Lily's Law

By Danielle Torella

My clients call me Lily... Lily Stargazer.
No I'm not a stripper or a street walker...

But I sure as hell like to push it deep.

I call the shots, I take control, that’s how it goes. Don't like it? There's the door.

Everyone has a dark side, I wear mine proudly. Sure I have my secrets and a past, just like everyone else, but only he knows where I come from and he doesn't think I belong here.
Do I?

But even those who seem to be plain as day, have the darkest sides of all and when the lights go out and the bulb is changed, they can't hide it much longer.

I know who I am and I am not everyone’s shot of tequila...
But I sure as hell ain't a fine wine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Danielle Torella
• Release date: Sep 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311916624

Danielle Torella

Danielle lives in Western New York with her husband and two sons. Never knew she had a dream to become a writer until she started becoming obsessed with reading in the last two years. The obsession began with Twilight and then matured to Fifty Shades. While used to reading mainstream best sellers, found a new love for indie authors. She loves to do paintings related to the books she reads and eventually turning into Pushy Girl Paintings and now does work for other indie writers and readers. Her first book idea started from a dream she had one night and became obsessed with the story and started writing. Now having arguments with the people in her head and loving every moment of it, even when they take control of the story.

Book preview

* * * *

Lily’s Law

Copyright © 2015 by Danielle Torella

Photographer: Jeffrey Torella

Cover Designer: Randy Potvin

Formatted by: JT Formatting

Smashwords Edition

ISBN:

All rights reserved.

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Title Page

Other Work by Danielle Torella

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Epilogue

Author Links

Acknowledgments

The Private Series:

Private Message

Private Show

Private Affair

About Time

***

***

"Hey, what the fuck? This dick head has got to be fucking with me right? I haven’t even gotten through the outline and he is bitching like a pussy. You wanna take it easier there?" He looks up at me from my black leather table, his eyes pleading for me to say yes even through his non-threatening tone that he thinks he has.

I shove his shoulder back down with my elbow as hard as I can, Grow a pair and fucking suck it up. You move once more like that and I will turn this lighthouse of yours into a pink and purple spiraled penis. I wouldn’t really do that to the guy, but oh how I wish I could on so many occasions. So, lay the fuck back down and take it.

The twenty-something husky blonde, who I am assuming is getting this piece as an omage to home or some lame ass thing like that. Who cares where you came from? It’s about where you are in the now and are going. He rolls his eyes and I catch him calling me a bitch under his breath as he lays his head back down. Just for that, I push the needle a little deeper.

It’s not always shits and giggles being a girl in the tattoo industry. The shit I had to go and still go through just to get some respect would make any mother cringe. Sure the tattoo shows on television have strong women, but not too many of them have a clean mouth or wear sundresses and pearls. I am friends with most of them to be honest and I would consider a few of them my sisters. Would you have seen me on any of the shows? Probably, but do most of the viewer’s give a flying rats ass about the work we do? Nope. They only remember you for your tits and ass, not how well you can ink.

By the time I am done with the guy he is shaking and his buddy that came in with him, just finished up with Adam in the other room, and comes in laughing at him. Bro, are you crying? Besides you got the hot one. He laughs, I peer over at him and all while checking me out. Yeah, only in your dreams… I look back to my skin, who is turning red with embarrassment.

Like yours didn’t hurt, He challenges the friend who in contrary to his husky friend here, is a fucking bean pole, shit, I have friends who could dance off his lanky body. I set my machine down and remove my black latex gloves, stand up and toss them out. I wipe the blood and ink off his shoulder and tell him he can check it out.

Nah, man it didn’t hurt at all, he tells my skin, watching my ass as I clean up.

Ha! I laugh out, I can clearly see that the piece of shit is obviously lying.

Excuse me? The friend asks me. Obviously stunned that a girl like me is calling him out on his shit.

I finish dressing the fresh tattoo on husky boy and give it a light slap which causes him to hiss lightly in pain. I grin in satisfaction. I remove my second pair of gloves and saunter over to the friend. I don’t falter my step in my seven inch platforms, which really show off my ass in my leather pants. Pretty certain I can see drool puckering in the corner of his mouth. I get toe to toe with him and his breathing staggers. I eye him over, evaluating where he just had ink done. I see the white covering on his forearm. Grabbing his wrist, just shy of the tender spot he jumps. What’s your name? I say in my sexy tone.

He stumbles over his own tongue, Johnathan. Clearing his throat and repeats it a little deeper, trying to cover the fact that he is trying not to bust a nut, from my single touch.

Why are you making fun of your friend here?

He looks over my shoulder to this friend who is behind me, back to me he says, Because he is acting like a girl.

I give him my best Robert DiNero You talking to me? face and scratch my chin, "Like a girl you say? How exactly is he acting like a girl?" I trace my black painted fingernail over his new tattoo, making his breathing speed up.

