Rone
Rone wasn’t sure what he expected when he pictured Heather’s apartment. The place wasn’t great, but it wasn’t a total dive. He’d meant what he said, about living in worse. At least the hallways weren’t littered with dirty needles and it was relatively quiet. No one was beating another person next door or breaking dishes or punching holes through the wall.
The place was small. Just an open concept kitchen that transitioned into a living room. The bedroom door was closed, but he assumed that’s what it was. He carefully kept his mind from thinking about what it looked like, what her bed looked like, what she would look like stretched out naked on it…
He could see it from the seat he took on the couch. The thing was an antique, hard as a rock and uncomfortable as hell, but it fit the overall, quirky personality of the apartment. The décor was eclectic with just about every available wall space covered with art. Oil paintings, vintage and otherwise, dotted the surface. The frames were all different sizes, some square, some oval.
“Where did you get all of those?” He raised a brow as he looked around. He was careful not to lean too far back on the couch, just in case the rounded wood gouged his aching back. The skin always felt pulled as tight as it would go, especially after a long day at work. He wanted to pull off his shirt immediately and feel the cool pressure of Heather’s hands applying some kind of lotion to relieve the burning pain.
She settled on the couch near him, but far enough away that they weren’t in danger of touching. “I shop at thrift stores and garage sales. Mom calls me a junker.”
“Ha. I like that. You always did like garage sales, even as a teenager. Your bedroom was crazy, all different colors, posters everywhere. I remember Leanne complaining about all the holes in the wall. She wanted you to use tack or tape or something that was less destructive.”
“I eventually tried tape. It peeled the paint off. It was way worse.” They both laughed, distilling whatever awkwardness was between them. “I guess I just upgraded over the years. I traded in all my posters for actual art.”
“It’s beautiful. You did a good job. I like all of it.”
“Really? All of it?”
He took another long look at the walls. “I like everything in here. Your furniture is really unique. Even if it is uncomfortable.”
She smiled. “Everyone tells me that. Oh well, I like it anyway.”
“You could use a big comfy oversized chair. The kind that reclines. Although, you don’t have a TV so maybe it wouldn’t serve a purpose.”
“No TV. I have a laptop and a tablet and a phone. I figured that was pretty much overkill and that I didn’t need a TV on top of it all.”
“Makes sense.”
“I usually watch my laptop in my bed, so it’s more comfortable. The couch is just for show I guess.” She blushed at the mention of her bed. Rone shifted uncomfortably on the couch, suddenly over-warm.
“How about one of those nearly expired beers you promised me?”
“Oh. Right. Just sit there, I’ll get you one.” Heather stood and walked quickly to the fridge. Rone couldn’t help but be transfixed by the way she moved. The sway of her hips, her tight ass, the way she bent at the fridge. It was all completely innocent, but she drove him wild with no effort at all on her part.
She came back carrying two cans of beer. He hadn’t even heard of the brand before, but at least it was pale, not the dark stuff that Jay liked to pound back.
“Thanks.” He popped the tab on the beer and took a long sip. It wasn’t bad. At least it quenched his thirst.
Heather set her unopened beer on the coffee table. It was oval with scalloped edges, also antique looking. She had a wicker chair off in the corner with a knitted afghan in a variety of colors thrown over it. Rone was willing to bet money that she had a patchwork quilt of some sort on her bed. As his mind drifted back to her bedroom, his cock stiffened. He’d been fighting a losing battle with his body ever since the day at the pool. He’d waited way too long. He wanted to let her take the lead. He thought she’d never call, that maybe she’d changed her mind.
Now that he was there, in her apartment, he knew she hadn’t. He could see her desire written all over her face, glowing in her eyes.
