.”
Tears fill her eyes. God dammit. What is it with chicks? It’s like they know exactly when to turn on the waterworks and make us feel like shit. I can’t let her break down in the shop, it’s not good for business.
I lift her chin until her eyes lock with mine. “I’ve got an easy schedule today.” So much for using any extra time to tie up loose ends. Someday I’m actually gonna get enough peace and quiet to add some kick-ass drawings to the mix. “Got dinner plans?”
She shrugs. “Maybe you could fit me in before your next appointment.”
“Yeah, like I’m gonna tattoo you when you haven’t eaten. You’ll probably pass out before you hit the chair. Not gonna happen.”
She scrunches her eyebrows like an eternal struggle is going down in her brain. “Okay. Your treat.” She heads over to the front counter and clears off the area near the register. “Just so we’re clear, this is not a date.”
“Hell no. Your payment for all the tidying up around here.” I gesture toward the waiting area. It’s never looked better. I guess the place needs a woman’s touch.
She bites her lip, trying to hold in a smile.
“It’s gonna be a few hours. Want me to pick you up at your dorm?”
She stops dead, like time just froze. “Sounds like a date, maybe I should meet you there.”
I hold up my hands. “Not a date. More like a business meeting. Who knows, maybe you can convince me to take another shot at that tattoo.”
She spins her head around, almost like Regan in the Exorcist. “Hmm, my law elective just might come in handy… Okay, Gunter Hall room 204. What time?”
“Eight. Should I bring flowers?” I wink.
“Yeah, funny.” She flings her purse over a shoulder and heads toward the door.
I hold open the door and guide her forward, placing my hand in the small of her back. The aroma of her fruity perfume fills the air. I breathe deep, imagining her hair flowing down her naked back. Her ass propped up as I thrust myself deep inside of her.
She stops and turns back toward me. “I require utensils and a tablecloth.”
I stare at her red lips, trying to will my dick to stay down. “No Mickey D’s?” I let out a chuckle. “Don’t worry, I got you covered. Who knows, you might even have fun.”
“With you?” She looks me up and down.
“Don’t knock it till you tried it.”
We walk side by side down the sidewalk. The lukewarm breeze blows her skirt along her perfect thighs. I resist the urge to run my hand up her leg to her panties. What the hell am I doing? It’s like a pity fuck without the fucking. She waves and turns the corner. My eyes glue to every move until she disappears.
**********
I weave my Mustang in between the lines of the tight parking lot and pull into a spot. Jesus Christ, some drunken frat boy better not hit my doors. If that’s the case, it’ll be their last party. I step out of the car and close the door, clicking the key fob as I slide my wallet into the black dress pants I haven’t worn since last year when I was at my cousin’s wedding. Two girls stand to the side of a sign that reads Gunther Hall. At least I know I’m in the right place. I give them a quick nod and head toward the door.
“Hey, you coming in?” a blonde wearing shorts up to her ass cheeks yells to me.
“Yeah. Do I need to scan a fingerprint or promise my first born?”
“Not if you’re with me.” She gestures for me to follow her.
Whoa, if I knew it was this easy to score I’d hang out around here more often. If Sam came with me, these girls would lose their minds. “Thanks.”
She presses a few buttons and pulls open the door. “Here to see anyone in particular?” She flutters her eyelashes and nibbles her lip.
“Yeah, looking for room 204.” I scan her from head to toe before I can stop myself.
“Up the steps and to the right.” She flashes a sexy smile. “I’m in 110 if you get lost or something.” She walks away, glancing over her shoulder before she turns the corner.
I stare at her ass bouncing under her shorts. Damn. Is every girl in here hot as fuck? Maybe I should nix this dinner and head over to room 110. I mean, Hailey doesn’t give a shit about me. She just wants a tattoo, which takes very few skills to pull off. Letting someone else finish it would give them bragging rights, and I can’t let that happen. Hell no. No one fixes a Vic Steele tattoo because they’re always fucking awesome.
If I finish the tattoo I won’t get to see her sweet ass around the shop anymore. Now I get why chicks like to lead you on…prolong the agony, or the ecstasy. Never thought I’d miss being called Hitler every time she sees me. Those fiery eyes filled with passion burn through me like hot coals. Somehow she scarred my soul, like a perfect tattoo. I can’t peel my eyes away.
