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I want to be close to her. Need to for every single moment. For as long as I can, as often as I can.
Forever.
“She’s good at what she does.”
Buster tilts his head at me, as though telling me he knows I’m lying.
“And sure, I know tattooing me is a good step in her career. But I wouldn’t hire her to tattoo me unless I believed in her skills.”
“That’s good to hear,” Julian replies. “Like I said, I believe in her too. But I wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”
“We are,” I say.
I’m using the same lips that were pressed against his daughter’s sex, the same tongue that explored her body. It’s so wrong to arrange the tattoo with her when I know what happened last time, and I know there is a high risk that it could happen again.
“Lauren’s designs were excellent. Exactly what I was looking for.”
That much is true. When I saw her vision for incorporating the tribal tattoo, a connection to the gravestone, life flourishing on vines, as though giving light to the darkness…I knew it was the right one.
“Awesome. I’ve just heard from Clive, by the way.”
Clive’s one of our contacts at our new company.
Julian and I talk business for a while, then my apartment buzzer sounds, telling me Lauren’s here.
After saying goodbye to her Dad, I scratch Buster as I rise to my feet.
“No disappearing this time,” I tell him. “You stay with me, okay, boy? That way, no funny business happens.”
I walk through my apartment, Buster at my side, reminding myself over and over again to be civilized.
Be a gentleman. Don’t be the animal she threatens to make me every moment.
“Hello?” I say, pressing the intercom button.
“A woman to see you, sir. She says she’s here for a tattoo appointment.”
“Let her up,” I tell the security guard.
Buster watches me as I pace the hallway, wringing my hands, struggling not to let my body heat up. The excitement swells within me, reminding me of the day before last, the office, the sudden heat.
I leaped on her like a beast.
This time, I’ll be better. I’ll try to be.
A knock comes at the door, causing Buster to go into his mad tail-wagging mode, his whole butt shifting from side to side.
“It’s me,” Lauren calls, her voice shaky.
I think of the words I aimed at her.
Nothing happened.
I said those for a reason.
When I open the door, Buster darts forward, and Lauren laughs and kneels, giving him lots of attention and allowing me to aim my attention at her.
She’s wearing a checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled up, torn blue jeans, and big chunky boots, all items that would make any other woman look like she was here to work and do nothing else.
