The Coochie Diaries
But today was for shading and color, a process Tobi had warned would be more painful but ultimately more transformative.
She arrived exactly on time, but instead of finding the shop empty as before, soft jazz played through hidden speakers, and the scent of fresh coffee mingled with the usual ink and antiseptic.
“Right on time,” Tobi said, emerging from the back. He looked different today, softer somehow, though no less intense. He wore a gray henley that stretched across his shoulders, and his hair was damp as if he’d just showered.
Before she could speak, he crossed the space between them and kissed her, not a greeting kiss but a claiming one, deep and thorough that left her dizzy when he
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