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My cock twitched back to life. Maybe if this coffee date went well, we could see if that explosive sex was still possible. The room was already set up and ready to go; all he had to do was come over.
I reached the coffee shop we were meeting at, a quiet little place tucked toward the end of South Beach, next to a large hotel that reflected a shower of sunlight onto the pavement. I was lucky enough to grab a parking spot right down the street from the shop. For South Beach, that was like finding a golden ticket in your chocolate bar. I felt good, excited about the day ahead. There was something in the air. It was difficult to pinpoint, but I could feel it.
As I walked, I passed a tattoo shop, their doors thrown open. I could hear machines buzzing as the artists inked their clients. The thought of getting another tattoo crossed my mind. Maybe after this meetup. I’d been wanting to add to the few that were on my ribs. My thigh could use a touch-up, too, where I currently had a surrealistic scene tattooed of an octopus growing out of the roots of an elm tree being the main focus. Around the tree were a few different types of flowers, all of them colored in vibrant ink.
Colorful enough to hide some of the scar tissue underneath.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Rodrigo. I stopped outside of the doors to the coffee shop and read the message, rolling my eyes toward the very end.
“Hey, Rocky! I was really looking forward to catching up with you, but something came up last minute. I can’t make it today. I feel terrible. I know I always do this, but my grandma’s cat is just super sick and she ended up falling down the stairs and breaking her shoulder. My grandma not the cat, but then the cat was hurt when my grandma had fallen on top of her. Sorry! I swear I’ll make the next one.”
Well, there went all that shit about being excited and ready for a fun time. I turned back to the tattoo shop. I didn’t bother trying to reschedule. This was the fourth time Rodrigo had done this to me. I rarely let people even get one chance to disappoint me; meanwhile, Rodrigo’s record of canceling at the last minute remained unbroken.
I texted back a simple “that’s fine” to his paragraph of steaming hot bullshit. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and stepped into the busy tattoo shop. A smiling, pink-and-white-haired guy greeted me as I walked in. He leaned over a glass display, showing off a variety of piercings, ranging from the normal to the ones that looked like little penises.
“Here for a tattoo?” he asked.
I nodded. Someone grunted in pain, the buzz of the machine pausing for a moment.
“Here’s the portfolio with all our artists. Check it out and let me know who you’d want me to schedule you with. Cleo and Jackson are both taking walk-ins right now if you wanted it done today.”
“Perfect, thank you.” I grabbed the thick, leather-covered portfolio and took it over to the comfortable chairs sitting against the electric-yellow walls. The name of the tattoo shop was painted in bold blue strokes across the far wall: Bluetail Tattoos. There were colorful candy skulls hung up on either side of the painted name.
I flipped through the portfolio, the frustration and disappointment still simmering but very much disappearing. I was never one to get hung up over someone. I kept everyone at arm’s length, and farther if possible. Maybe that was why this time had sucked, because I let myself get excited about something for once.
Fuck it. I just had to stay with my routine: work and fucking guys with strictly no strings attached. No coffee dates or dinner dates or Netflixing and chilling. I had to stick with what was working for me, and not letting anyone in had been working for me for years now.
As I tried to distract myself with the tattoo portfolio, my phone buzzed again, this time with a message from my hookup app. I opened it, deciding I could meet up with someone else and just keep it strictly physical. My cock twitched against my thigh at the idea of picking up that plug again. Maybe this man would be the bright spot to my shitty fucking day.
“Hey sexy,” the headless torso pic messaged me. There was long hair in the photo, appeared to be tied in a messy bun. “Looking?”
I usually went for guys with a little more meat on their bones, but I didn’t mind all that much. On his chest, it appeared like he had gotten a fresh tattoo of a cross.
I looked around the buzzing tattoo shop. Well, I guess that’s a sign. “Looking for a fun time, yeah. You?” I messaged back.
