by Louise Hall
When we get back to my place, I ask Zev if he wants to stay over again. “It’s not an invitation to bump and grind by the way,” I say over my shoulder as I unlock the front door.
“I know,” Zev surprises me by planting sweet kisses on my shoulder. “We’re not there yet and that’s OK.”
After we’ve both showered separately – ugh is there anything more torturous than knowing that you’re hotter than hell maybe-boyfriend is just on the other side of the bathroom door naked and soapy? We get changed into more comfortable clothes. Zev has been spending a lot of time at my place so he’s started keeping an overnight bag in the trunk of his car, I make us one of the least disgusting vegan meals I know and we watch trashy TV until we’re both tired.
“I think Emmy’s warming up to me,” I muse as we climb into my bed.
“She definitely liked your ideas for the website,” Zev agrees.
“I’m trying to get Mats to come see Jericho with me,” I admit. “He doesn’t think it’s fair to adopt a dog when we don’t know how long we’re going to be here but he’s going into his second year of a four year course and then he’ll probably go on to post-grad. He’s got perpetual student written all over him, that boy.”
“What about you?” Zev turns to face me. “You thinking about staying here long-term?”
“I’m starting to like it here,” I chuckle, “I’ve got a job, Vada makes great coffee and I can just tell that at the rate we’re going now, Emmy and I are going to be besties in no time at all. We’ll soon be swapping clothes and painting each other’s nails.”
“What about me, huh?” Annoyingly, he’s quickly found out where I’m the most ticklish. It makes it difficult to win any kind of argument when your weak spot is right there just below your ribs.
“You’re not bad,” I squeal, squirming underneath his wicked fingers.
“Aren’t you worried about waking Mats up?” Zev asks. The walls are paper thin in this house.
I look over at the clock, “I can’t believe he’s still not back from his date with Vada yet? Do you think I should be worried?”
“What makes you think it isn’t going well? From what Maggie said, they seemed to have a good time together the other night.”
“Hello, have you met my brother? He’s got even less experience with the opposite sex than I have and as you now know, that’s saying something. The other night might have just been a fluke.”
“He’ll be safe with the Smurf.”
“So this is weird, right?” I ask Mats when he stumbles downstairs the next morning. “Me having a boy in my bed, you having a girl.” I heard him and Vada whispering and giggling when they came home in the early hours this morning – like I said before, the walls of this house are super thin.
Mats groans, “can we please not talk about this?”
“Not talk about what?” Zev asks as he walks into the kitchen. He lifts up his t-shirt to scratch at his abdomen and I almost swallow my tongue.
“It seems we weren’t the only ones who had a little sleepover last night,” I gesture towards my brother who looks as if he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “Vada stayed over.”
Zev’s face quickly resembles Mats’. “It’s way too early for me to hear about you and my cousin hooking up.”
Mats raises his eyes to the heavens, “for goodness sake, we didn’t hook up. It was late when we got back and so she slept over, it’s really not that big of a deal.”
“If you say so,” I hum, enjoying Mats’ discomfort way more than I should do.
“Yikes,” Vada says as she comes into the kitchen, trying to tame her wild blue hair into a more manageable ponytail. “Why are you two in such a grump this morning? Zev, what did you say to him? Mats definitely wasn’t like this when he first woke up.
The reminder that Vada was there when he first woke up because she and Mats spent the night snuggled up in his bed makes me chuckle, Zev wince and Mats plead to the heavens for mercy.
“If it’s my virtue you’re worried about,” she smirks, helping herself to some orange juice. “You don’t have to worry about that, Max Tyler helped me get rid of it when I was sixteen.”
Zev actually looks like he’s two seconds away from vomiting so I quickly guide him outside on to the front porch. I’m hoping against hope that I was right and a good lungful of ocean air can fix anything. “I really need to get my own place,” he grumbles as he sits down on the wooden bench.
“Yeah, about that…” I sit down next to him, “aren’t you a bit old to still be living like a frat boy?”
