" Nigger bait, huh?" he asked me and I blanched at the word, feeling the blood drain from my face even as the rest of my body burned with humiliation....How much for the tattoo?" Heather asked him, ignoring my discomfort completely."I do it for free," he shrugged. "Give me a piece of the bitch when it's done." Yeah?" Heather smiled at that. "Deal. Just make it look good." Shit!" the guy grinned at her. "I know my bidness." Bidness?" she rolled her eyes. "You think that makes you sound more. Ignoring your calls, not responding to messages sent…no matter how heated and erotic…no matter what fantasy you are currently exploring with those soft curious and experienced fingers of yours. I resist, though it isn’t even resisting, because my drive to indulge in your many skills has been banished, exiled, and left me to my solitude. Of course it does not bother me…in that moment I am exactly where I want to be, so ignoring you is not even a conscious decision…it is merely me, being me. . .." Ahem!" interrupted the stout Irish woman. "What in the Sam-Hill is going on here?" she demanded."Oh hi, Mother. Back already?" Patrick O'Shea rose from his chair and went over to kiss his wife on the cheek. "Is it that time already? We'd better check on the food, son. Why don't you and Gina set the table, Mother? Liam and I will serve." Leaving his wife stunned, Patrick went over to his son, slapped him on the back, and hustled to work.Both women remained in the doorway staring at each. "Fucking hell, I'm soaking" she said as she got into the car. "I hope so" I said, winking at her. "Stop it you" "Or what?" I said. She gazed at me straight in the eye. I knew what. "Where are we going?" I asked. "Let's go somewhere quiet, away from her and everyone else, so we can sort this out." We talked as I drove. We were both scared of this getting out. We decided that we would now meet in hotel suites and tell her it was still off. "I've missed you" she said. "Every time's been.