“Do it today,” he says. “You’re inventive. I’m sure you can come up with a good excuse to go to the tattoo shop. Call me when the bug is in place and the tapes are rolling.”

I blow out a long breath.

Might as well get this over with. The bugs will have to be placed sooner or later anyway. No point in dragging this out.

“I’m on it,” I say.

Chapter Eight

Sam

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It’s almost noon and I’ve already finished two tattoo jobs. Business is going great these days. Once word got around town that I specialize in tattoos for women, I got all the customers I can reasonably handle.

Jesse comes in several times a week to help me with the overload and to take care of our finances. He is more comfortable doing the simpler tattoos and prefers to leave the bigger, artistic masterpieces to me. Trish balked at the thought of Jesse doing tattoos for female customers, so now I take them all. If a customer wants a skull tattoo, they go to Jesse. If they want a cute little butterfly on their ass, they come to me.

My last customer of the morning, a cute blonde in shorts and pink tank top, didn’t want to leave after I finished a flower tattoo high on her inner thigh. It's a recurring problem that I encounter quite often. Over the years, I’ve learned how to say ‘no’ while at the same time letting the women think I’m saying ‘maybe later.' No feelings get hurt, everyone leaves happy, and I have a return customer. I practically had to drag her to the front door and politely push her outside.

The bell on the front door jingles. I look up from my desk where I’m hand-drawing an intricate tattoo for a special customer. Lila steps inside carrying a bag of takeout food. She’s stunning in a short white sundress and high-heeled sandals. Her hair is pulled up on one side with a clip. Gold hoop earrings dangle from her ears.

This is the first time I’ve seen her in a dress, and I’m floored. My cock begins to stir before the door shuts behind her. Dropping my pencil, I hurry over and lean down to kiss her softly on the lips.

She draws back in surprise and then gives me what sure as hell feels like a genuine pleased smile.

“Wow,” I say. “You just made my day, beautiful lady. What’s the occasion? And why are you dressed up? You look fantastic by the way.”

“No special reason,” she says. “Except that I felt kind of bad about telling you to get up early this morning and leave before breakfast. I didn’t mean that you had to disappear before daylight. What time did you leave?”