He raises an eyebrow at me and that sickly, green colour slowly leeches out of his tanned skin. “Just how old do you think I am, hot stuff?”
I tap my finger on my chin, “thirty five?”
He splutters, “you seriously think that I’m thirty-five?”
“You’re right, that was too generous. I think you’re probably nearer forty.”
He hauls me up on to his lap and before I know it his fingers have found that darn ticklish spot just below my ribs. “You want to try again?”
“Thirty-one?”
I must be wrong because that only makes him tickle harder.
“Thirty?”
I really need to get it right soon because otherwise I’m either going to pee myself or pass out.
“Twenty-nine?”
Darn, my bladder is feeling really heavy.
“Twenty-eight?” I yelp, squeezing my thighs together with everything I’ve got. It’s my Hail Mary pass and thank goodness it works. As soon as Zev lets me go, I scurry inside to use the bathroom.
When I come back, I’m feeling a lot more comfortable and Zev has almost finished his breakfast. “You’re still several years older than me though,” I can’t resist another little tease.
LOLA
“So…” Thursdays have quickly become my new favourite day of the week because it’s just me and Zev on the late shift.
After Zev popped my tattoo cherry with the Manchester bee on my claw, I asked him for a lotus flower on the back of my neck and I’ve quickly become addicted. That one was a gazillion times more painful but I don’t regret it. I’ve tried to figure out what’s so addictive about getting tattoos but I just love everything about the experience. It’s always after hours so there’s an element of being naughty and sneaking around behind people’s backs – not that Rusty would care. I love the chill of Zev’s chair against my skin, the flickering of the light above my head and the faded water stain on the ceiling that looks like the outline of Chile. I tell myself that I love knowing that I’m going to have these gorgeous pieces of art with me forever but if I’m being brutally honest, I think what I love the most is that for however long the tattoo takes to complete, I have Zev’s full, unwavering attention – his gorgeous blue-green eyes and his talented hands on my body.
After he’s finished with his last client of the day, I see them out and then flick the sign on the front door to ‘Closed’. Zev’s still finishing tidying up his equipment so I walk back to the desk. When he comes in, I’m swivelling back and forth on my stool. He raises an eyebrow at the slight squeak of the stool and I blush. I still get embarrassed even though he always seems to know when I’ve got a craving for more ink.
“I saw something and I was wondering…”
I can’t look at him. I’ve slipped a bookmark between the pages of the leather-bound portfolio. This is going to be my most daring tattoo yet.
Zev slides the portfolio across the desk and flicks it open. He studies the photograph for a minute and then looks back up at me. “You’re sure that’s what you want?”
“Yes,” I hate how breathy my voice sounds. “It’s so beautiful.”
“I know it is but it’s very different from what we’ve done so far.”
“I know,” I put my hand over his. I want him to feel the strength of my conviction.
After he turns off the lights in the front of the shop, I follow Zev into his room at the ba
ck. I curl up on his chair while he sketches out a design for me.
When I’m completely happy with what he’s sketched then comes the most awkward part of the evening. I’m not getting a tattoo on my arms or legs or even my back, I’m getting it between my boobs and the only way that Zev can do it is for me to take my top off. I’ve never actually shown anybody my boobs before but I’m determined that I want this tattoo. I quickly whip off my t-shirt so I don’t chicken out and then the only thing concealing my small boobs from Zev’s scorching hot gaze is my white lace bra.
He gulps and even though he’s probably seen countless naked women before, I can tell he’s affected.
I’m five seconds away from being a big old wuss so I quickly turn my back on Zev and remove my bra. I toss it on the counter and it looks so wanton, I have to stifle a giggle. I’m not ready to show Zev everything so I cover my nips with my hands before I turn back around.
With my hands still firmly covering my boobage, Zev helps me recline on the chair. Sheesh, with me being topless the chair feels ice-cold against my back and I let out an embarrassing little squeak.
