He peels the muscle shirt off his back in front of the seated woman. His entire torso is covered in ink, with the exception of a stretch of bare skin above his pelvis. The woman – wearing black panties and nothing else – moves a hand up his firm body. Her fingers touch each tattoo, various women in undress.
“Who are these women…?”
“Want to meet them?”
He lifts her head and stares in her eyes. He sees fear. She tries to scream but nothing comes out. Silence. He looks down; the stretch of bare skin can no longer be seen.
Author’s Note: An ode to the bad boy; nice guys finish last but that’s what makes them good in bed.
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