Page 23 of Four Tattoos

17

ROSE

Ithought I was preoccupied with thoughts of the men before, but it turns out I didn’t even know what preoccupation was.

They’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up the next morning, and they’re with me as I get dressed, as I wonder what they’ll think of my outfit, and if they have a preference for how I style my hair.

Different parts of my body hold their own memories—all of them very good memories. I swear I can still feel their hands gripping my flesh, their lips brushing over my skin, their long, hard cocks exploring new territory deep inside me.

It seems that not a minute passes that I’m not looking forward to seeing the men today for their coffee delivery, assuming that they do order coffee. They don’t order every day, and I also have worries that things will be different between us, now that we’ve had sex. Maybe that’s all they wanted. It happens all the time; it happened to me in college, and I’ve heard plenty of stories from friends about eager men who suddenly lose interest once they get what they want.

I don’t want to think that these men would be that way, especially not Hutch or Christian, but I also try to brace myself for the worst. I won’t regret last night, no matter what.

It’s silly how much I’m thinking about them, when this can’t be anything more than a bit of fun. I need to remind myself to keep it all in perspective so I don’t get hurt.

Despite how wonderful last night was, there’s no prospect of anything long term. I’m not even a part of their world; they’re so much older, and nothing like men I’ve considered to be my type, though now I’m wondering if I ever knew what my type is.

Anyway, it’s just physical; nothing more. Physical, like the way my heart speeds up when their order comes in at the coffee shop.

Finally.Their order is right on time, but I’ve been waiting for it since I first arrived at work.

I get their items together, knowing whose drink is whose, and thinking of each man as I stick the cups in the carrier. There are also cookies for Zipper, and a couple of muffins, which I bag up, and then I’m on my way.

Excitement prevails on my drive over, but nervousness takes over when I get to the shop and see their empty lobby. Tattoo guns buzz away, amazingly still audible over the raucous beats of “Volcano Girls” by Veruca Salt.

I get a flashback to my first time in the shop, and worry that the men will go back to their unwelcoming ways—well, Hutch was welcoming that first day, but the others weren’t, and maybe now they’re going to go back to semi-ignoring me. I had such a strong afterglow last night that it didn’t occur to me how bad it looked that I had to rush out on them. Surely, they’d rather be with an older woman, not one who has to rush home to report to her brother.

Suddenly, Hutch is coming toward me, and I release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. When Mace follows him out, my shoulders relax.

“Rose, how are you doing?” Hutch’s eyes are filled with warmth.

“I’m good.” So much better now.

“I wanted to text you last night to make sure you got home okay, but I don’t have your number,” Hutch says. His brows are lifted, the question implicit, and I hesitate for a beat. Giving him my number creates another connection between us, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing, not with all of the reasons we can’t have a long-term connection.

But I agree, because there’s no real reason to say no, and we exchange contact information. I do the same with Mace, and then with Christian and Zipper, after they come out accompanied by clients who render payment at the counter and leave the shop.

“Anybody else here?” I ask, wondering if Hutch or Mace need to get back to their stalls.

Hutch shakes his head. “Just the five of us.”

Mace takes a drink of his coffee, then turns his full focus to me. “Have any plans tonight?”

Again, I hesitate. I’d been so excited, and also so anxious, about seeing the men today that I didn’t prepare myself to respond to another invitation. Of course, I want to be with them again, but there are reasons I shouldn’t, chief among them the way I basically obsessed over them all day. If I formed that kind of attachment after one night, how much worse off would I be after two?

But it’s Mace asking, and that takes me by surprise, too, since Christian and Hutch have been the initiators.

“What do you have in mind?”

He’s leaning against a wall, one hand in his pocket, looking impossibly sexy. “I’d like to take you for a ride on my bike.”

Oh.I didn’t even know he rode a motorcycle, and apparently, he’s inviting me out for a one-on-one activity. I look around at the other men, wondering if they’ll have a problem with this proposition, but they simply look curious about what my response will be.

I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle, and the idea of sitting behind Mace with my arms wrapped around him is very enticing. “I have to work tonight, but that sounds like fun.”

“When are you available?”

I name my next night off, and Mace says that will work. “Can I pick you up at your house?” he asks.

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