Um, I didn’t mean to say…

Oh, but I think you did Johnathan. Thing is, I think…rather I know that this, this spot right here, I stop my finger and look down at the spot and grin. This spot is a tender area to work with. It’s thinner tissue and tends to hurt a little bit more when tattooed. I look up into his nervous eyes, which are locked onto my hand on his arm, waiting to see what I am going to do next. I push my thumb into his arm, And I am sure you weren’t exactly comfortable were you?

He yelps out, No, it hurt, it hurt! I smile and let go.

Say you’re sorry.

He looks past me to his now stunned friend, Sorry.

For? I make this even more painful for his ego. I stand there waiting with my hands on my hips with a little sexy pop.

He rolls his eyes and I reach for his arm and this time he quickly pulls it back, For calling you a girl Brian. Mine hurt too. Looking back at me, Okay? He throws his arms out.

Okay. I cross my arms and smile, my devilish smile. I hand Husky or Brian I guess his name is, his aftercare sheet and they book out of the building.

I hear hands clapping as I return to the front desk. I find Adam cheering me on, Now that was amusing, He informs me. Adam has worked here for a few years, he’s a good guy, has some great talent. Good looking mother-fucker too, but we never hit it off. Sure we slept together a few times, but nothing more than that. I don’t do relationships, well relationships don’t do me. Any guy I tried to date couldn’t handle me being around guys all the time and my long hours here at the shop. My shop.

I am glad you enjoyed the show, I take a bow. As many times as I get hit on in here, I would say making them squirm is the best part. I come around the larger counter and look over my schedule. I have one more appointment for the day, after being here for nine hours and constant back to back appointments, it makes for a long day either way. At least this last one tonight looks like an easy one, what is with these little infinity things with a word in them? Aren’t people even original anymore? I think these are the new kanji…

Adam puts his hand on my lower back and I straighten, turn my head to look at him. He has dark messy hair, but it’s not long, just fucked hair is more like it which is suitable, because he spends more time fucking than working. That’s one thing we tend to have in common. We are both whores.

He has his lip pierced in the middle and his blue eyes are like looking into the ocean. I have fallen for those eyes one too many times, after a handful of shots. What are you doing after this? He nibbles on his lip ring, knowing fully well that I like that.

I pull out tracing paper and start my stencil, avoiding the question long enough to come up with a plan. The sketch only takes me a few moments to get right, I let out a sigh as I think about what I want to do on this Friday night. I will probably hit up the usual, but I don’t know why you ask, because we both end up there anyways. It’s that or another dive bar for cheap liquor and cheap dicks who will pay for it.

Wanna ride over together? Adam questions wiggling his eyebrows, pulling out his helmet from under the counter. Yeah to top off the already panty wetting hotness of Adam, is Adam the biker. He doesn’t drive one of those silent sissy assed crotch rockets, no he drives a roaring beast of a bike. A man’s bike. It’s that roaring that gets me in trouble after a night of drinking and the vibrations on that bike that never lets me go home, but to his place every Single. Fucking. Time. He knows it gets to me too. He has an actual car, but he knows the bike wins him his nightly pussy.

Let me think about it, I play with him. He knows I will take the ride, I usually do. He smiles and shakes his head, because he knows too. I pretend to drop my pencil, Oops, I say and cover my red stained lips with my index finger and I slowly bend over to retrieve it, all the while looking over my shoulder to see if he is checking my ass out. You see I have a theory, if a man can check out your ass and not say something while staring, but rather after then he is more of a gentleman. But if he catcalls, whistles, howls or slurs verbal pervy rants, then he is a one nighter.

Just as I am about to prop back up Adam confirms my hypothesis and does a slow whistle. I turn and put my hand on his chest, Let me know when my next skin arrives.

***

After how many hangovers you would think I would learn to close my curtains before climbing into bed. Then again that would entail remembering coming in your own front door and getting into bed. The sun is of course early to rise and has the intensity of a million volcanic eruptions.

Ugh, eruptions, who did I fuck last night? I am sure it’ll come to me, or his dick will. Most people have a photographic memory of faces, me on the other hand, well I remember cocks.

I reach over slowly to the other side of my large bed, to check for a warm body. I exhale with relief when I find there isn’t one. I am not one to bring a guy home, as I am doing it in say a car, his place, an ally, restroom, and so on. Why? That’s another one of my little rules. Don’t fuck where you sleep. My home is for comfort and escape, not random fuckings. I don’t want some cheap ass body spray all over my deep purple Egyptian cotton sheets.

I nuzzle my face into my pillow and pull the covers up to my face. I am greeted with my ever demanding roommate nudging my hand. I know, I know… I mumble. By the time I pull my sheet away from my face I am flooded with the light and the sweetest face, Hungry? I ask.

