“You could always sell your shoe collection if we’re down on our luck. We could probably buy a mansion with the money.”
I was partially to blame for her monster shoe collection. I’d added more pairs to her closet than I cared to admit. But our agreement was I got to see them on her first, and she wasn’t allowed to wear anything else at the time.
She slapped my shoulder as we started down the staircase. “I would never part with my shoes. They’re too important.”
“So is survival,” I reminded her.
“Shoes are my lifeblood.”
I rolled my eyes as I opened the car door for her and pushed her up against the frame. “I love them wrapped around my waist when I’m fuckin’ ya, but they aren’t that important, doll.”
“That’s like saying blow jobs aren’t important.” She leaned forward, bringing her lips near mine. “Could you do without?”
“There’s nothing sweeter than your mouth.”
“That’s how I feel about my shoes.” She smirked.
“You’re supposed to feel that way about my cock, Izzy.”
She slipped under my arms, sliding into the seat of the car. “I’ll always feel that way about your cock, but you’ve never said…” She pursed her lips and tilted her head. “‘Izzy, you’ve had too much cock. You may want to stop enjoying it so much.’”
She had me there. I didn’t have a good comeback when she put it that way. “Point taken,” I said, closing her inside before rounding the hood.
We had a five-hour drive back home, and if I was lucky, she’d lean across the console and take my cock in her mouth while wearing her sexy, overpriced shoes. Soon we’d be back to reality with our boys and their ultimate cockblocking skills.
Izzy
Inked ranlike a well-oiled machine after fifteen years in business. What started out as fun became one of the most popular places to get a tattoo in the Tampa Bay area. No longer did we sit around waiting for people to walk through the door. Now we were booked over a month out and had a waiting list of clients wanting to be tattooed.
Mike still handled the books and was the same anal-retentive asshole he’d always been about it. His newest thing was a team meeting every Thursday before the clients poured through the doors.
“So, in closing…” Mike paced around the room as everyone played on their phones and ignored him like always. “We should think about bringing on two new artists and another piercer to handle walk-ins.”
There was a collective groan, but he finally had our attention.
“I vote nay,” Anthony said with his feet kicked up and his face buried in whatever nonsense he was playing on his cell.
Mike stared up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “Why?”
He had to expect us not to agree with bringing in a stranger. He’d brought up adding more people to the shop before, and we’d always said no. We liked our dynamic and didn’t want some young, overeager twentysomething coming in and trying to change everything.
“Just nope,” Anthony said, probably to set Mike off.
“I’m good with whatever.” I stayed impartial because, at this point, I could use a few more days off here and there, and help sounded kind of nice.
“What?” Anthony finally looked up, giving me an icy glare.
Sometimes, I wanted to take his phone and jam it up his ass. He was so busy chatting with Max or playing games that half the time he was mute when he was around.
“We could use some help around the shop. Maybe we could actually take more time off since we’re getting older, and we wouldn’t have to be short-handed on those days.” I climbed out of the chair and started to prep my station for the first client of the morning. “Plus, more artists means more clients, which means more money.”
“We don’t need the money,” Anthony replied.
“We don’t, and we don’t need to work either. Wouldn’t it be nice to take a day off and not feel like we’re shafting the others?” Joe answered for me, knowing exactly how I felt.
“I don’t want to be working every day when I’m sixty, man. Inked eventually needs to have fresh blood, or we’ll end up closing the doors someday.”
I hadn’t thought about that. I assumed someday our children would take it over, but maybe that wouldn’t happen. We needed a backup plan just in case they wanted to branch out on their own and not follow in the footsteps of their parents.
