Hard

2. Jett

JettShe walked in like a panther stalking her prey – if the panther had been bleached blonde and dumber than a box of rocks. Her heels gave her at least five extra inches and the skanky leopard-print top she was wearing revealed that her t**s were likely as fake as her hair. None of which bothered me for a quick f**k, but I knew the look on her heavily made-up face.

It told me she was looking for a sugar daddy and I was a lot of things, but not that.

I’d finished up with my last customer, Maria, and was cleaning up before my three o’clock. George was an old friend in his early fifties and he’d requested a tattoo in memory of his wife. She passed away only a year ago. There was no question that it still ate him up inside.

The bimbo in front waltzed toward the counter where Paul was staring at her ample cleavage like he could find God down there. But her eyes were on me, even when she leaned her heavy t**s over the counter for the poor boy to get a better look.

Why not just flash the poor f**k? I thought.

“Can you help me?” she asked him, batting eyelashes I assumed were false.

Paul looked like he was trying not to blow his load right then and there. “Um… uh, yeah. W-what’cha need?”

“I was hoping to get a tattoo.” Her eyes slid to me again. “Right here.” She pulled her top down even further and it was a f*****g miracle her n****e didn’t slide out. She slid her finger across the exposed skin there and winked at me.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and returned to cleaning up. Despite the natural reaction to the woman’s tit – about half a hard-on growing in my leather pants – I really wasn’t interested in f*****g her. She looked like way too much drama and maintenance. Not the kind of girl I liked playing with.

But so few of them are… My mind flashed to Sandra, but I wrenched it back before I went down that path again. I didn’t have time for that s**t now.

“Jesus,” Paul breathed, eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly. “Um, yeah. I’ll… see who’s available.”

Paul managed to tear his eyes away long enough to type a few keys, checking schedules. While he was busy, she grinned over at me. “What about you, handsome?” I barely spared her a glance. “Can you do me?”

The do me wasn’t subtle, an accident, or innocent in the slightest. I didn’t know if she really wanted a tattoo or not, but the woman oozed s*x.

Part of me gave a half a second to considering what she might do in the sack, but my mind quickly went to dangerous places. When I imagined her on her knees, her legs spread open by a bar between them, and a collar around her neck while her mouth was stuffed with a gag, I knew I couldn’t give her a shot. She looked about dumb enough to let me do what I wanted without thinking too much about what it really meant.

That was unacceptable.

Leaning out of my little booth, I waved at Leo who had a free hour between appointments. “Leo, take her, would you? I’ve got one in a few.”

Leo was not only my good friend, but a member of the Wild Aces like me. We rode together, and talked everything from p***y to choppers. He had a sliver of an idea of my personal tastes, but even he didn’t understand my reluctance to f**k a clearly willing piece of ass. Of course, Leo would f**k just about anything that opened for him. He wasn’t picky.

Raising a single eyebrow at me, he glanced between her and me, then back. “Sure, brother.” Then he waved the little thing over. But she wasn’t having it. I spared her a short look and saw that her face was flushed with anger. She’d jerked her shirt back up to cover her too-round tit and threw her bottle blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Never mind,” she bit off. “I changed my f*****g mind.”

Then she swiveled around and stomped off, heels clicking as she went. The poor kid at the counter, Paul, had huge eyes and didn’t seem entirely sure what had happened.

“I think you offended her,” Leo told me with a grin.

I snorted. “Obviously hard to do.”

Leo barked at Paul to go get him more ink needles from the back and the boy rushed like a tornado to do as asked. When he disappeared through the back door which led to storage, Leo turned back to me.

“What is your problem?” he demanded. He wasn’t really angry or anything, but this wasn’t exactly the first time I’d pawned off a piece of tail so that I didn’t have to deal with it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered to him. I glanced at the clock; George was running late.

“Whatever, dude. You know what I mean. That b***h probably would have gone down on you right here. While I watched. She all but begged you to put it in her.”

