9. I’ve Done Worse to get Some Pussy
nine
I’ve Done Worse to get Some Pussy
Dylan
I knock on Jack’s office door before poking in my head. “Hey, boss. You busy?”
“No busier than usual. Come on in.”
When I sit down across from him, he says, “You know, we are practically family. You don’t have to keep calling me boss.”
“Yeah, I know. But not doing it while we are working just feels wrong.”
He laughs. “Whatever you say, man. So, how’s everything going?”
“Not bad. I finished up the transmission job on Mrs. Flanigan’s truck.”
“Great. Thanks. I’ll call and let her know.” He makes a note on a pad on his desk. “What else is going on? Did you have fun the other night?”
“Yeah, it was a good time. ”
I’ve been doing my best not to think about Leah. I was hoping to get to know her better after our night of fun, but all she left was a note.
No phone number.
No future plans.
I don’t even have her last name.
That hasn’t kept me from thinking about her almost constantly, though. Some women fuck you so good that you’ll never forget them. Leah tops that list for me. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to get her out of my head.
I’ve been with my fair share of women, and not many of them have gotten under my skin like that.
Wanting to change the subject, I ask, “So, how’s my pregnant sister?”
“Well, she can no longer see her ankles, so that’s been a fun new development.”
My nose scrunches up. “How’s she taking that?”
“She’s always been thin and athletic, and now, in her words, she feels like a big gross blob.”
“Jack, she’s not that big. She just looks like she has a volleyball under her shirt.”
“Dylan, you know that. And I know that. But Liz?” He throws his pen in the air in defeat. “Talking to her, you’d think she’s as big as a barn.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Nah, I don’t think so. We are in the homestretch now. Thank the lord.” He seems to get lost in his thoughts for a moment. “Anyway, everything else is good? ”
“Not bad, I guess.”
Jamie comes walking in with a huge shit-eating grin on his face.
Jack looks at the clock. “You’re late.”
“Sorry. I got stuck in traffic.”
I roll my eyes. “You live five minutes away.”
“I was driving from Kensington.”
Jack asks. “Are you still seeing that Amy girl?”
Jamie grins while pushing his blonde hair out of his face. “Oh, I’m still seeing all of her.”
Jack says, “I don’t care how much you’re seeing . Just get to work on time.”
“Aye-aye, captain,” he responds with a small salute. “Dylan, have you seen your wild one any more?”
“No. And how do you know how wild she is?”
“A girl who looks like that? She’s got to be wild. Plus, Amy has told me she’s the tame one of the two of them. And trust me, that’s saying something.”
“I’m not giving you details if that’s what you’re after,” I tell him.
“Just wondering why you haven’t called her.”
“One, none of your damn business. Two, refer back to number one.”
“Why so cranky?” He asks. “Sounds like you need to get laid. I have this great girl you should call.”
“When did you become my pimp?”
“Well, you don’t seem to be doing great on your own.”
Man, this kid gets a taste of pussy from an older woman, and he suddenly thinks he’s Cassanova. I’ve been in the dating game since he was a pimply-faced preteen .
“I’m doing just fine,” I assure him.
“Whatever you say. I’m just saying maybe she’d like to hear from you.”
“If she wanted me to call, she would’ve given me her number.”
“Dude, I could get her number from Amy.”
“No,” I argue. “That just seems creepy.”
“I don’t think she’d see it that way. From what she told Amy, the sex was incredible.”
Sounds like Amy has a big mouth.
But it makes me feel good that she called the sex incredible. Glad to know she enjoyed it as much as I did.
As Jamie stands up to get to work, he says, “Just in case you’re interested, both of the girls work at Hot Pink Ink over in Kensington.”
“Uh, thanks.”
When he’s gone, Jack rubs his hands over his eyes. “I don't know what the hell to do with that boy. He’ll make a great mechanic if he could learn to keep his mouth shut.”
“I don’t see that happening.”
“Yeah, unfortunately, I think we are all doomed to hear about his sex escapades until the end of time.”
“Probably,” I agree.
But at this point, I’m only half-listening to this conversation. I’m back to thinking about Leah. Images of her ass bouncing on my cock flood my brain.
Man, it’s going to be a long fucking day.
Veronica: Hey, Dyl. What are you up to?
I grab my phone off the coffee table where I’ve propped up my feet to read the text.
Me: Just watching a basketball game.
Veronica: Who’s winning?
I have to look on the screen that I’ve been mindlessly staring at for the past hour. At this point, I don’t even remember who’s playing.
It suddenly occurs to me that my sister doesn’t give a shit about basketball.
Me: Do you really care?
Veronica: Nope. Not even a little bit.
Me: Why are you asking about sports? Are you okay?
Veronica: Fine. Just bored. Waiting on a Zoom call with a client.
I ask her a couple more questions to make some small talk, but she ghosts after a few minutes. That’s Ronnie—here one minute and gone the next. I love her, but she takes being flighty to a whole new level.
My eyes get heavy as I stare back at the TV screen. I really need to get up and do something because it’s way too early to go to bed. I’d wager I’m not even tired—just bored.
I start scrolling through news stories on my phone, but once again, I don’t pay attention to a single one. I’m still thinking about Leah .
Usually, I have no problem with leaving my one-night-stands in the past. We’re both aware that it’s just some fun where we both get our jollies off.
So, why can’t I seem to think about anything aside from Leah?
It can’t just be the good sex. I’ve had plenty of that.
It has to be more.
Maybe it’s the fact that I have more questions than answers.
What was she drinking to avoid thinking about?
What was going on behind those blue eyes of hers?
How did she drink that much alcohol without falling over?
And how the hell is she so good at darts?
I’d like to get an answer to at least one of those questions.
Feeling a little intrigued, I pull out my phone and type Hot Pink Ink into the search bar.
It’s the first result, and I click the link.
The tagline read not your average tattoo shop.
Immediately, I go to the tab that says meet our artists.
I recognize Amy as the first one, and the second one is Leah. I stop to read the small bio.
Leah recently relocated from Portland and has close to ten years of experience. She loves doing all sorts of tats, but her favorites are ones with intricate detail. Even when Leah isn’t working, she’s constantly drawing and thinking of new designs.
Well, that tells me practically nothing.
I look at her photo which is her in the middle of doing some ink. She’s wearing latex gloves and has a tattoo gun in one hand and is giving devil horns with the other. Her hair is piled up on top of her head in a messy bun, and she’s sticking out her tongue.
Even in just a photo, she’s stunning .
I click on the button to take me to her portfolio, and I scroll through pictures of the work she’s done. It’s all incredible. I wonder if she had won the bet, what kind of tattoo she would have given me.
Maybe I should find out.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I click on the phone number at the bottom of the page.
It only takes one ring for a young female voice to answer. “Hot Pink Ink. This is Luanne. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Luanne. I’m looking to book an appointment with Leah.”
“Okay, let me pull up her calendar. Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“No, not yet. Maybe something on my chest or my arm.”
“Alright, it looks like she had a cancellation tomorrow evening. Does that work for you?”
“That’s perfect. I’ll be there.”
“What’s your name?”
I think for a moment, not wanting her to know I’m coming ahead of time. “Michael,” I reply, giving her my middle name.
She gives me a time to be there, and we hang up.
Maybe this is totally crazy, but fuck it. I’ve done worse to get some pussy when I don’t even care about getting to know the girl better.
I guess I’m getting a tattoo.