1. CHAPTER ONE #3
“Only the ones I want to know more about.” I winked, which made her smile widen.
“So, what kind of tattoo do you want, Oya?” I asked, trying to get my mind out of the gutter, which seemed impossible where Oya was concerned.
I wanted to do nasty shit to her body. “Your name is absolutely beautiful by the way.”
“Oh. Thank you. My mother had a thing for African Mythology. Anyway, back to why I’m here,” she said laughing. “I’d like, to live is to suffer...”
“To survive is to find some meaning in the suffering,” I said, finishing the Fredrich Nietzsche quote.
Her eyes widened. “You know Nietzsche?” she asked, surprise lacing her voice.
“Don’t let the tats and good looks fool you, Oya. I’m a man of many talents.”
I chuckled at the embarrassment covering her face.
“No, no,” she shook her head, “I didn’t mean it that way, Saint. I’m sorry. I can’t even get my students to like anything concerning Nietzsche. It was just a pleasant surprise.”
“Teacher?”
I pulled out my sketch pad from the desk drawer to take notes during our consultation.
“Professor, actually,” she said, with unmistakable pride in her voice.
“Ah...smart and good-looking. A deadly combination.” Her laugh echoed throughout the room. I couldn’t deny it. I wanted to hear more of it. “Okay, gorgeous. Where would you like your tattoo?”
“Somewhere discreet. I don’t think my job would like it if it wasn't and I don’t want my students asking questions.”
Even though her flowing dress covered her figure, I could imagine what she looked like under the billowy fabric. I nodded, taking notes on placement. She was a professional, so I understood her wanting it to be discrete.
“What do you think about your ribs?”
“I’m sure that’s painful.”
She looked at me horrified.
“I won’t lie to you. It’s one of the more painful spots. We can do a placement where it can only be seen when you wear a bikini.”
“I like that idea, even though I haven’t worn a bikini in at least a decade.”
“What a shame.”
I continued to take notes like I didn’t hear her gasp at my comment. I wanted her to know my thoughts without making her uncomfortable or coming across as a pervert.
“Would you like anything else other than the quote?”
I looked up from the sketch pad into chestnut brown eyes swirling with emotion. But she quickly pushed it away and tapped her index finger against her chin.
“I don’t think so. I think the words say enough.”
I scribbled down my final thoughts on Oya’s tattoo, then pulled out my appointment book.
“Let’s see. Since I like you, I’m going to make an exception and pencil you in, as I do for my celebrity clients.”
I flipped through the pages of the thick notebook. Everyone gave me hell for not going digital with my appointment book and notes, but there was something about writing everything down. Even though I was young, call me old school when it came to that.
“Saint, you don’t have to do that.”
I loved the way my name sounded on her lips.
“Not a problem.” I waved away her protest. “The tattoo isn’t complicated. It’ll take less than an hour. “
“If you don’t think it will interfere with your other clients.”
“It won’t. Now, I hope you don’t mind doing a late night because I’m booked until ten most days.”
“No, after ten is fine, only if it’s a weekend or on a Tuesday after five.”
I browsed my appointment book, looking for the best date and time I could manage. Weekends right now would be out of the question because I would be doing runs for the club for the next few weeks. Or I used that time for my larger pieces.
“How about this Tuesday at ten?” I looked up from my appointment book. “My last appointment should be wrapped up by then.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because I can do whatever you need me to do. I know you’re busy.”
Now if she was any other woman, I’d suggest she could ride my cock, or my face, but there was something about Oya. I wasn’t going to be my usual crude self with her.
“I am busy, but you’re worth it. I have you down for Tuesday at ten.” I pulled out a business card from my desk and scribbled my cell number on the back. “Here’s my number. Call me anytime and not just for a tattoo either.”
That pretty blush returned to her gorgeous skin, and at that moment I realized Oya was someone I wanted to know more about.
She had a deceptive innocence for a woman her age which I loved.
But tonight, wasn’t the time. I had Church in the morning and Snake was right, King would have my ass if I was late.
Not that I wasn’t used to him chewing me out for one reason or another, I just hated to have to listen to it.
“Let’s get you back to your friend, so she doesn’t think I was anything less than a gentleman with you.”
She scoffed. “Raquel would cheer you on.”
“Is that so?” I asked as we walked back towards the front. “I’ll have to remember that the next time I see you. I could use her help.”
She looked over her shoulder like she could imagine what I would do to her. Hell, maybe she was imagining all the things she could do to me.
“There you are,” Raquel said before she responded, interrupting our moment.
Raquel’s mischievous smile widened. She wanted Oya to get laid and I was happy to be the one to do it.
“I just wanted to be thorough,” I said, knowing where Raquel’s mind was at.
“I’m sure you did.” Raquel’s eyes moved appreciatively down my body before focusing back on my face. “You should be very thorough. She needs someone to be extra focused on her.”
Oya groaned. “Raquel.”
“What?” Raquel laughed at Oya’s embarrassment. “That’s one fine ass man and you know just as well as I do you could use a good fuck. I’m sure he could give it to you.”
“Oh my god, Raquel!” Oya pushed her friend towards the door. “Sorry, she's drunk.”
I leaned against the receptionist's desk. “I don’t mind.” I winked at her. “I like the way she thinks.”
She blushed. “See you Tuesday, Saint.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, Oya,” I called out, as the door closed behind her.
“Interesting two,” Angel commented, breaking through my thoughts of how I was going to make my move on Oya.
“Hmmm...”
He laughed, slapping me on the shoulder. “She’s so out of your fucking league, my friend,” he said as he exited the shop.
She may be out of my league, but that wouldn’t stop me. I wanted her. And I always got what I wanted.
I locked the front door behind Angel, cut the lights in the waiting area, then headed to the back. I grabbed the sketch pad and killed the lights in the office. I had Church early in the morning, so there was no point driving across town when the clubhouse was two blocks from the shop.
I plodded up the stairs to the loft, my feet so heavy I could hardly walk. I tossed the sketchpad on the drawing table and flopped on the bed. Thoughts of the sophisticated woman filled my head until sleep found me.