“So, do you want to take a look at my back? Make sure everything looks like it should? It feels like the skin is pulled so tight that it’s going to crack open. It’s horrible.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” She shuddered. “No matter how many tattoos you get, the healing process always sucks just as much. I think it’s worse than the actual sitting. Let me take a look. It’s probably just dry. Some people say to use lotions, some people say not to. I usually use a natural, unscented lotion. I have a special one I got online that’s made just for tattoos. It has olive oil in it. It’s nice. It smells good too.”
“Anything. Just get the bottle of olive oil from the kitchen. I would literally take anything right now.”
Heather’s soft laughter swirled around him like a gentle hug. “Okay. Let’s have a look.”
She waited while he leaned forward and tried to shrug out of his shirt. He stopped short when he felt the fabric cling to his back. “Oh god. I think it’s stuck. It’s done this for days. I have to go home and get in the shower and soak it off.”
“Are you serious? Okay, that’s definitely not normal. Maybe the first day.”
“Well, I do sweat a lot at work. I’m always moving around and I’ve bumped and scraped it a couple times.”
Heather winced. “I don’t have my back done, but I know that it can be pretty uncomfortable. Let me get a warm wash cloth and we’ll get it off.”
“Or you could just get in the shower with me and soak it off in there.”
“Rone…”
“I’m kidding.”
“No you’re not.” The heat in the room dialed up a thousand degrees. The desire swirling in the air was so thick and palpable it was nearly suffocating.
“I’m not,” he admitted thickly. He slammed back half of his beer. “It would be nice.”
“Can we not just jump to that? I was hoping we could at least have five minutes of conversation. I was going to tell you before, that it’s nice that you like the art on the wall. Some of them are mine.”
“Really?” Rone turned his attention back to the paintings, trying to figure out which ones were hers. It was easy to tell which ones weren’t. They were too antique looking, the colors faded.
“That one is mine.” She pointed to a gnarled, twisted tree rising up towards a full moon.
Rone did a double take. The painting was so amazing he couldn’t believe Heather had done it. He tried to hide his incredulity, but when he turned back to her, she had a knowing half smile on her lips.
“Don’t worry. I know what you’re thinking. I never told you that I liked art or that I could paint. I drew growing up, but no one really knew about that. I kept my sketchbooks pretty low key.”
“Why? You were obviously pretty good.”
“I don’t know. I guess I was just afraid to show anyone in case they judged me about it.”
“Anyone who ever said anything would have just been jealous. That painting is amazing. Which other ones did you do?” Heather pointed to one of a horse in a pasture so detailed that it looked real, a cuter, cartoon version of a cat and a watercolor of a mermaid. “Seriously? Wow. I never knew. You have so much talent. You should do something with them. Sell them or something.” If it was possible, her blush deepened.
“No, that’s alright. I make good money at the shop. I don’t need to sell my art. I think I would miss it, if I did.”
“You should try doing some for sale with the intention of parting with them. Find a craft show or something. Actually, have you ever thought about selling them at the shop? I noticed the guys have some prints for sale when I was there.”
“No. I would never ask Mike or Kian.” Heather looked away for a moment before her eyes came flitting back. “That’s not really what I want to do anyway. I wish- uh-”
“What?”
“No, it’s stupid.”
“Tell me.”
She sighed and her shoulders sank down and stayed that way. “I wish that I could be a tattoo artist. That’s why I applied in the first place. I thought maybe one day it would turn into an apprenticeship.”
“But it hasn’t.”
“No. It hasn’t.”
“Let me guess. No one there knows that you can make art and no one there knows that you’re interested in tattooing. I would also guess you’re pretty good at your job and that probably leads your boss to believe that you’re pretty happy doing it.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way I guess.” When her eyes turned up, it was pretty obvious the conversation was over. He wasn’t sure if she’d do something about her newfound realization or not. It wasn’t really any of his business, though he wanted it to be.
Heather stood slowly. “I’m going to get that cloth, to get your shirt off. My guess is that it’s probably not stuck that bad. It’s likely just crusty in a few spots.”
“That sounds horrible.”
She actually laughed. “You’re right. It does.”
