Not only had I been making every effort to avoid women I found attractive or tempting, if for some reason I encountered one, it seemed I had been running the other direction. Since I decided they were as much as a problem to me as crack cocaine, I felt it my duty to separate myself from them as quickly as possible. Riley, however, caused me to lower my fists and slowly but curiously walk in her direction.

I had no idea how to pinpoint what it was about her that allowed me to place her in a different category altogether, but it really didn’t matter. For whatever reason, my mind decided she was safe for me. Any other woman with her looks, personality, and sense of right and wrong would have long since had my cock between her legs and my hand on the back of her head after the second tattoo. She, on the other hand, seemed to be protected from my sexual advances.

After considerable thought, I decided she had to be special in ways and manners that I wasn’t even able to see or even identify. The fact she could share time and space with me, and I wasn’t attempting to move forward sexually proved to me she was truly deserving of whatever I was able to offer her beyond sex. In my opinion, she was entitled to learn things about me that no other woman had, and I was eager to share myself with her.

Slowly, but without much real resistance, Tyler was beginning to understand my placement of Riley.

“So, you’re trying to tell me you don’t even want to fuck her?” he asked.

“You’re so fucking stubborn sometimes. I’m not trying to tell you anything. I’ve told you. Over and fucking over, Dude. No, I don’t want to fuck her. I mean I think about it, and yeah, I’d like to fuck her, but not like fuck her fuck her. Maybe one day, but not now. You know, if we ended up in a real relationship, yeah. But not now, no. Make sense?” I asked.

“Makes sense, just hard to believe,” he responded.

I continued to separate my needles by size, placing them in their respective compartments as I did inventory. After a moment of thinking, I continued speaking to him over my shoulder.

“You know, I think sometimes life, like, puts shit in front of us that we can use to make progress toward a personal perceived perfection as long as we’re smart enough to recognize it as being what it is,” I said.

“What in the holy fucking hell did that mean? That sounded like some fucking twelve step triple ‘p’ horseshit right there. Personal perceived perfection,” he said.

“Fuck you. Just listen. You’re getting up and going to work, and doing your deal every day, say, just like me. And you fuck every chick you can. Hell, you even make it a point to try and fuck the ones that don’t want to fuck, just to see if you can. Fucking the chick at the gas station who works the register. Fucking the chick at the bar who works the late Tuesday shift. Fucking the meth head that wants a tattoo, but can’t save the money. Then, one day, you realize you’ve got a serious problem. So, you try and abstain. You know, go without sex or whatever. And then some hot as fuck bitch comes in for a tattoo. I mean normally I’d have been all over her, but for some reason I wasn’t.”

I paused and turned to face him.

“And the reason is that she’s different. She’s actually like the answer to my problems. She’s like an AA meeting for a drunk, only in human form. Being around her makes me not even want to think about other woman. So, she’s been put in front of me as a resource or a solution. And it was my recognizing her as being just that that has allowed me to make progress toward actually recovering. It’s like I don’t even have a problem anymore,” I said.

“You’re fucking cured?” he coughed.

“No, asshole, not cured. But not actively pursuing other women. It’s a huge step in the right direction,” I said.

“Suppose so,” he agreed.

“So, what did you tell her about yourself? Were you honest?” he asked.

I glanced up from my drawer and nodded my head. “Yeah.”

“Completely?” he asked.

“Yeah, completely,” I responded.

“Doubt that,” he said sarcastically.

“Tell her you were a cop?” he asked.

I nodded my head.

He began to laugh hysterically. After what seemed to be an eternity of breathless laughter, he stumbled to the bathroom. After a few minutes, he came out; no longer laughing, but coughing and trying to catch his breath.

“What?” I asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Dude, I’m happy for you. Keep doing what you’re doing. But one of these days, you’ll have to tell her everything, you know that, right?” he asked.

“I will,” I said as I pushed the drawer closed.

“No, I mean everything. And be truthful,” he said.

I nodded my head again, “See? I’m not even getting upset. It doesn’t bother me that you’re saying that. Know why? Because I’m comfortable with everything. Don’t worry, as soon as I feel like I can trust her one hundred percent, I’ll tell her everything.”

“Everything?” he asked.

I nodded my head, “Everything.”

The sound of the front buzzer caused me to shift my eyes away from Tyler and toward the door. A thirty-something year old MILF with big fake tits came through the door wearing a pair of Daisy Dukes and a wife beater. After swallowing heavily and craning my neck to see her feet, I was shocked and slightly worried that she had extremely thin toes. I quickly turned to face Tyler and winked.

“I’ll get this one,” I said.

He ran his finger through his thick hair and grinned.

“Seriously? Did you see her toes?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Dude, you’re a sucker for thin toes like that, leave her alone. Let me get her,” he said.

I shook my head and took a step in her direction.

“You’re serious?” he asked.

“Yeah, to prove a point. Just watch,” I said as I turned her direction.

“How can I help you?” I asked as I walked up to the counter that separated the shop from the waiting area.

Now that I was standing directly in front of her, it was pretty obvious she was wearing no bra, nor did she need to. Whoever had performed her augmentation had shoved her tits so full of silicone that the defied the laws of physics and they stood straight up, one nipple directly in the center, and one slightly higher and to her right. As much as I didn’t care, my obsessive nature caused me to want to tweak her nipples into their correct locations.

