Chapter 3: Fantasy Fulfillment
Mira kicked her apartment door shut behind her, dropping her keys in the ceramic bowl by the entrance. She leaned against the door, eyes closed, still feeling the lingering warmth of Hayden sitting across from her at dinner.
Just colleagues. That's what she'd told herself as they shared spicy Thai food and conversation that flowed easier than it had any right to. Just colleagues who happened to be eating pad kee mao while Hayden's blue-gray eyes lingered on her lips every time she took a bite.
"Get it together," she muttered, pushing away from the door and heading to her bathroom.
She stripped off her work clothes, dropping them into the hamper. The scent of antiseptic and ink clung to her skin. But underneath that, she caught traces of Hayden's cologne, somehow transferred to her during their session. She turned the shower on hot, hoping to wash away the memory of his muscles tensing under her fingers.
Twenty minutes later, wrapped in a soft robe with her hair damp around her shoulders, Mira poured herself a generous glass of wine. She sat on her couch and opened her tablet, intending to work on designs for tomorrow's clients. Instead, her finger tapped on Hayden's phoenix.
The outline glowed on the screen, and she found herself adding more detail, enhancing the sweep of the wings, perfecting the curve where feathers emerged from mist. She could still feel the heat of his skin under her palms, hear the slight catch in his breath when she'd hit sensitive spots.
"This is ridiculous," she said, setting the tablet aside. Just another client. A handsome one, sure. Intelligent. Successful. With shoulders that felt like warm marble under her touch.
The wine wasn't helping. If anything, it loosened the grip she kept on her thoughts during their session. Now, in the privacy of her apartment, those thoughts roamed free. What would've happened if she hadn't kept things professional? If she'd let her fingers trace the Latin script on his collarbone? If she'd followed that path downward?
Mira finished her wine in one long swallow. She tried focusing on the TV, some mindless reality show, but found herself staring at the screen without registering anything. Her body hummed with lingering energy that had nowhere to go.
With a frustrated sigh, she headed to her bedroom. Sleep. That's what she needed.
But sleep wouldn't come. She tossed in her sheets, too aware of her body, of the ghost of Hayden's presence that seemed to have followed her home. The memory of his muscles under her fingers, the way he'd watched her in the mirror, the intensity in his gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that only made the images more vivid.
"Fuck it," she whispered into the darkness, giving in to what her body had been demanding since she'd left the restaurant.
Mira slid her hand beneath the covers, fingers trailing across her stomach. In her mind, it wasn't her touch but Hayden's, his large hands exploring her body with the same intensity he'd watched her work on his tattoo.
She imagined him there, above her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. Her dark hair splayed across the pillow, her olive skin flushed with desire. She pictured how his eyes would trace the curves of her breasts, smaller than she'd like but sensitive enough that even the brush of her own fingers made her gasp. She imagined his hands, strong and confident, traveling down her sides to her hips, gripping the slight flare there before moving to the heat between her thighs.
Her fingers slipped lower, finding herself already slick with need. She gasped at the first contact. Would he touch her like this? Gently at first, then more insistent as he learned what she liked?
Her breath quickened as she built a fantasy. Not at home, but back in her studio. Her private room with the door locked, the chair where he'd sat for his tattoo now serving a different purpose.
In her mind, she pushed him back against that chair after everyone had left. She straddled him, her hands on his chest, fingers tracing each muscle.
Her actual fingers circled her clit, slow then faster, matching the rhythm of her fantasy. She imagined Hayden's hands on her hips, guiding her movements as she ground against him. She would tease him, taking her time because she'd be in control, not him.
"I need to taste you," fantasy Hayden would say, his voice rough with wanting.
Mira's free hand moved to her breast, pinching her nipple as she pictured Hayden's mouth there, hot and demanding. Her back arched off the bed as she pushed two fingers inside herself, thumb still working her clit in tight circles.
In her fantasy, they were frantic with need, her unbuckling his belt, him pushing her skirt up around her waist. She'd be wearing a skirt, something easy to push aside. And no underwear, a detail that made her moan into the empty room as her fingers moved faster.
She imagined sinking down onto him, taking him deep inside her as his hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks. She would ride him in that tattoo chair, her hands braced on his shoulders, watching his face as pleasure overtook him.
"Hayden," she whispered into the darkness, her fingers curling inside to hit the spot that made her see stars.