“It’s right up there with the word, ‘moist.’ I just saw something online with people reading the word in creepy ways because people hate it so much.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“At least you’re laughing.”
He watched as she disappeared into the door off to the right of the living room. He hadn’t even noticed it before, but of course it was the bathroom. He knew there had to be one. She came back a minute later with a warm, wet washcloth.
The couch protested when he leaned forward. The springs underneath let out a loud snap. He paused, hoping that he hadn’t ruined anything. Heather didn’t bat an eye. She came and knelt on the couch, which caused another round of groans from the ancient furniture.
“Here we go.” She placed the cloth over his t-shirt and waited a few minutes. Rone held his breath as the warmth from the cloth seeped through his clothing and into his skin. It already felt pretty good. When she lifted the cloth away and tentatively tried his t-shirt, it gave easily.
The thin cotton slid over his head with a whisper. “I can’t promise I’m fresh,” he warned her again. “I haven’t showered since this morning.”
“I thought we had this discussion.”
“Not that I recall.” Her eyes flashed and it was pretty obvious that she’d just been thinking about it. About his scent. The thought was a huge turn on and his cock jumped to life. It was already hard, but having her so close, knowing that she’d been thinking about the smell of him, the raw, more masculine smell, and liking it, made him hard as a rock.
“Let me look at your back,” Heather whispered. She gripped his shoulder easily as she rose up on her knees and peeked over him. The feel of her fingers, warm and light as air, jarred him. He tried to keep himself steady so she wouldn’t know how just the smallest of touches affected him. “It’s pretty much healing as it should be. It does look really dry and I can see that it’s going to start to peel soon. That’s probably why it feels so uncomfortable. I can get that lotion I was talking about.”
She was gone so quickly that Rone barely had time to prepare for those hands on him again when she came back. She leaned in and he could smell her sweet perfume. He couldn’t peg what it was exactly, but it reminded him of the air right after it rained, that clean, fresh scent. She smeared goo onto his shoulders and his entire body tensed. He was caught between feeling good and feeling really good. The balm was a relief to his aching back, but it wasn’t long before he forgot all about his back and started to focus on Heather’s delicate hands. God, he loved when she touched him. She was so careful and gentle. He imagined her massaging the rest of his body, which of course, ended up with him imagining how she’d look with his cock in her hand as she pleasured him.
He jerked so violently, Heather was nearly thrown off the couch beside him. She pulled away, staring at him. The surprised glint in her eyes changed to a knowing gleam. She backed slowly away and took her seat on the other end of the couch. She rubbed her hands together, working in the extra lotion. She didn’t look at him as she snatched up her beer, cracked the tab with a pop that echoed in the quiet room and took a sip.
“Thanks,” he mumbled.
“Did you book your next sitting with Mike when you were there?”
“You probably know that I didn’t, since you have the appointment book.” She smiled and those glorious eyes finally swept back to his face.
“You’re right. I know you didn’t. Are you going to?”
“I would be fine if it was a few months away. No line jumping this time.”
“I bet. The back is rough. That and hands. I think they hurt a lot too when they’re healing. Although, I’ve had spots, like on the underside of my arm, that really hurt. They hurt for weeks and I know what you mean when you said you feel like the skin is going to burst open it’s so tight.”
Rone nodded. Silence settled between them and he searched for something to say. He blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I went and had drinks with Jay right after I got it done.” Heather visibly stiffened. Her hand froze half way to her mouth, the beer forgotten.
“Really? Did you say anything? Did he ask where you got it done?”
“No. He actually didn’t. He was too busy making fun of me for finally just manning up and joining the club. I kept changing the subject and then we were talking about old times. He was pretty buzzed. It was easy to get him talking about himself.”
Heather wrinkled her nose. “Let me guess, he was talking about the latest girl he dated. She was probably blonde and looked like a model.”
“That’s a pretty accurate guess.” Frighteningly uncanny, though he wouldn’t exactly call it dating.
