Page 9 of Positively Inked

“Maybe,” Lyra comments, standing up, “Maybe then we can talk about whatever it is you wanted to talk about.”

She walks away from me and I exhale audibly. Why do people overcomplicate things? I just don’t get it. I go back to my booth and get my phone, shooting a text to Rebecca to ask her to babysit Heather until ten, just to be safe. It’s going to cost me, but I have a feeling if I don’t do this, shit will be awkward tomorrow. I hope no one thinks I’m going to buddy up to them tonight. I’m staying for a few drinks and I’m out of here, I don’t care what they say.

The day passes on and soon enough Lyra is flipping the sign on the door to say we’re closed before she locks it. She pulls the curtains over the windows and door so no one from outside can see that we’re partying inside; although once Diesel cranks the music on his docking station, it wouldn’t be hard for anyone outside to guess what was going on.

Lacy starts passing around drinks; she has a large variety which I find surprising. I go through what she bought and pour myself a whiskey, neat. It’s always my drink of choice. It isn’t the caliber of whiskey I’m used to, but it’ll do. I sit down and sip on it as everyone stands around, bopping to the music, awkward about what to talk about. People wonder why I hate social situations, it’s because this happens.

Soon enough though Lacy’s extroverted personality takes over and she starts regaling tales of hilarious clients and tattoos she has had to do during her career, and it spurs everyone into telling their own stories. I just pour another whiskey and listen to them talking about it. I’m not really interested.

I notice neither is Lyra. She is sitting off to the side as well, not contributing. Simply watching the events unfold. I wonder why? She doesn’t seem like the introverted type.

I pour another whiskey, and then another, drinking each one faster than the one before. The alcohol loosens me up and makes me feel more relaxed. I still don’t participate, especially as the other artists get more and more drunk. I watch as Lyra starts participating in the conversation, although all she mostly does is giggle. The alcohol is affecting me, I can feel it. There’s a warmth in my stomach, in my chest, and in my groin. I can’t help but smile as I watch Lyra giggle; it’s like her giggles are infectious. I lick my lips and smack them, downing another whiskey, this time pouring a double, or have I been pouring doubles the entire time? I can’t be sure.

Diesel is the first to leave. He catches a taxi home because he’s too drunk to drive his motorbike. Becca drags Lacy out not too long after that when Lacy almost tumbles over the reception area. That made me chuckle. Tintin and Sheldon leave together as well, and Cindy, myself, and Lyra are left. I get up to leave when Cindy says she’s going to go, saying goodbye quietly to both of us before exiting and shutting the door behind her.

I stand there, sway there, for a few seconds before I start to head to the door. I don’t know how I’m going to cycle home in one piece, but I’m sure as hell brave enough to try.

I reach the door and turn around to say bye to Lyra, who is still giggling softly, when I see her cleaning up the mess everyone has left. I frown to myself, now that isn’t right. I stumble back into the studio and go to help her.

“You don’t have to,” she says, swaying slightly herself.

I smile at her, “It’s okay, I don’t mind. Two hands are better than three and all that.” Am I slurring?

She giggles again and it sounds magical.

We both bend down to pick up an empty can and bump into each other. I chuckle, she giggles, and we do it again, bumping into each other again. I chuckle louder, she giggles louder.

“You get it,” I say and she shakes her head.

“No you get it, it’s fine.”

We both bend quickly to grab it and land up bumping into each other so hard we fall to the floor. We look at each other for a split second before bursting out laughing. I don’t know what’s funny, but dammit it’s hurting my stomach.

Lyra smiles and looks at me, her green eyes alight with mischief. “I can’t get up,” she admits.

“Here,” I hold my hands out, “We’ll pull each other up.”

She takes my hands and with some effort, and a few laughs, we manage to pull each other up and against each other. When I look down at her I can feel the fire in my stomach burning hotter. I reach up and brush a loose strand of her hair out of her face and she blushes lightly.

That damn blush.

I lower my head slightly, not sure what I should do, but she decides for both of us by closing the gap and pressing her lips firmly against mine. I snake my arms around her body and pull her flush against me; I realise I have a hard on but I have no idea when that happened. The alcohol is making my brain swim.

She groans into my mouth as our tongues slide over each other. She withdraws her tongue slowly and mine chases hers, when all of a sudden she sucks my tongue into her mouth, sucking on it long and hard. Goddammit, when did it get so hot?

I slide my hands up her sides and stroke her breasts softly before I take them in my hands. I can feel her hard nipples through the fabric of her shirt and I realise she isn’t wearing a bra, or if she is, it’s a pretty thin one. It makes me groan softly as my thumbs play with her nipples, rubbing over them with enough pressure to tease her. We’re massaging each other’s tongues again and I can feel her hands on my belt. I break the kiss to whisper, “Lyra…”

“We shouldn’t,” she murmurs against my lips before she kisses me again, more intensely. I pick her up and lay her on the bench in her booth, stepping back to undo my pants and pull them down, my dick springing up in excitement. While I’m busy, I watch Lyra shimmy her pants down and kick them off. I’m stroking my dick while she shimmies out of her panties and tosses them to the side. She spreads her legs and I bite my lips. It’s been so long since I’ve had sex I want to cum now.

I straddle the bench and lift her legs so she can hug them around me. I move my hips slowly up and down, letting the wet tip of my cock tease her pussy, spreading her lips apart. When I can’t take it anymore, I slowly push into her, letting her engulf me inch by inch. The gasp it elicits from her mouth is orgasmic on its own, and I start moving my hips slowly, enjoying the feeling of her warmth around my erection.

I push her top up; she’s wearing a thin sports bra and I pull that down so her breasts pop out over it. I lick my lips as I reach forward and pinch her nipples lightly, getting an exciting gasp of pleasure from her. I pull them softly and then simply roll them between my fingers. My hips start moving faster on their own and it feels as though a pressure is building up inside of me.

I haven’t felt this intense in a long time, not even towards the end with Bernadine. Fuck, I don’t want to think about her. I want to think of Lyra and her tight pussy and her hard nipples. I bend down and kiss her hungrily to get Bernadine out of my brain and she whimpers into my lips. I’ve obviously angled at a good spot inside of her, so I move harder. The sound of skin slapping on skin is driving me mad and I feel her hands running through my hair.

When I orgasm I push deep inside of her, filling her with my cum as I grunt into her neck. She’s holding me tightly against her and I can feel her pussy throbbing around me. But she hasn’t come, and I’m not a selfish lover.

I pull away and out of her and kneel between her legs. She lifts her head to see what I’m doing but instantly drops it back down when my tongue darts out between her folds to taste her, with a mix of what must be me. I lick my way up slowly from the bottom of her lips, between them, and up to her clit. I flick my tongue rapidly at her clit and her hands snake down and grab my hair tightly. She likes it, I like doing it.