When he’s got his equipment ready, Zev asks me one more time, “you’re sure you want this, Jane?”
“I’m certain.”
It’s definitely not the most comfortable tattoo experience I’ve ever had. My boobs might be small but so that Zev has enough room to work, I have to tug them to the side and squash them down. My nipples pop out in protest at being smushed against my palms and having a sharp needle scratch so close to them.
After he’s finished, I have to give the girls a jiggle to get them to feel normal again. “What are you doing?” Zev smirks as he watches me wriggle about on his chair.
“I think my nipples have gone numb.”
He raises an eyebrow and another shiver ripples through me. It’s criminal for somebody to be so good-looking, it really is. “Do you want me to help bring them back to life?”
Yep, just a few words from Zev and they’re fully functioning again. It’s like all of the blood has suddenly rushed back into them and they feel all hot and tingly. They butt against the palms of my hands as if to say “get out of the way, there’s a hot man there who wants to resuscitate us!”
They might be ready to throw themselves into Zev’s big hands but I’m not.
“I think I can manage.” Darn, why does my voice have to splinter on that last word?
“Have you ever thought about having any more piercings?” Zev asks. There’s no way on earth I’m putting my bra back on so he hands me my t-shirt.
I had my ears pierced when I was seven but that’s it.
Once my t-shirt is back on, I can let go of my boobs and I’m sure they sag with disappointment that they won’t be getting up and close personal with Zev just yet.
I hadn’t really thought through the whole getting a tattoo between my boobs thing when I was getting dressed this morning and so I wore an olive green t-shirt to work today. As if to punish me for denying them Zev, my nipples decide to do their darndest to poke through my t-shirt. Zev can’t help but notice.
He reaches up and lightly strokes the side of my breast and gah, why can’t I stop shivering? I live in Oahu not freaking Siberia. His gentle touches definitely aren’t helping the whole visible nipple thing.
I start to stand up and am smacked in the face by the tattoo comedown. I quickly give up on the idea and sit back down on the chair. It isn’t the comfiest place in the world but since getting up means seeing baby birds whizzing around the top of my head, I’m definitely OK with spending the night on Zev’s chair.
“You’re such a lightweight,” he chuckles before I can lie back down. He slips one of those lovely strong forearms under my thighs and lifts me up. “Ow,” I whimper as my boobs knock together in a really undignified fashion.
Zev carries me along the hallway and up a flight of stairs I’ve never seen before. “Where are you talking me?” I ask drowsily.
“Shush.”
He places me down on the bed and I swear the tattoo ink he used must have been spiked with tequila because I feel crazy drunk. It’s the only possibly reason for the words that come out of my mouth next. “Are we going to have sex now?”
Zev rolls his eyes and mutters something that sounds like “give me strength.”
“Turn over,” he nudges. I roll over on to my side, ignoring my aching boobs.
I feel him curl up behind me and I wait for him to make a move. We’ve been kissing for weeks now. He rubs circles on my hip, over the top of my black denim skirt unfortunately.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I try to turn over but his grip on my hip keeps me still.
“What question was that, hot stuff?” his breath tickles the back of my neck.
“I asked if we’re going to have sex?”
He chuckles, more warm puffs of air against my neck and shoulder, “not tonight.”
“That sucks. But we’re going to eventually though, right?” I ask. I’m nowhere near as bad as my sister but I’m definitely not the most patient person in the world. “Because I really want to.”
“Is that so?” Another chuckle.
I’m tired but I’m also kind of fussy about cleanliness so before I can fall asleep, I ask Zev one more question. “Whose apartment is this?”
“It’s Rusty’s or at least it was before he moved in with Darla.”
I try and sit up because as much as I like my boss, “I’m totally not sleeping in Rusty’s bed, ew!”
Zev laughs and tugs me back down on the mattress. My boobs knock together again and I wince. Usually they’re so small that if I’m feeling brave or more likely, I’ve run out of clean underwear I can go without a bra but now after having a tattoo between them, it feels like every time I move I’ve got two sumo wrestlers fighting for dominance on my chest.