“I just know my brother.” Her eyes flitted about the room. “Did you- uh- god, I’ve been so worried he’d find out somehow that- what- well- what happened at your house.”
“I don’t like feeling like I’m going behind his back. I felt guilty about not being overly truthful, but I would never have given us away. He’s never going to find out, Heather.”
“Like we said before, maybe we can just tell him eventually, when the time is right. That is…” her voice trailed off and when she finished, it was so small he could barely hear her. “If you don’t think that what we did was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” He choked. He wished he had a sip left in his beer to wet his dry throat. Heather, anticipating his needs as though they were her own, handed hers over. He took it and slammed back almost the entire can.
“I’ll take that as a no then.”
“No, of course I don’t think it was a mistake.”
“I just wish that this- that this didn’t have to be so… awkward. We’ve both wanted this for so long and I just feel like we have to hold back-”
Rone reached out and gently touched Heather’s cheek. She looked at him like she wanted to pull away, but she didn’t. “It doesn’t have to be that way. I promise, everything will work out.”
“You have more faith than I do then.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just work hard to see that it does. I told you before, but I’ll promise you again, I’m never going to hurt you.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“I’m never going to let anyone else hurt you either. This is us. We’ve waited long enough.” Heather blinked hard. Her eyes were wide and luminous.
“Maybe you should go. This is just moving too fast. I wanted to take it slow and I can’t do that with you around. You’re too damn tempting.”
Rone knew what she was talking about. Just the feel of her skin under his fingertips was enough to send him into a tailspin. His control felt like a string drawn too tight. He knew it would snap at any second.
“Is that what you want? I’ll go if you truly want me to.”
“I think maybe it’s best.”
“When can I see you again?”
“I don’t know,” Heather sighed. “We’ll have to figure it out. I don’t even know what we’re doing. This just came out of nowhere. I’m still kind of in shock from it all.”
Rone knew what she was talking about, but he still wanted to groan in frustration. The last thing he wanted was to rush her, but at the moment he felt like he was dying.
“Maybe I should go and talk to Jay and try and make him understand. Then we wouldn’t have to feel like we were doing something wrong or sneaking around or something.”
“I don’t know. I think that would just end up in an ass kicking.”
“What are we going to do then? If we can’t ever talk to Jay, we are just going to keep feeling guilty and it’s going to ruin us before we even get a chance to start.”
Rone removed his hand from her face. He shifted away before he stood. He grabbed up his wet t-shirt, but made no move to put it on. He didn’t fail to notice how Heather’s scorching gaze swept over him. He’d never wanted another person more in his life, or met someone who wanted him with an equal ferocity. It made it all the more frustrating. He knew they would be good together.
“It’s okay. I’ll just go. Maybe it’s best if we don’t do this. For both of us. Maybe you were right, that too many people would get hurt. I don’t want to ruin my friendship. Jay and I promised each other we’d be brothers for life. That we’d have each other’s backs. This is definitely not having it.”
He made it as far as the door, t-shirt still in hand, before a small hand closed around his arm. He whirled and found Heather there, eyes wild, blazing with unbridled passion. Her shoulders heaved with breaths that were suddenly raspy, as though in the span of a few seconds she’d just done some crazy workout.
“Please don’t go. It might be better if you leave, but I don’t want you to.”
His t-shirt fell from his hand and hit the ground silently. “What do you want, Heather? Really?”
“You know what I want.”
“That isn’t taking it slow.” I might not make it out of this alive.
“The truth is, I don’t want to take it slow. I know what I should do. I know how this should be, if we’re going to do this. The more rational part of me knows all these things. I’m done listening to them though. What do I really want? I want you to stay. The night.”
Those words were everything he’d been waiting a lifetime to hear. He couldn’t even make himself form words. All he could get out was a low growl. When his hand reached for the door again, it wasn’t for the handle, but the lock, which slid into place with a loud click that echoed through the apartment.