Pins and Needles

Get my crotch out of your head

We might've already broken the rules. It didn't take us that long to break it and even though I was struggling with it at first, I managed to find peace with it. I figured it probably didn't matter and it was a stupid rule anyway. Sometimes you just can't stop yourself and before you know it, it's out of your control. Weren't rules meant to be broken? A wise man once told me this. Or it could've been Snake. We all know he's a wise ass.

I'm not talking about the 'no feelings' rule. Come on, give me some credit here. I'm not a stupid little innocent girl in a sappy romance movie with a Gosling lookalike. I don't hear annoying violins playing whenever I see Brad and I'd rather eat a lump of clay rather than to kiss someone in the rain. Fuck the rain, I'd wanna go inside where it's warm and dry. My hair gets frizzy and the world isn't ready to see that happen.

Frizzy hair happens in the sanctity of my own bathroom, forbidden for someone else's eyes to behold for they might burn out of their sockets. Fuck, I should design my own quotes to ink.

What I was trying to say, before I got distracted by frizzy hair and movies that I can only watch with a barf bag or a bottle of tequila (in which case I'd also need a barf bag) is that we broke another rule. I'd told Brad I didn't want to do it at the parlor. He acted all smug and told me he'd change my mind on that, not knowing I could be stubborn as hell.

... Unless it involves sex apparently. It was my one and only weakness.

It went well for at least two days even though Brad couldn't stop whining about a quickie during our break or right after work. To which my argument was that he lives next to the fucking parlor. So he decided on another strategy. I learned that this guy wouldn't stop until he gave it his all. And boy, he did.

I was cleaning up because we'd just closed the parlor. Brad had had his last client and was in the back, shutting his laptop off while I was standing at the counter. I heard his footsteps coming closer but I didn't react because when I was cleaning I hurried the fuck up because I hated it with a passion.

"So... wanna do it here?" Brad asked for the tenth time that day. I rolled my eyes and turned around so I could face him while I was rejecting him but the words got stuck in my throat.

He was standing there, in the middle of the parlor, butt naked. A smug grin plastered on his face while he was slightly moving his hips and therefore also putting his schlong to my attention as it wiggled along with his hip movements. I burst out in uncontrollable laughter and probably destroyed a piece of his dignity while doing so. Served him right for acting like a dweeb.

"I really want someone to walk in on this," I said.

"They might want to join," Brad shot back while he was still sporting the same pose as before.

"Or call the cops," I snorted. I didn't even try to look him in the eyes, I wouldn't succeed anyway.

"I know my cock is impressive but it's not dangerous. Unless there's consent," he said with that cocky grin never faltering.

He slowly walked over to me and the next time my head was cleared again, we were both naked and panting. Oops. Once that happened, we just didn't care anymore where we did it.

"Gwen," Brad moved his hand up and down in front of my face to catch my attention. "Come back to the real world, we've got a job to do," he said, bringing me back to reality.

"Sorry, I was in deep thought," I confessed.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked while moving his eyebrows up and down.

"Not everything is about you!" I defended myself. "But yeah, I was thinking about what you thought I was thinking about," I muttered.

"Jeez, get my crotch out of your head for a second," he teased and I threw the pen I was holding in his direction. I welcomed the distraction though. I was supposed to give Jay his big ass tattoo today and even though I'd already done a few small ones, this was an entirely new challenge.