I didn’t give him an answer, because Leo was fine with a little bondage, but he didn’t get the rest. He didn’t understand the playroom or the collars or the control. He didn’t know.

“What are you, gay?”

I raised a single eyebrow in his direction. He was joking, we both knew it, but he quickly backpedaled anyway. “Kidding, kidding.” He looked toward the door, clearly still thinking about the woman. “Too bad she left. She could have been good for the tattoo competition.”

I shot Leo a look. “Are you out of your f*****g mind?”

He shrugged. “What? She was hot. People love sexy, tatted-up titties, you know that.”

I rolled my eyes. Yes, they did, but I didn’t want some leopard print piece of w*********h modeling my s**t. “f**k, Leo. She probably already has a damn lower back tattoo or maybe one straight up on her pussy.”

He grinned at me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“To each their own,” I conceded. “But I’m not entering some generic bimbo for the competition. I want someone classy, naturally beautiful.” I nodded toward the door. “The closest thing to natural on that woman was the damn leopard print.”

Leo laughed at me, but shook his head. “Jesus, Ink. Sometimes your standards are too high.”

I didn’t care. I wanted the best, and I’d have that, or nothing.

Leo went to find Paul when the boy took way too long to find the damn needles – or maybe he just didn’t want to deal with my too-high standards – and I was left alone to wait for George. I sat in the chair, leaning way back and lifting my arms to rest them on my head. Now that I was left alone, I admitted how long it had been.

Sure, I’d had s*x recently. Hell, I’d shot my load into that woman from the bar only last night. But s*x was boring lately. It was the kind of s*x that did the job the same way jerking off did. It took care of the problem, but it was only a quick fix for a deeper, darker urge that was always there in the background, waiting.

It was that waiting that had me on edge about women. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could do this vanilla crap before I finally just caved to my desires.

George showed up nearly fifteen minutes late, and I chewed his ass over it, but we still sat down to do the job. He was a good enough friend that I let his tardiness slide. We talked only a little, mostly about the tattoo and how much his wife had meant to him. He’d have to come back in for another session to finish up, but the scene looked good. I was proud of it.

There were only a few more appointments after that, split up between me and Leo. Paul answered phone calls and spent the rest of the time fetching things for Leo who liked to see him run or flipping through that stupid magazine of his.

We were closing up when Paul came to lean against the door frame, holding the magazine in his hands. “Jeez, look at this s**t!” He tapped on one of the pages. “Some chick is selling her virginity!”

Leo snorted. “Seriously? Probably some fat cow, right?”

Paul quickly agreed, but continued to read the magazine ad anyway. “‘23-year-old blonde female seeking man to take her virginity. For those inquiring, please contact—’ She lists an email. No picture though.” Paul skimmed a little farther and added, “‘Those unable to pay for the pleasure need not apply.’ Straight-up crazy. Is this even legal?”

“Hell no. It’s prostitution. She probably isn’t even a virgin. She’s just trying to make a big deal or whatever about it so that some i***t will pay her a lot of dough just to get between her legs.”

“Think she’s hot?”

Leo snorted again. “No. Like I said, fat cow. If she could get any, she wouldn’t be a virgin.”

Paul and Leo continued to discuss it, mentioning the drop-dead gorgeous models who’d sold their virginity and the college student here in the US. I shouldn’t have been as… intrigued as I was. Maybe it was the aching in my balls that had begun when I’d pictured that woman from earlier in my playroom, or maybe I’d just been stuck with the same old vanilla, missionary s*x for too long now. But I wanted to know more about this offer.

I wanted to know if she was still a virgin because she was unattractive or obnoxious, as Leo suggested, or if maybe, by some miracle, it was her shy, timid,submissive nature that had kept her legs together for this long.

Dare I even dream of being so lucky?

When we headed out for the day, I grabbed the magazine Paul had been looking at and decided before I even got home that I would email that woman.