“Whoa, is my legal counsel really advising me over what’s best for me instead of what gets her firm the most money?”
“Piss off. It’s Saturday night, I’m speaking to you as my brother.”
“Fine, I’ll go see the piece of shit, but I want all the points I need to hit him with laid out to me beforehand and drilled into me. There’s a good chance I’ll forget it all when I see him, because I’ll be too busy punching his face in.”
Skye had arrived at our table as I was speaking. Her eyes widened as she heard the tail end of what I’d said.
“Ribs for you, and a burger. Is everything else okay?”
“That’s great. There is one thing you can do for me: draw me a pretty picture of my companion here, will you?”
She looks at me with a furrowed brow. “Um, okay, if I get some time, it’s pretty busy in here tonight.”
“Thanks, Skye.” I wink at her and she scurries away.
Julie and I continue to talk about handling Kelso as we eat. She’s the slowest eater I’ve ever met and I finish way before her.
“We’re going to be late for Pamela’s.” Our baby sister has ordered us over for weekend drinks. Pamela doesn’t cook, and always insists we eat before we get there.
Julie shrugs and stuffs more fries in her mouth.
“I’ll go pay.” Julie has a mouthful of fries, and nods at me.
I make my way to the wait station, where I find Skye drawing on her notepad.
“We’re late for something, I’ve gotta pay now.”
“Leaving so soon?”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Maybe I am,” Skye says, with a genuine smile, not that fake smile she wore the first time I came in here.
“In that case, I’m pissed I have to leave.”
“Sure I can’t interest you in dessert?”
“You can interest me in all sorts of things, but right now I have to go.” I say, raking my eyes down and back up her perfect body. When I reach her eyes again, I capture her gaze.
“You’ll have to come back next week,” she says, chewing her bottom lip.
“Next time I’ll definitely stay for dessert.”
“We have several on the menu, you could stay long enough to sample them all.”
“The dessert I want isn’t on the menu.”
Skye’s eyes flare, and she turns away from me.
“Here you go.” She prints off our bill and hands it to me.
“How’s the picture coming?” I pull out several rolled-up bills and hand them to her.
“Well, I didn’t get much sense of who your date is, so I drew you instead.”
“Let me see.” I snatch her pad, intrigued by how she perceives me.
“It’s not finished yet,” she says, grabbing for the pad.
I hold it out of her reach and take a look. I’m so ripped in her picture that I look like a superhero. There are no horns on my head, and no fire coming from my mouth. Instead I’m standing with my arms crossed, my arms covered in ink and a hamburger in a thought bubble over my head.
“That’s definitely not what I’m thinking about,” I say.
“Then what are you thinking about?” She asks, her eyes pleading. I reach out and stroke the backs of my fingers down her cheek. Skye maintains my gaze, her breathing quick.
“It’s hard to put into words,” I say. Skye swallows.
“Then show me,” she says, her voice barely audible.
I reach out, cup the back of her head and press my mouth against hers. My cock stiffens at the softness of her lips. I pull away, leaving my hand cupping her head and holding her eyes with mine.
As soon as her mouth is free of me, she says, “Your date is right over there.”
“She’s not my date, she’s my sister.”
“I’m at work, I’ll get in…” I silence her by planting my mouth back on hers. She moans and parts her lips, allowing my tongue to dart into her.
I brush my hand down the length of her tight T-shirt. When I get to the fine ass I’ve been watching all night, I rub my hand over it. My cock aches for more.
“Skye! In the staff room. You! Stop harassing my employees or I’ll call the cops,” a man barks.
She pushes away and I release my hold on her. “Sorry, Kevin,” she says.
The man, I assume he’s her boss, stays where he is, glaring at us. I tighten my hold on her, ready to go back in for more, but she places her hands on my chest and it stops me.
“I have to go, I need this job.”
“Sure.” I can’t resist myself, I give her one more quick kiss on her lips then release her.
Gasping, she says, “Is that my tip?”
I laugh and say, “No, this is your tip: Stop waiting tables and become an artist.”