In her mind, he was saying her name too, his voice strained as they moved together. His hands would be everywhere, greedy for her body, his mouth hot on her neck, her breasts. She would take him deep, control the pace until neither of them could stand it any longer.
Her fantasy became less coherent as her body tightened, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. She imagined Hayden watching her come undone, those intense eyes fixed on her face as she lost control.
"Let go," fantasy Hayden would command, his voice husky against her ear. "I want to watch you come."
Reality blurred with fantasy as Mira's orgasm crashed through her, her back arching off the bed, her fingers driving deep as waves of pleasure pulsed through her body. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, her thighs trembling with aftershocks.
As she slowly came down, her breathing returning to normal, Mira stared at her ceiling. That was... intense. More intense than anything she'd experienced in a long time, and it was just a fantasy. Just her alone in her bed, thinking about a man she'd known for all of two meetings.
"This is bad," she murmured, pulling her hand away from her still-sensitive flesh. She rolled onto her side, curling into herself.
The problem wasn't just the fantasy. It was how easily she could imagine herself doing it. How much she wanted to feel Hayden's hands on her, his mouth on her skin. How vividly she could picture breaking her most sacred professional rule.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Mira reached for it, half expecting to see Hayden's name, as if her thoughts had somehow summoned him. Instead, it was a text from Riley.
How was dinner with Mr. Corporate Hottie?
Mira groaned. Of course Riley had noticed. The girl missed nothing.
Just professional. Discussing tattoo stuff.
The lie felt obvious even in text form. Riley's response came quickly.
Sure, Jan. That's why you're texting back at 1AM instead of sleeping.
Mira looked at the time, surprised. Had she really been lying awake that long?
Working on designs. Going to sleep now.
She set her phone down, ignoring the immediate buzz of Riley's response. This was getting out of hand. She needed to get a grip. Two more sessions and Hayden's tattoo would be done. She could manage that. Keep things professional during the day, indulge in fantasies at night if she had to.
No harm in fantasies, right?
The next morning hit Mira like a truck. She'd finally fallen into a fitful sleep around 3 AM, only to be awakened by her alarm at 7. She stumbled through her morning routine in a fog, replaying fragments of last night's fantasy as she brushed her teeth, showered, dressed.
"Morning, sunshine," Riley chirped as Mira walked into the studio. "You look terrible."
"Thanks," Mira grunted, making a beeline for the coffee maker.
"Late night?" Riley's voice dripped with suggestion.
"Working on designs," Mira insisted, filling her mug to the brim with the strongest coffee they had.
"For Mr. Corporate's phoenix?" Riley leaned against the counter, her eyes too knowing.
"Among others." Mira took a long sip, letting the caffeine hit her system. "What's my schedule today?"
"Full slate starting at 9. But first," Riley lowered her voice, "tell me about dinner. And don't give me that 'just colleagues' bullshit. I want details."
"There's nothing to tell," Mira said, though the heat creeping up her neck suggested otherwise.
"Come on." Riley hopped onto the counter, swinging her legs. "I've been your friend for three years. I was there for the whole Max disaster. I held your hair when you got drunk and threw up in my bathtub afterward. You owe me gossip."
"We had Thai food. We talked about his tattoo. He walked me to my car. End of story." Mira focused intently on stirring her coffee.
"Boring." Riley made a face. "Did he at least try to kiss you?"
"No!" Mira said too quickly. "And I wouldn't have let him if he tried."
"Right. Because of your stupid rule."
"My rule is not stupid," Mira countered. "It's practical. Professional."
"Your rule is about Max, and Hayden isn't Max." Riley's voice softened. "Not every guy who sits in your chair is going to steal your designs and claim them as his own."
"I know that," Mira said, though the reminder of what Max had done still stung. "But rules keep things simple."
"Simple isn't always better." Riley jumped down from the counter. "And for what it's worth, Hayden looks at you like he wants to memorize every inch of you. Not just for some magazine feature." She sighed dramatically, then persisted, bumping her shoulder against Mira's. "Did he at least try to hold your hand? Kiss you goodnight?"
"It wasn't a date," Mira said firmly. "Just two professionals having dinner."
"Uh-huh." Riley clearly didn't believe her. "So that's why he called this morning asking for your cell number?"
Mira nearly choked on her coffee. "He what?"
