Rose Tattoo Ch. 10

Evan was in his "Drawing I" class that afternoon after work. He was sketching a very clichéd bowl of fruit. That particular class wasn't teaching him much that he didn't already know but he was determined to do a good job anyway towards the completion of his Associates Degree. He wasn't sure what he planned to do with it but he needed something to focus on besides ringing out groceries. And, luckily, GC Mart actually offered a pretty generous tuition reimbursement program which was covering a good chunk of his classes so he felt obligated to take advantage of it. He was surprised when he'd learned that it covered any courses or program of study, regardless of its applicability to the grocery store. When he asked his manager why, he was told it had to do with community goodwill coupled with incentives to get low paid workers in the door coupled with much some needed, and very lucrative, tax write-offs.

And that's why he was in the middle of sketching the bowl of fruit when his teacher, Professor Allison Pendergast, walked behind him and eyed his work.

"Mr. Taylor?" she said, getting his attention. Evan turned around to look up at her.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Mr. Taylor, I must say, you have an amazing amount of raw talent. I do have to comment on one thing, though," she said, brow furrowed as she studied the piece.

"Yes, Ma'am? What is it?" Evan said. He always took criticism well.

"That peach that you drew. It appears to have a clitoris," she said bluntly.

Evan spun back to the drawing in horror. Sure enough, she was absolutely right. He'd been thinking of Linda, her naked body, and her vagina as he'd sketched on autopilot. And the charcoal peach had morphed into... well, you know.

"Er, uh," Evan said dumbly.

"Normally, we have no problem with students taking certain liberties with assignments. And I can tell by your skill that this is probably a rather mundane one for you. But, for now, if you could keep the drawing a bit less erotic and focus more on technique, I'd appreciate it," Allison explained.

"Of, of course, Ma'am. I, I don't know how that happened," Evan stammered. Dr. Pendergast clapped him on the shoulder as she walked away to the next student.

----

"Holy fuck, that's hot," Cindy said once Linda had completed her erotic tale. "You can definitely count me in. You'll have to get the other girls on board, of course, but for a piddly 10k, I'm sure it won't be an issue, especially if you tell them the same story. I'll have Michelle start drafting the usual docs. Have him come by tomorrow for the briefing."

"Actually, give me two days. I have one more play session planned for him," Linda said.

Cindy laughed. "Of course, you do. Well, don't hog him to yourself for too long. I can't wait for my turn! Just send him by whenever. I'll be waiting!"

"I'm sure you will be. Tell Michelle I said Hi."

"Will do," Cindy said.

----

Later that evening, Evan was back at home. He sat on his sofa and was picking at the to-go container with a mix of pork and rice. It wasn't the greatest, but the ethnic place was very close to his house and it was famously inexpensive for the massive portions they gave. Plus, the rice made it quite filling.

He put on the television. The nightly news was on. They were talking a terrorist attack. Or maybe it was a fatal accident. He could see the mangled mess of SOMETHING out of his peripheral vision but wasn't paying attention. His thoughts kept returning to Linda. Her check was sitting on the coffee table in front of him, the $500 in its neat script staring back at him. Accusing him.

He knew she was too old for him; she had said so herself. And she had made it clear that she wasn't looking for any sort of relationship. He hadn't had a girlfriend since Shelia, and since getting sober. The program discouraged relationships during the first months of sobriety when the members are most vulnerable. He was past that point now, but he had been so busy with work and school that he just didn't have time to date. That had meant that he'd been in a sexual dry spell for some time and he had been pretty hard up for some action which she had been nice enough to provide.

But now that he had been satisfied, why did he keep thinking of her? Why did he keep thinking of the feeling of her soft mouth around his member, sucking while she played with-

His phone rang and it seemed deafening in the small apartment. He looked at the number but it wasn't one he recognized. He considered letting it go to voice-mail for the briefest moment before picking it up.

"Hello?" - 'don't be a debt collector, don't be a debt collector.'

"Hi, Evan, it's Linda Andrews."

His heart jumped. "Hi, Ma'am! How is the tattoo healing?"

"Just fine, thank you. I was hoping we could meet again?" she asked lightly.

"Sure!" he said, much too eagerly. He couldn't see it of course, but Linda was grinning from ear to ear. His excitement was precisely what she had hoped for.

"Great. Can you come by my house tomorrow, say 6 pm? I'd really like to discuss a business proposition with you."

Evan's heart sank a bit. Business proposition? Not exactly what he had been hoping for. Maybe she wanted another tattoo? For $500, he'd tattoo anything she wanted, any WHERE she wanted.

"I'm going to be in class till 6. Is 7 PM ok?" He tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to hide his disappointment.

"Sure, 7 is fine. Oh, and Evan, one more thing," She left the comment hanging, waiting for him to prompt her.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Absolutely no masturbating before then." There was a click as the line went dead.

----

He was sure she hadn't said what he thought she said. But... what then HAD she said? Perhaps he had imagined the sentence entirely; maybe even the whole conversation? Should he call her back to confirm? No, of course not, she'd think he was fucking crazy. And he wasn't. Right? Right.

Later that night, he was laying in bed, waiting to fall asleep, and his thoughts returned to Linda again. This time, instead of her giving him head, it was her straddling his waist, arms around him, with her soft, moist pussy just an inch from his member. Her pubes were tickling the sensitive rim of his cock as she wiggled closer.

Back in the real world of his bed, his erection was raging and his hand drifted towards the bottle of baby oil that sat in his nightstand.

`ABSOLUTELY NO MASTURBATING."

Her commandment thundered in his head. Much louder, in fact, than she had actually said it on the phone. In his mind's eye, she was glaring at him, arms crossed over her chest, dressed completely in black. But that was only his imagination. She would never know if he touched himself, even if she really had said it. Right?

He pulled his hand away from the nightstand. He sighed, rolled over, and fell asleep with his hard-on neglected for the first time that he could recall since hitting puberty.