I head up the stairway. She’s screwing with me, and it’s making me want her more. What the fuck? It’s like she’s some voodoo master putting her evil spell on me. And now, I’m taking her to dinner with no hope of fucking her after. God, it’s like I turned into a priest.
I focus on the numbers on the dark gray doors…204. I hold up my hand to knock a split second before the door swings open.
Hailey stands in the doorway and tugs on her black sundress. Her sexy-as-hell heels make those legs go on for miles. I’m doomed. How do I pry myself away from this alluring creature?
“You’re late.” She glances at her cell phone screen and drops it in her small purse.
“Had a little moment with the girl from downstairs.” I flash a half-smile which turns her cheeks crimson. A little jealousy goes a long way.
“You’re a real piece of work. Let me guess, you had a quickie before taking me out. Real classy.” She pulls the door shut with way more force than necessary.
She gets under my skin in a million different ways. If I could just get under hers…or any part of her, for that matter. “I thought this wasn’t a date.”
“It’s not.” She stomps down the hallway.
“Hmm, then why are your panties in a bunch?” I catch up to her.
She stops right before the steps and spins toward me, her long brown locks smacking me in the face as she moves. “First of all, this is the furthest thing possible from a date. Second, you have absolutely no effect on my panties whatsoever.” She grabs the strap of her purse and marches down the steps.
“And third, you’re a little jealous of the harem of woman who want me.” I hold in a laugh and hop down the steps, trying to catch up with her.
She shakes her head. “You’re delusional. And I think those girls should take a trip to the psych floor of the hospital.”
“Very unprofessional talk for a business meeting, Hailey.” That should set her off into a frenzy.
“Which car is taking me to this meeting, a Benz with a Swastika on it?” She pushes open the door and steps onto the pavement.
Ah, I get it. The Hitler-mobile. “Close, the black Mustang.” Her sweet ass has never been nestled in a better machine. I click the key fob.
She struts over to the passenger side door and pulls open the handle. “So, where we going?” She slides into the seat and softly closes the door.
At least she respects my wheels; not likely any of that will flow to me. “How about you stop asking so many questions and let me surprise you.” I get in the driver’s side and fire up the engine.
“Your surprises are dangerous.” She pulls on her seatbelt.
“You have no idea.” I slip into Reverse and hightail it out of the parking lot.
She grabs the seatbelt, pulling it over herself like she’s about to crash into a mountain. “Am I going to live long enough to eat dinner?”
“Don’t worry, she sticks to the road like glue.” I stare at the road, catching a glimpse of Hailey out of th
e corner of my eye.
She nibbles her nails and pushes against the floor mat like she has her own personal brake.
“What’s wrong? Can’t handle a little speed?” I put my hand on her knee.
She knocks it off with one swoop. “First lesson of driving, keep your hands on the wheel.”
I smirk and grip the leather steering wheel. Doesn’t feel even remotely as good as her soft, flawless skin.
She pranced around the shop, using her unique tactics to try and get me to tattoo her like a woman on mission. No fear, no regrets, just pure passion charging her to get exactly what she wants. What’s gotten into her now? It’s like she’s reverting to damsel-in-distress mode.
I make a sharp left and pull into the parking lot of the Cedar Point Inn, one of the best restaurants in town.
She lets out the breath she’d been holding as I slide into a parking space. “Really? Didn’t think this was your kind of place.”
I shrug. “You said utensils and tablecloths required.”
I get it…because I like to play the field and tattoo for a living I’m all about the bar scene and have no idea what a real date constitutes. Okay, so I’m rusty in the romance department. Haven’t had a steady girl in years but I remember how it works. Besides, I need to focus on my career with no complications. Why the hell am I so worried about this chick’s opinion of me?
“I’m impressed.” She opens the door and steps outside, sliding one leg over the other like they do in those sexy pantyhose commercials. No way in hell it’s a coincidence. She knows exactly what to do and how to do it. Could I have met my match?
“Don’t act so surprised.” Maybe she’s learning there’s a hell of a lot more to Vic Steele than meets the eye. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind my reputation. Hell, sometimes I’m the first to brag about it, but not everything is always what it seems.
I hop out of the car and click the fob to lock the doors. She struts along the length of the car and comes around to my side. No spunky remarks or digs at my motives, just a girl on a date with a guy. Oh yeah, a non-date-business-meeting. Why is this sudden change scaring the shit out of me?
