Page 8 of Ink Me Bunny

The sight makes my skin prickle with excitement.

The tense air suddenly shifts to a wired-up wave of pent-up frustration after months of talking to her, I finally see her face to face and it strikes me.

She’s mute right now but I know her dirty little secrets and a fantasy or two.

Dean Walker: Bad day at work?

Lennon Quinn: REALLY BAD!

Dean Walker: Then get it all out!

Lennon Quinn: What do you mean?

Dean Walker: SON OF A BITCH! GODDAMIT!

Lennon Quinn: MOTHERFUCKER! SOCIOPATH! PRETENDS TO KNOW IT ALL—ASSHOLE—WITH A LIMP DICK—BURN IN THE PITS OF HELL!

Dean Walker: Good job!

Lennon Quinn: I feel better now!

Dean Walker: Now, who do I need to kill? *wink emoji*

Lennon Quinn: He can suffer in his existence that would be enough.

Dean Walker: Bad client?

Lennon Quinn: The worst.

Dean Walker: What would make you feel better?

Lennon Quinn: My toys.

Dean Walker: Which one?

Lennon Quinn: It’s a mix. Butt plug and a vibrator that has suction too and it can heat up which is such a wonderful feeling. And I pretend someone is degrading me.

Dean Walker: You wild!

Lennon Quinn: I like experimenting.

Dean Walker: Have fun! And sleep well, Lenny.

“It’s me, Lenny. You talked to me for months and had no problem.” I say calmly. “You want to imprint your art on your clients the best you can so they’ll leave with a smile on their face. You did it before on others, I’m no different.”

She looks to the walls and back to my sketching area next to my desk, where I hang all my ideas—specifically, my lighthouse sketches which are kind of an obsession, I don’t know why.

“Do you have something in mind?”

Turning her head back at me with a smile, she nods, “Yes.”

“Good g—“

Fuck no!

That one was on the tip of my tongue.

I clear my voice, “Good, now proceed to work on your design.” I ease up on the bed.

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