Selena Kitt - A Baumgartner Christmas

Doc was already pulling on his coat. “Hey, can you take Carrie home for me?”

“Sure,” his friend agreed. “No problem.”

“How long will you be?” Carrie put her arms around her husband for a kiss.

He gave her what she was looking for, far too briefly. “I’ll call you.”

She pouted. “We were supposed to have dinner.”

“You can still have Mexican delivered. Save some for me.” He kissed her again and then let her go. When he got to the door, he turned back and called out, as if just remembering, “And hey-no showing off cock tattoos.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Maybe I’ll get a vulva tattoo.”

“No you won’t.” He laughed. “Chicken.”

“Call me!” She waved as he pushed the door open.

“I will.” The bell tinkled as the door closed behind him.

Carrie sighed and took a seat next to the tattoo artist, watching his progress. They were the only ones in the shop.

Wilson saw the look on her face and nudged her with the tip of his combat boots. “Well, Tonto, I guess it’s just you and me.”

She smiled wanly. “Heigh-ho, Silver.”

They hadn’t spent much time together without Doc, so it was a little awkward at first, but by the time his tattoo was finished and Brad was greasing it up with Vaseline, they were talking everything from tattoos to their favorite television shows and laughing like old friends. She was surprised how easy he was to talk to.

“Are you suuuuure you don’t want to get a tattoo?” Wilson nudged her as he pulled out his wallet to pay for his new body art. “Last chance. You could get a lower back tattoo. Doc would love it.”

“Nope.” Carrie shook her head, adamant. “Not me. If they could do it without needles, I’d be all in, but I’m not into that pain thing.”

“You can do a temporary, see what it looks like. Just try it out.” Brad reached under the counter, pulling out a stack of temporary tattoos. “Look through, see if you find anything you like.”

Carrie frowned, pawing through them. “How do they go on?”

“Just warm water and a washcloth,” Wilson reassured her.

“No needles,” Brad agreed. “That one would look hot on your lower back.

It was a Celtic knot design, twisty and winding and sexy. She imagined Doc’s reaction when she showed it to him-pretending, of course, that it was real, that she’d been brave enough to go through with it. It would be a fantastic joke.

“Okay, I’ll do it. How much?”

“For you?” Brad glanced at Wilson and smirked. “Free. Come here.”

Brad came around behind the counter and led her to the back, Wilson following behind. He wet a washcloth with hot water, instructing Carrie to lie down on what looked like a massage table.

“Undo your pants,” he instructed.

She looked back at him, wide-eyed.

“You want it on your lower back, right?”

Wilson grinned, watching as Carrie undid her jeans, inching them down her hips so they could both see the black triangle of the thong she was wearing.

“Perfect.” Brad pressed the temporary tattoo to her back, applying the warm washcloth, which actually felt really good. “Now just hold still for a few minutes.”

“How long before it wears off?” She twisted, trying to see, but it was no use.

“A few days.” Brad lifted the edge to check it. “If you want it to come off before then, just rub it down with baby oil or vegetable oil.”

“Oh man, Doc is going to have a fabulous time doing that,” Wilson muttered, his gaze never leaving her ass.

Carrie laughed, blushing, asking him, “How does it look?”

“Sexy as hell.”

Brad nodded, agreeing. “Tattoos like you.”

“Can I see?” She rolled to her side, going over to the full length mirror hanging on the wall and turning so her back was to it. Her jeans were still undone, open in front, revealing the black lace top of her panties, but she was focused on her back where the tattoo had transformed her skin with black swirls, the pattern drawing the eye toward both dimples on each side of her ass. It was far sexier than she had imagined, and when she looked up at Brad and Wilson and saw identical looks of restrained hunger on their faces, she knew Doc would love it.

Brad cleared his throat. “Like it?”

“Love it!” She pulled her jeans all the way up, buttoning and zipping. “Thank you so much!”

“No problem.” Brad led them to the front of the shop. “Come back when you want a real one.”

She smiled, waving as they pulled on their coats and pushed open the door. “Maybe I will.”

Wilson’s Camaro got them back to her apartment in record time.

“Do you still want to order dinner?” she offered, her hand on the car door handle.

“Do you want to?” Wilson shrugged, rubbing at his goatee. “I don’t want to impose. This was supposed to be a threesome sort of thing.”

His words hung there, the suggestion in them palpable.

“Come on.” Carrie reached over and turned the key in the ignition to turn off the engine, sliding it out and putting them in his pocket. “It will be fun. Mexican food and reruns of I Love Lucy. What’s better than that?”

“Can’t think of much.” Wilson followed her into the apartment.

As promised, the little Mexican place around the corner delivered hot tamales and quesadillas in under an hour. Wilson ate four burritos while Carrie ate only half her quesadilla, putting the tamales away for Doc.

“He hasn’t called me yet,” Carrie pouted, glancing at the clock. It was already late-going on ten-and she’d hoped he’d be back in time to at least hang out with them for a while.

“Emergency rotation is crazy.” Wilson wadded up his napkin and sat back with a groan, patting his belly. “That was so good. I’m stuffed.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

He raised his pierced eyebrow, glancing at her. “Sure.”

“What do you think of Daphne?”

“Nice girl.” He closed his eyes, sinking lower in the couch. “Cute. Why?”

“Just wondering.” She couldn’t help but wonder, after seeing them together. Daphne hadn’t answered her phone that morning and she hadn’t had a chance to call her again to see if Wilson had actually stayed a while at her place-or if she had gone to his. She found herself thinking about them together, wondering if Daphne knew just what Wilson had tattooed on his cock.

He squirmed on the couch, making a face. “Damn thing’s really starting to sting.”

“Your tattoo?”

“Yeah.” He sat up, pulling off his shirt and looking over his shoulder. Carrie looked too, she could help it. He was just as well-built as her husband-a little leaner, lankier, but still, nice washboard abs and a broad chest. Daphne could do worse, she thought.

“This is why I’m a fan of temporary ones.” She leaned over to inspect the damage on his bicep. “No pain at all.”

“Want to do me a favor?” Wilson reached into his jean pocket, pulling out a little packet. He tore it open with his teeth and squirted something gel-like onto his bicep, starting to rub it in. “Can you put some of this on my back? I can’t reach.”

“Sure.” She spread the grease all along his shoulder where the snake coiled, each scale a dark, almost glowing green singed with black.

Wilson hissed through his teeth, glancing back at her.

“Hurt?” She tried to do it more lightly, although she found herself wanting to really massage it into his skin, dig her fingers deep into his muscles. She smirked. “You must have had fun after you got the tattoo on your cock.”

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t dating anyone at the time.” He laughed. “But I did have a bit of fun all by myself.”

She grinned. “I bet.”