“Hi, I’m Candee, but my friends call me Diamond. I’m a friend of Sandy’s. She said I should ask for Blake, are you Blake?” she asked.

Sandy was a single mother who had come in early in the previous winter, wanting a complete back piece done. If I was giving a quote for the tattoo she had requested, it would have been the upside of $2,000, but she negotiated getting it free of charge.

I nodded my head. “Sure am. What can I do for you?”

“Well…” she said.

Roughly thirty blowjobs, a dozen or so good solid fuckings, and an afternoon of fucking Tyler and me simultaneously, she paid for her tattoo, and the three of us were pleased with everything. Since completing the tattoo, I hadn’t seen her, but that was typical for the women who chose to trade sex for tattoos. It seemed after it was all over, most of them felt like nothing but a whore, and were embarrassed about what they had chosen to do.

I wondered how many of them regretted it later, as I would expect every time they looked at the tattoo, it would act as a reminder of their willingness to trade their bodies for sex.

“I was thinking about getting a back piece, one almost exactly like Sandy’s,” she said as she twisted her hips from side to side.

“Oh really?” I asked.

“Yeah, but maybe like a big dragon instead of the peacock she got. But the same size and everything,” she said.

“I see. It’d be a pretty intricate piece. It could be free-handed, and I could start on it today, or I could draw something up and see what you thought about it, maybe make an appointment for this weekend. Turn around and let me see the width of your back,” I said.

She turned around, hooked her thumbs in the pockets of her shorts, and bent slightly at the waist. There was no doubt she was attractive, and in her altered state she was built for one thing and one thing only: fucking. My interest, however, remained solely with Riley. After a quick study of her back, I asked her to turn around.

“You have any scars, birthmarks, or imperfections on your back?” I asked.

She turned her head, peered over her shoulder toward the window. After feeling satisfied no one was passing by, she reached down and pulled off her shirt in one quick yank. Her two cantaloupe sized tits held firm and high on her size two frame. Her nipples looked much worse in the flesh than they did hidden by the thin fabric of her shirt.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” she said as she slowly turned around.

“You wanting to suck a little cock and maybe give up that little pussy for this tat?” I asked flatly.

She peered over her shoulder. “I’d like to.”

“Tyler,” I hollered, “This one’s for you.”

As he hurried toward the front of the shop, I turned away and got my cigarettes. Instead of walking past them again and being forced to see her dumb naked self again, I walked out the back door, sat down on my motorcycle, and lit a cigarette.

Halfway through the cigarette, I took my phone from my front pocket, scrolled to Riley’s number, and typed a simple text.

Thinking of you

After reading and rereading it a few times, I decided it was perfect.

I pressed send, grinned at the thought of her reading it, and wondered what would go through her mind when she did. It was actually the first text message I had sent her, and my first step toward anything with her that was beyond total professionalism. As I pushed the phone into my pocket, it beeped.

I bit the butt of the cigarette in my teeth, pulled the phone from my pocket and opened the text message.

I’ve never stopped

Reading the text caused me to smile from ear to ear. The thought of her thinking of me provided me with an odd sense of satisfaction that everything I was feeling wasn’t all for not. As I pursed my lips around the cigarette and inhaled a long drag, I pressed the buttons on the screen.

Coffee?

I pressed send, flicked the cigarette butt into the alley, and exhaled the smoke into the humid evening air. Before the smoke dissipated, the phone beeped again.

Thought you’d never ask

I quickly typed my next message.

Pick you up on the bike?

The response was immediate.

Can’t wait 12721 Birchwood. When?

I gazed at the back door and thought of Tyler and the MILF with off centered nipples.

Now?

I pressed send.

Her response caused me to once again grin from ear to ear.

I’ll be sitting on the porch waiting

I turned on the key, started the motor, and allowed it to warm up to temperature before pulling out of the alley. As I rode past the front of the shop, I slowed to an almost stop and peered inside. Although the blinds were pulled, the east blind wasn’t shut completely. The shadows were clear, at least to me, but I knew what I was looking for.

Candee Diamond was bent over Tyler’s chair, and he was behind her fucking her like a mad man. I turned to face the street ahead of me and prepared to accelerate. I realized the further away from that nasty bitch I could make myself, the better off I would be. As I gripped the throttle, I couldn’t help myself. Similar to passing a terrible accident on the highway, I had to take one last look.

As Tyler continued to pound away he glanced in my direction. Realizing the sound of my exhaust must have gathered his attention, I raised my left hand and waved. He released her hip, raised his right hand, and waved in return. Slightly humored, but even more disgusted, I twisted back on the throttle with my right hand and separated myself from him and Candee as quickly as I was able.

As I rode up the street, my only focus was Tyler’s having traded sex for the tattoo. The ride to Riley’s house was about ten miles, and took almost twenty minutes in traffic. The entire trip, the MILF being in the shop bothered me. In considering my life’s concerns, I realized changing things would only come from making a change within me.

I pulled up in front of her house and she was right where she said she would be, sitting on the porch in her jean shorts, Chuck’s, and a worn tee shirt.

As I watched her stand and walk my direction, I decided I would implement a new company policy starting the next day.

Blurred Lines would be a cash only establishment. Trading sex for tattoos would be a thing of the past.

Even for Tyler.