Page 91 of Rome
“I’m going to head back to my place while I still have the strength to walk away,” I told her with a wry grin. She had no idea how true that statement really was. I was fighting a battle within myself not to carry her upstairs and reconnect with every inch of her body.
“I drew up my idea for my new tattoo. Do you want to see it before I apply the stencil?”
She decided she did, so we arranged for her to stop by during her lunch hour tomorrow. Luckily, the shop was only a few miles from the school.
I left then and stopped by the MMA gym for a bit on my way back to the duplex. I needed to work off some of the tension caused by thoughts of my wife giving a blowjob to Grant-Motherfucker-Mowery, as well as my sexual frustration at being so close to her without touching her in all the ways I was dying to do.
I got in a good workout with Bodhi, who was the only club brother around at that time of night. The rest of the guys there were MMA fighters and steroid-filled wannabes hanging around hoping for the chance to spar with their idols.
By the time I got back to my place and showered, I was tired, and my tension had eased. I flopped back onto the bed, grinning at the faint scent of cherry blossoms that wafted up from the spare pillow. I’d spritzed it with the body spray again last night before going to sleep.
My cock chubbed up, thinking about Abby, and I quickly wrapped my hand around it and tugged one out, busting my nut with the sound of her name on my lips, and the image of her pretty, pink pussy – all mine – in my mind.
I slept for a solid eight hours, then showered and headed to work early. I stopped on the way to buy doughnuts and coffee and left them in the small staff breakroom for the others to find whenever they got in for the day. I spent a while working on the books, authorizing some invoices to be paid by Irish, and placing an order for supplies before the shop was open. It was much easier to do that shit when things were quiet, and I could concentrate without a dozen fucking interruptions.
Lacey got there a few minutes before ten, to get the shop open and ready for business. Dax waltzed in a couple of minutes later, just in time to grab a doughnut before his first client of the day showed up. Saint and Diego weren’t due in until the early afternoon, since they were both working until we closed tonight at eleven o’clock.
Shortly before noon, Lacey came back to let me know that one of the club girls was there, having apparently mixed up her appointment time. She wasn’t supposed to be there until two, when Saint was there, but insisted her appointment was at twelve.
“I’ve got a client in the chair, so I can’t take the time to deal with her. I’ve never seen this chick before. Destiny something-or-another. She says she needs to get back to the clubhouse, but Dax won’t be done with his client for another hour, probably. He’s free after that unless she wants to wait for Saint.”
“Yeah, she’s new. Go ahead and send her back. I’ll talk to her and straighten it out. Oh, and Abby will be here in about twenty minutes, so you can just send her straight back here when she arrives.” Lacey flashed me a grin along with a thumbs-up, happy that we were getting back together.
I’d been working on a design for a new client I’d just finished a consultation with, and I sighed as I heard the clip-clomp of a pair of high-heels striding down the hall toward my suite.
I looked up to greet her, trying to hide my eyeroll at the sight of her. Even if I hadn’t known she was a club bunny, I could have figured it out by the way she was dressed – or rather, not dressed – for the occasion.
Jesus, this one was letting it all hang out. Her skirt was so damned short that I could tell she was waxed bare, and her tits were hanging so far out of her shirt that I could see her half of her nipple on each side. Her hair was colored an obnoxious shade of red, and her false eyelashes were so long they looked like she was being attacked by a pair of tarantulas.
She was playing with her hair as she stood there listening to me explain her choices were to either wait one hour for Dax, or wait two hours for Saint, and I almost cringed at the sight of her fake fingernails. The tips were at least an inch long, and filed to sharp points that could probably double as lethal weapons.
She nodded her head like a bobblehead doll, then asked why I couldn’t just do her tattoo now myself. She took a step closer to me and reached out to run one of those deadly talons down the center of her chest, trying to draw my attention to her cleavage. I kept my eyes trained on her face, having zero desire to look at anything she had on display.
“It won’t take you very long, and I’ve heard you’re the best.”
“Sorry, I’m booked.” I replied, trying to be polite.
“Oh, come on,” she pouted, or at least tried to. She had too much of that filler shit pumped into her lips to get them to do much of anything. “I heard about your divorce, and how you love bunnies, but I’ve not seen you around the clubhouse yet. I promise, I’ll make it worth your while. You can tattoo my ass, and then I’ll let you fuck it.”
“Fuck, no! You heard wrong. I’m happily married, now get the hell out of here. Your ass is banned from this shop, as of now.”
She stomped her foot and started to argue, but I grabbed her arm and marched her out into the hallway, only to see Abby standing there with a fast-food bag in her hand and an expression on her face that I just couldn’t read.
I dropped my chin to my chest in defeat. Fuck my life.
Chapter 30
Abby
Monica, the woman who covered the front desk at the school while I took my lunch break, needed to leave early today for a dental appointment, so I’d taken my break about fifteen minutes early. I went through a fast-food drive-through, picking up some burgers and fries for Caleb and me, then made my way to the shop.
Lacey was busy with a client in her piercing suite, so I gave her a quick wave as I skirted the front counter and walked down the hall toward Caleb’s suite. I came to a stop in the middle of the hallway as a woman’s voice echoed down the hall.
“I heard about your divorce, and how you love bunnies, but I’ve not seen you around the clubhouse. I promise, I’ll make it worth your while. You can tattoo my ass, and then I’ll let you fuck it.”
I stood there in shock, unable to believe the audacity of the woman, my eyes widening even more as I heard Caleb yelling at her, ordering her out of the shop. Before I could move, he appeared in the doorway, his arm wrapped around the woman’s bicep as he all but frog-marched her down the hall. He caught sight of me standing there, and the disgust on his face morphed into horror. He dropped his head, then immediately snapped it up and pinned me with a pleading stare. He let go of her arm as if it burned, then almost tripped over his tongue in his haste to reassure me.
“Abby! This is not what it looks like.”
