Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 23974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
“You know, this will be the first year he doesn’t bring a date to the party. Or at least, if he is, he hasn’t told us yet. Hoochie mamas, Zoe! That’s all he ever dates. He has a thing for bimbos that get all excited at the sight of a motorcycle and tattoos. Could you imagine if he started smoking? These girls would be dropping dead at his feet. I don’t get it. I mean, sure Dane can be cool sometimes. But I just don’t see the allure.”
I do. I would drop dead at Dane’s feet for just one date with him. I understand the allure plenty well. But it sounds like I have some stiff competition.
“So, you haven’t liked any of your brother’s girlfriends? Even once you got past the initial hoochie mama first impression?” I ask.
Patty shrugs.
“They never last long enough to find out what’s beneath the Daisy Dukes and tiny tank-tops. And the fake boobs, too, whoo-wee! I wonder how he doesn’t bounce off of them when they’re in bed. I’m telling you, Dane is nothing but a man-whore.”
I grimace internally, even as I try to smile. Thankfully, Mr. Reston’s disappeared, so he’s not hearing this, but I wish I could be one of those hoochie mamas. I have the figure because I’ve got huge breasts and an enormous ass, but I’m way too shy to wear short shorts or any kind of revealing top. It’s just too risky. My ta-tas could burst out at any second, and I’d be humiliated for life.
But is that what Dane likes? Maybe I should wear a scandalous outfit to the party, just to see if I can get his attention. Would he notice, even? I flush at this thought and reprimand myself. I’m Dane’s little sister’s friend, and he’s known me for ages. He’s never given a single hint that I’m anything other than an invisible girl who sometimes tags along.
“Well, I’m looking forward to the party,” I say with a weak smile. “Hoochie mamas or no hoochie mamas.”
Patty rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue at me.
“Yeah! We’ll see,” she says. “I just hope they don’t end up having sex somewhere in the house while the party’s going on.”
I gasp, looking to see if her parents are around.
“Don’t worry about it,” my friend reassures me. “My parents are so clueless, they’d never pick up on it.”
“But is it true?” I ask, my eyes wide. “Dane was having sex with his girlfriends during your parents’ annual party?”
Patty nods, yawning a little.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. I mean, I definitely heard some loud banging noises coming from his bedroom, as well as some high-pitched squeals. Let me tell you, those hoochie-mamas can scream.”
I bite my lip as my cheeks flush, a tingle running through my pussy. Oh my god, what would it be like to be one of those women? Dane Reston moving above me, pistoning into me, his blue eyes glowing as he makes me moan? If only I could be so lucky.
2
Dane
I went by my parents’ house today to pick up some old art supplies. It was just some expired stuff, but I remembered a gold ink that I had, and wanted to see if the manufacturer still makes it with the same ingredients. Tattooing is an art, and there are technological innovations in my space, as there are in any industry. The formulation of newer, non-toxic inks is a big step forward, and I’m at the edge of that curve.
But first and foremost, I consider myself an artist. Graphic novels used to be my thing, and I tried my hand at cartoons. They were great, but it didn’t have the intense connection a tattoo artist has with his or her customer. Then, when I got my first tattoo at fifteen, my addiction was born. Not only did I begin to indulge in body art, but I also began to learn the craft. Now, I work at High Voltage Tattoo, a downtown shop with a devoted clientele and hardcore reputation. It works for me. The tough, gritty exterior is a mask for the incredible artistry that goes on inside.
But today, I’m having difficulty focusing. I went home this weekend to pick up some stuff, and got sidetracked. Not by my sister, Patty, but by her friend, Zoe. Normally this would be no big deal because Zoe’s been coming around for years. She and Patty are practically bonded at the hip, but I never paid her much mind.
Last weekend was different though because little Zoe is all grown up now. Shit. I almost didn’t recognize her, but when she opened her mouth and said hello, my heart dropped and something else started hardening because where did this woman come from? Zoe is no longer a shy, skinny child with freckles and carroty-brown hair. Instead, she’s a voluptuous woman with creamy skin, big breasts, and chestnut curls waving down her back.