"Relax," Riley grinned. "I told him we don't give out personal contact info for artists."
"Good." Mira tried to ignore the mix of relief and disappointment that washed through her.
"But he did leave a message." Riley's grin widened as she slid a note across the counter.
Mira took it, unfolding it to find Hayden's neat handwriting.
Thanks for dinner and conversation. Looking forward to our next session. In case you need to reach me about the design (or anything else). - Hayden
A phone number followed. Mira stared at the note, her mind immediately racing to very unprofessional places.
"So," Riley practically bounced with curiosity, "what was dinner like?"
"It was just Thai food." Mira tucked the note into her pocket. "Nothing special."
"Nothing special doesn't make you blush like that."
Mira touched her cheeks, finding them warm. Damn it. "It's hot in here."
"Sure it is." Riley rolled her eyes. "You know, your rule is stupid."
"My rule keeps me employed and respected," Mira countered, the familiar argument settling her nerves somewhat. "I learned my lesson with Max."
"Max was an asshole who took advantage. Corporate Guy seems different."
"His name is Hayden, and it doesn't matter how he seems. Rules are rules."
Riley shrugged. "If you say so. But that man looks at you like you're a meal he can't wait to devour."
The choice of words sent a jolt straight between Mira's legs, unwanted images from last night's fantasy flashing through her mind. Hayden's mouth on her, his tongue tasting her...
"Jesus, Riley," Mira muttered, grateful when the front door chimed, announcing their first client of the day.
"Saved by the bell," Riley whispered, heading to the reception desk. "But this conversation isn't over."
Mira retreated to her private room, setting up for her first appointment. As she arranged her inks, her mind kept drifting to the note in her pocket. Hayden's number. Just a finger-tap away.
She pulled it out, staring at the digits. It would be so easy to text him. To suggest another dinner. Or more. But then what? Two more sessions with mounting tension? Or cancel the sessions and risk her reputation for a fling that might go nowhere?
With a frustrated sigh, she tucked the note back into her pocket. She had clients to focus on. Real clients, not fantasies.
But as she worked through the day, her hands steady on other people's skin, her mind kept wandering back to Hayden. To the way his muscles felt under her fingers. To the intensity in his eyes as he watched her work. To what might have happened if she'd said yes to more than just dinner.
By the time her last client left, Mira was a mess of conflicting emotions. She cleaned her station, trying to clear her head.
"I'm heading out," Derek called from the doorway. "You good to lock up?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Mira assured him.
"You sure? You've been distracted all day."
Mira sighed. Was it that obvious? "Just tired. Didn't sleep well."
Derek gave her a knowing look. "Wouldn't have anything to do with the corporate guy from yesterday?"
"Why does everyone assume that?" Mira groaned.
"Because we have eyes?" Derek shrugged. "Look, I'm not judging. Just be careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt again."
"Nothing's happening," she insisted. "He's just a client."
"If you say so." Derek clearly didn't believe her. "See you tomorrow."
After he left, Mira finished cleaning up. The quiet of the empty studio settled around her. She found herself in her private room, staring at the chair where Hayden had sat yesterday.
Her phone felt heavy in her pocket. She pulled it out, then the note with his number.
Just a client. Just a text. Just professional follow-up.
She entered his number into her contacts, her thumb hovering over the message field. What would she even say? Thanks for dinner? Looking forward to the next session? Want to come over and make all my fantasies come true?
The fantasy from last night flashed vividly in her mind. She couldn't help wondering how their next session would go now that she'd imagined him in her fantasy. Would she be able to keep her hands steady while working on his skin? Would she be able to maintain a professional distance when all she could think about was straddling him in that chair? The thought sent a fresh wave of heat through her body.
"This is stupid," she muttered, putting her phone away without sending anything.
She finished locking up, her mind still circling the same thoughts as she headed to her car. The night air did little to cool the heat that had been simmering in her all day. Maybe another cold shower would help. Or another session alone with her fantasy Hayden.
But as she slipped her key into the ignition, her phone buzzed with an incoming text from an unknown number.
I hope it's not too forward, but Riley gave me your number. I have a question about tattoo aftercare. - Hayden
Mira stared at the message, a mix of irritation at Riley and excitement fluttering in her stomach. She took a deep breath, then typed a response.
What's your question?
The reply came almost immediately.
Is it normal to not be able to stop thinking about your tattoo artist's hands?