I get my favorite wake up with a head nudge from Filaki, my sweet baby girl Sphynx cat. An old friend of mine came across this cruel kitten mill a year ago and brought it down with their protest group. Yeah, I have friends in all places of different types. Anyways, I agreed to meet her and once I saw her oversized ears and hairless body I knew I couldn’t say no to give her a good home. The first time I brought her to the shop she really freaked out some people. Not just my artists, but customers. That really sealed the deal for me, we were both odd looking to common society and could really flip people out. But my baby Filaki is the sweetest thing and understands me.

C’mon love let’s get you fed, I sit up and see that I am still in my panties, but nothing else. I suppose I gave up after getting everything else off. I look to the floor to find a trail of my leather pants, tank top and heels. I reach for a stray black loose fitted top, give it a sniff and it meets the clean approval and slide it on. I push my crazy long black hair behind my ears and I scoop Filaki up off the bed and into my arms. I pet her head as I pad down my long hallway of dark hardwood floors. The hallways are painted a deep gray matte with white crown molding. I have paintings framed in heavy vintage metallic frames. I reach the main opening to the open living room and kitchen space, as I enter the kitchen area I set Filaki down on the floor and I reach the cabinet where I keep her food.

As a contrast to the rest of my home, which is all black, gray and deep purples, my kitchen has white and black diamond shaped tile floor, black cabinets with glass doors with white and gray granite countertops with a matching island. Along with stainless-steel appliances, even though I don’t cook much. I pull out a clean dish for Filaki and pour her some food, as I do so she is rubbing up on my ankles meowing me to hurry with her breakfast.

I go to the refrigerator to grab some orange juice, when I catch my reflection in one of the cabinets. I look like hell. Filaki, why didn’t you tell me I looked so bad? I have darker rings around my eyes than you. I can say this, because she does in fact have darker patches of skin around both eyes. She has a unique pattern. She looks up at me from her food and meows. Yeah, save it. I pour the juice and throw a little tequila into it, what better way to get over a hangover than the hair of the dog that bit you. I take a swig and take the glass with me back down the hall to my master bathroom. I flick the light on, being that this is the darkest room in the house. I set the glass on the counter by the sink and take myself in. Eye make-up smeared all around my eyes, eyelashes clumped together and my lipstick is faded and smeared past my lips. Well, I obviously did some kissing. I roll my eyes and grab myself, yup sure as hell had some rough sex too. Little swollen and tender. A friendly reminder… I reach in my medicine cabinet and take my little pill, with another swig of spiked O.J.

I slip off my top and out of my panties and start the bath tub. It took a lot of time and money to get this bathroom just the way I wanted it. The walls are covered in a textured wall paper, which is a slightly reflective silver-gray color with a solid black filigree pattern all over. And I have a modest sized chandelier and when the lights hit the walls it shimmers. The ceiling is a very light gray and the floor is black and shiny as hell. Vanity is black, of course and the countertop is a granite that has gray, black and silver reflective pieces in it and the sink is a bright stainless-steal. I have wrought iron sconces with plum shades as well. All glass standing shower, but the tub is my favorite. I have an all-black soaking tub. I could easily have two people in this thing, but again with rule number two I don’t allow that to happen. So it is always a party for one in here. I have candles and magazines and a little cart that I can wheel over with some booze and just forget the night before.

I pour in some oils into the scolding hot water, grab my morning cocktail and sink into the water. It stings, but feels good. I know this will help get rid of some of the soreness I have from a good pussy pounding I endured last night.

That’s my typical though. Work, go out, party. Find a hopefully good fuck and make my way back home. Judging by the twinge I have before, I know I didn’t go home with Adam. He isn’t that rough. What can I say, he is the only guy I have met or slept with, same difference considering most of the guys I meet I screw… Anyways, Adam has the biggest dick I have seen. Not just long but holy mother of…he is thick. I love it. And he knows it. I squeeze my thighs in the water just thinking about it. Adam is tall, and has that bad boy mysterious look about him and covered with tattoos. Many of which I have done myself during slow days at the shop. He is the only one who knows where I really come from, the only one who has cared enough to ask. I guess you could say he is my best friend…well him and Seth.

I let my head fall to rest on the back of the tub and I lift my drink to my lips and let it slid down my throat. I let my arm hang off the edge and I hold the glass. I close my eyes and let everything wash away. After a half hour I drag myself out and walk naked to my room. I pick up my phone, swipe it to unlock it and see if I have any clues as to what went down last night. I go to my photos and I see pictures of Adam, me with Adam, Adam with a girl, Adam making out with girl and there it is a selfie style photo of me sticking my tongue down some blonde guy’s throat. He’s good looking, not gorgeous, but cute. Shaggy curly hair, pulled into a man-bun and a light beard. He has big plugs in his ears and wearing a blue tank top. That’s all I can see of the guy. I close the photos and look at my messages.