“He still owns it but Rusty hasn’t slept here for over a year. He gave me a key because I crash here sometimes if I’ve been working late or Danny’s got his girlfriend over at our apartment. Shanks and Emmy don’t use it because they don’t have roommates.”
When I wake up again a few hours later, it’s barely sunrise but it’s already hot and sticky in the small apartment. I wriggle out of Zev’s embrace and stumble across the bedroom to open the window. My denim skirt is all twisted on my hips and it feels so weighty that I can’t wear it anymore so I shimmy it down my hips, regretting it immediately as I feel my achy boobs protest against the accompanying jiggle.
“Wow, that feels good,” I close my eyes and savour the breeze which whips around my bare legs.
Zev yawns and stretches his arms above his head, “now that is a sight for sore eyes.”
I blush because although we’ve already slept together in the truest sense of the word, he hasn’t seen me in just my undies before.
I whack him with a pillow because it’s the only way I can think of to get him to stop looking at my legs.
“It’s not my fault that you’ve got sexy legs,” he smirks as his eyes finally meet mine.
I flop down on the bed next to him. He must have got up while I was asleep and changed out of his jeans into a pair of black basketball shorts. He was so blatant in his ogling of me just now, it’s kind of my responsibility as a believer in equal rights to take my sweet time appreciating his fine male form. It’s a tough job but somebody’s got to do it, right?
Zev’s body is so much more interesting than mine. I’ve seen his stump twice before. The first time was at the beach but he was in his boxers and we’d literally only just met so I was working hard to keep my eyes north of his belly button. The second time was when he had a rash and Emmy thought it would gross me out to see what was lurking under his bandage.
The early morning sunshine lights it perfectly and there’s just something so manly about it. It’s a reminder that he survived the accident that caused him to lose his leg. It’s a gazillion times more beautiful than my poor, withered leg. I gently touch his stump and when I look up
, Zev’s watching me intently. How can a man who’s so freaking strong have such vulnerability in his eyes?
I lean forward and gently press my lips against the edge. His skin is so warm and the soft hairs on his thigh tickle my nose. I want him to know that I like the whole him, not in spite of his disability.
“How many tattoos have you got?” I ask.
He shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess I must have stopped counting somewhere along the line.”
“I wonder if I’ll ever be like that.” My tattoos are still so new and precious that I can’t imagine there ever being a time where I won’t remember each and every one of them distinctly.
“Which one was your first?” I trace my fingers over the black, tribal tattoo which spans his right shoulder.
“It’s on my back,” Zev sits up and tugs his t-shirt up and over his head. He turns so I can see the majestic angel wings which spread across his upper back. “I got them for Toots.” I must look confused because he explains, “Toots was my grandma. My parents aren’t poor but they aren’t rich either. My dad’s a mechanic and my mom’s a kindergarten teacher. It was Toots that gave me the money to go to L.A. but unfortunately she passed away a couple of months after I left. I didn’t get to say goodbye and so when I got my first tattoo, I dedicated it to her.”
I can tell just how important she was to him from the slight husk to his voice when he talks about her. I press my lips to the back of his neck. “She sounds like a very special lady. I wish I could have met her.”
He tells me about his other tattoos and I love it because there’s a story behind each of them which reveals more about Zev, this guy that’s becoming more and more important to me.
“OK,” I giggle, looking at the tattoo beneath his ribs of a baby elephant with its trunk wrapped around a daisy. “What was the thinking behind this one?”
Zev groans, “I had a wager with a buddy of mine on the Lakers vs Celtics and as you can see, I lost.”
“It’s adorable,” I tease. “Tough guy Zev and his little, bitty elephant.”
“Hey,” he grabs me by my non-gammy ankle and I slide on my back down the mattress. “You’ve had your fun, hot stuff. It’s my turn.”
