Page 8 of Marked By the Possessive Polar Bear
“He’s not coming,” I say as I scratch my pencil back and forth along the rope.
“You talked to him? Or to Magnus?” Julian asks, perking up.
“No, just a gut feeling.”
The door opens even though the sign is still flipped toClosed. My heart skips a beat as I whip my head up, hoping to see a tall sexy polar bear shifter strutting through the door.
My shoulders drop and my stomach plunges when I see Curt instead.
He’s my most loyal customer, and my most annoying. He’s a male stripper who has the hots for me and loves that he can take his shirt off in my chair.
“Hi Curt,” I say, trying to keep my voice chipper but failing miserably.
He struts in with an amused grin on his face, like he’s offering us all a gift by being so generous to anoint us with his presence.
“We’re not open,” Julian grunts. “The sign is there. Can you read?”
“You don’t need to read when you have abs like this,” Curt says as he pulls off his shirt in dramatic fashion.
Julian rolls his eyes and then heads into the back to start a new sketch.
“Your anchor is ready,” I say, showing him the tattoo.
He frames the spot on his side with his index fingers and thumbs. “I don’t know,” he says, putting on his regular routine. “This spot on my body is already a work of art. It’s kind of a shame to draw over it.”
He does this every time. Today, I’m not in the mood.
“Fine, we’ll cancel,” I say as I turn back to the reception desk.
“No, no,” he says as he hops into my chair with his hands behind his head. “I still want it.”
I place the stencil on his skin and get my needles and ink all set up. He hits on me the entire time.
“Most male strippers have to move through the crowd,” he says as I slip on a new pair of black latex gloves. “Because the women in the back row can’t see. But with me, I can stay on stage all I want, if you catch my drift. The women have no problems seeing me.”
“Because there’s hardly anyone in the audience when you strip?”
“What?! No!”
I try to hide my grin as I get him all worked up.
I don’t know why he keeps thinking I’m impressed with his muscles or body or profession. I couldn’t care less.
See, Curt is like a toddler. He only wants what he can’t have. And he definitely can’t have me. So, I’m all he wants.
“What are you doing Friday night?” he asks.
“Not watching you strip, that’s for sure.”
“I’m off,” he says. “I was thinking we could go out for a romantic dinner, go back to my place, have a little private strip session just the two of us…”
I stop what I’m doing and stare him in the eyes. “What did I just say?”
“Alright,” he says, putting his hands up. “I can watch you strip if you prefer that.”
“Oh my god.”
I just shake my head and get back to work. The quicker I can get this anchor tattooed on this annoying man, the quicker I can get him out of my shop.