Adam: Hey see you tomorrow at work, be safe.

Adam always checks up on me, he is a good guy, just not my guy. I reply back to him.

Lily: Hey, I am good, just getting up. See you in a couple hours.

Then I see a number, but no name.

[phone]: This is Jacob, I had a great time last night. Hope you did too. I can’t stop thinking about driving my cock in you. Call me.

Ah, man-bun has a name, and it’s Jacob. Ew. I go into my contacts and delete the number and block it. I don’t do redo’s… Even though I do like the man-bun… Tossing my phone on the bed I get ready to rock and roll.

I open the doors to my walk in closet and the light turns on automatically. I reach for a black, sheer layered high waist maxi-skirt and a crop top that is a tank top, with the word Weirdo on it. I slip into them and my ribcage is exposed and so are my tattoos. I go back to the bath room and apply my layers of eye make and opt for an ox-blood red lip today. I curl my black dyed locks and once I am satisfied I go on the hunt for a pair of shoes. Platform Mary-Jane’s with leather straps that weave up my calf with buckles, they add another five inches to my five-three frame.

I’m skinny with just enough curve with my b-cup chest and just enough hip. My skin is paler than most here in the area, but I do spend most of my days in the shop and my nights in the bars. Tans are over rated.

The rest of my week kind of goes like this:

Wednesday: A handful of shots of Jack D and a night with Chase a mechanic who works for BMW.

Thursday: Random drinks from random dicks, who didn’t stand a chance, until the last guy, who says he was a male model from New York and he ordered me a Screaming Orgasm and I thought I would show him what one really looked like.

Friday: Early in the shop and late out. Friday’s are pay-days for most and they want to drink, party and hit up the shop. I refuse anyone who is shit-faced and believe me that’s a lot of lost business, but I am not going to be sued for inking some fucktard when he can hardly walk. If I am going to be sued it’s going to be, because I beat the shit out of the guy for grabbing my ass or any other unwanted touching. I will give you a warning, but you only get one, after that the knuckles come out. Came close today to getting an assault charge… Needless to say I really needed a drink after last night, but wanted to be alone. I finished half a bottle of Jack on my own at home, while drawing and painting, and a little dancing with Filaki… Until the sun came up.

I don’t wake up until noon. Realizing that I have been neglectful on my well-being, I actually fix a healthy breakfast for me and Filaki. I lace up my shoes and head for a three mile run. I get into town and I stop for a protein smoothie, before rounding back home. I am not one of these new age healthy freaks, that do the juicing fad, but I am all about coconut, mango protein smoothie. My most recent favorite place closed down, as do most of those places within a six months span. Not too many people around here are all about health, but just being skinny or drunk. So either they are just not eating, sticking their fingers down their throats or they drink so much they throw it all up anyways, thus the drunk and skinny two-for. I walk into a new place and it is stark bright white, a shock to my gothic eyes. Did I mention I am pretty much a vampire? I think I actually hiss when I walk in. I am hesitant to remove my sport sunglasses, but I can’t read the menu. I see containers full of grass, which my curiosity gets the best of me and I have to touch it to see if it’s real, and of course it’s not. It’s about as fake as the girl behind the counters boobs.

Hi, can I help you? An overly chipper bottle blonde asks me. Her plastic boobs are constricted in her white uniform.

I look the menu over and when I don’t see what I normally get I ask, Do you have anything with coconut?

Um… What we have is up on the menu... She chews her face when she talks.

I can see that, but can you add coconut? I control the mocking tone in my voice, because she has this Valley Girl accent to her and it’s hard to not pick fun of her.

She hold up a finger and calls over to another young male, Curtis, this woman wants to know if we have coconut…

Oh my fucking God, you have to be shitting me right now. Model boy, my Thursday or chop job shave job and he obviously stuffed his briefs, because it wasn’t as big once we got down to it. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees me on the other side of the counter, Curtis is it? I smirk.

Do you two know one another Curtis? Blondie asks with confusion, which I am assuming happens a lot, probably killed one too many brain cells with that bleach.

Thursday, eyes me, asking not to say anything and drops his head and looks back to the girl to finally answer her. No, only seen her here and there in here, I’d don’t know, you look like maybe a model? Have you been in anything before? This is going to be fun.

She looks to me and I nod in agreement. I see Thursday or Curtis I guess is the liar’s name. What will a guy not do or say to get some action? I have fucked many men of many professions, but a juicer is a new one. Ah, shit how old is this kid?

I uh, can make one for you with coconut. We just got some in the other day and will be adding it to the menu. He is trying to sound as professional as possible, but I think I am making that quite impossible. Okay, so me running my fingers over my glistening sweaty chest, probably isn’t helping, but fuck, I can’t resist. Fucker is going to pay for his lies. Karma.

"That would be