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DeanWalker:Ihopeeverything is okay with Bette.
Lennon Quinn: She’s good.
Dean Walker: If you need anything, or someone to talk to, call me.
Lennon Quinn: Thanks.
In a white tank top with phases of the moon print, she moves around, dancing to her earphones right as Scar pounces on her feet.
Bending to rub his fur, her burgundy shorts accentuate her curvy ass and my eyes wander along her white knee socks.
I lick my lips.
I would be fingering the screen if it’d miraculously transfer to her. Pleasure her. Cater to her needs.
There are moments she forgets I have cameras around the house although I warned her.
Maybe she does it on purpose.
Her hand reaches down to pinch her clit, the other cups her breast and squeezes her nipple between two fingers.
I groan to myself.
The thin fabric doesn’t hide her taut nipples from me—the same ones I would suck and tease if I could.
Dean
September
DeanWalker:Areyouokay?
Lennon Quinn: Yes! Thank you for asking. The shop is doing well, I try to book as many clients as I can fit into our tight schedule.
Dean Walker: Don’t stress yourself about it. If you need to take breaks in between to gain some energy, do it. People will have to wait.
Lennon Quinn: Yeah, I already scheduled a break next month. Thank you for this opportunity again. I’ve had an amazing time these past few months. I feel like I’m finally starting to utilize all these resources and take on designs I’m truly passionate about.
That’s all I ever wanted.
Dean
JulyandAugustvanishedin the blink of an eye while I visited tattoo parlors around the country. Even got the chance to shoot a commercial with a few other artists as a celebration of the industry. A decade of talented people showcasing their extraordinary skills.
The final days of September are painting the streets of New York with their earthy shades yet all I see is the genius who owns a fucking building, Luka Birmingham AKA The Devil.
Well, I call him the Australian darkness; dark hair, dark eyes, a huge fondness for all things dark, and an Australian accent to top it all off.
He’s a good man. Probably one of the most genuine individuals I’ve encountered so far in my travels. His outlook on life is a miracle after the loss he endured as a young man. In his twenties, channeling all of that into a successful tattoo shop and an underground nightclub is damn impressive.
He closes the distance between us, “Hey, mate. It’s good to have you here.”
“Thank you for inviting me.” I clap his hand and give him a quick embrace accompanied by another clap on the back. “It’s been a while since the last time I was here, how are you?”
“Busy as usual.” A side grin crosses his face. “Wild as always.”
I laugh at that.
Luka and I go way back to when he started his career as a tattoo artist. We first met seven years ago when he was still in diapers as an artist. Impressed with him, we stayed in contact, mainly because of his inviting energy.
