Made my appointment for my tattoo. Check.
Went to my first ever yoga class and wore new sassy, sexy clothes to it. Check and check.
Made a new friend. Check.
Chapter Seven
I was early for my appointment at Human Hieroglyphix. I sat in my car and ran my eyes over each and every letter in the neon sign. I didn't want to forget this moment, ever.
This was a big step for me; a huge, earth-shaking step for me.
I had dressed with care, wearing my new black yoga pants and a white button down shirt with a jean jacket I had found stuffed in the back of my coat closet. I had trouble with my shoes, though, and had ended up simply wearing a old battered pair of Keds.
On a whim, I had taken my long, long hair and put it high up on my crown and braided the length of it, making a thick braid that cascaded over my shoulder and laid over my breast.
I was going for casually chic, if I understood the term correctly from my magazine studies.
Taking a big, deep breath I steeled myself before grabbing my bag and heading towards the front door.
It may have been an award winner for years but it was in a questionable part of town.
There was Fuego's, one of the town's topless bars, on one side and I saw that Bewitchments, the town's only sex shop, located on the other side of the strip club.
Nice, I thought beeping my locks.
I could hear the music before I was even close to the door.
I stopped to look before I went in to, what appeared to be, an upscale shop. Clean with gorgeous pictures of tattoos in huge frames lining the walls. There was a girl behind the counter, her hair a strange short cut that was white blonde with hot, bright pink tips dancing to some kind of pulsating, almost erotic music that was pouring loudly from hidden speakers.
I opened the door and saw her turn towards me with a small guilty smile as she reached down and the volume of the music lowered.
"Gotta just love Fiddy, right?" She said with a crack of her gum.
I had absolutely no idea what she meant with that question but I recognized the voice, and the popping of the gum.
"Crystal, right?" I asked.
She tilted her head as her eyes raked me up and down.
"I'm Leila. Dex's four o'clock?" I prompted.
"Oh, yeah. Right." She said dropping her eyes as she fiddled with some paperwork on the desktop sunk below my eyesight.
"You need to fill out these three pages in full and sign here, here and here," she explained without raising her eyes. "If I could just get your ID, I'll get a copy made."
I dug my wallet out of my bag wondering what I'd done or said that caused her to close down between the 'Fiddy' and me saying her name.
"Uhm, Crystal? What's a 'Fiddy'?" I asked and watched her drag her eyes, her heavily mascaraed eyes to mine. They were a beautiful navy blue and gorgeous in spite of the ridiculously clumped, eyelashes.
"You're shittin' me," she whispered.
"Uh, no, I'm really not."
"Fiddy is Fifty Cent." She enunciated very carefully. At my blank look she continued. "You know, that rapper guy? Real name is Curtis somethin'-or-other."
I shook my head and watched her tilt her head again in confusion.
"You never heard of Fiddy?" she asked quietly, but incredulously.
"Sorry, no," I replied equally as quiet handing her my ID and picking up the clipboard.
"What about Pink?" she asked watching me fill in the questionnaire.
"Who?" I asked raising my eyes back up to hers, guessing I was right to ask 'who' and not 'what'. I watched as she did a slow blink.
"Pink! You know," and I watched as this glorious girl, this wisp of a woman began singing strong, in one of the most beautiful voices I'd ever heard, singing one of the most heart breaking songs I'd ever heard.
I was stunned.
I was overwhelmed.
I was, in short, awed.
"What was that?" I asked quietly, still overcome, blinking the tears back.
I saw her take in the full of my face.
"Pink's, Who Knew."
"Wow," I whispered, recognizing that that was my operative word for that day.
"Mean it?" she asked, and with that question I caught a glimpse of Crystal's scars.
Scars as deep as my own.
The lump in my throat grew bigger at the view and I could only nod.
"Where've you been, Leila? The moon?" she laughed.
"Practically," I said laughing with her and trying really hard not to sniff.
She reached under the counter and handed me a tissue. As she bent I noticed that what I had originally thought was a long sleeved top, made of beautiful red flowers with black leaves and stems, were actually her tattoos.
Full tattoos from her shoulders to her wrists.
Amazing.
"Looks like Dex is running late," she said apropos of nothing.
"How about you turn up Mr. Fiddy and teach me some of your moves?" I asked wiping my eyes and nose.
And we were stretching and stepping, rolling and dipping, giggling as we moved to the primal beats of what Crystal said was 'Candy Shop' when all of a sudden she stopped and ran behind the counter to turn the music down.
I stopped, too, unsure what was going on.
"Ah, hey, Dex," she said straightening her cute tank top that was emblazoned with some sort of wording that had long since flaked off. "How's it going?" she continued, pulling up her low riding camouflage pants.
I turned, pushing up my glasses, to see who she was talking to and almost fell on my ass.
It was him.
It. Was. Him.
Oh, shit.
Chapter Eight
He'd told her and told her but Crystal never listened.
He hated rap.
He hated hip hop.
And he absolutely hated music played so loud that the fucking windows shook.
And he especially hated it when she invited her skanky friends around to keep her company when she was bored.
"What the fuck, Crys?" he yelled as soon as he cleared the door.
"Uhm, Dex?"
"Don't fucking 'uhm Dex' me, Crys. Not in the mood, all right?" Fuck, but she pissed him off when she did stupid shit and lately all she did do was stupid shit. Swear to God, good buddy or no, Crys was gonna have to go.
"You got the fuckin' deposit ready?" he barked not even sparing a glance towards her friend as he moved to the counter.
"Uh, Dex, this is your four o'clock. You know, a customer?" Crys said with a shake in her voice that wasn't laughter. She was scared.
Scared.
Of him.
Christ!
He shook his head.
"Didn't I tell you yesterday that I wasn't available tonight?"
He watched as Crys glanced over at the other girl with an apologetic look.
"Well, didn't I?"
Crystal stared back at him.
Fuck.
"Okay, babe. What's it you want? A shamrock, a star or a heart on what? Your wrist, your ankle, your forehead?" He could hear his voice and it even sounded like a dick when he heard it.
He sighed.
Not the best customer service skills.
He turned towards the other girl, the one that was standing on the customer side of the table.
And he saw that she wasn't a girl.
She was a woman.
With womanly curves.
Who was blinking her big, brown, beautiful, no make-up, eyes slowly at him. From behind some fucking thick rimmed glasses. Her full, pretty, pink mouth was still stuck in the 'o' position of tonight's program.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm Dex. And I'm a dickhead."
"Hello, Dex," she said right on cue, seeming to catch on to his reference to an AA opening and colored prettily as she responded back.
"I can arrange another time if you want," she offered softly in her musical voice.
He silently sighed. He hadn't had two full days off in, he
couldn't remember how long and had really been lookin' forward to it. But, truth be told, he was almost bored with that much time on his hands which is why he had come back into the shop.
Or, if you prefer, to confirm to one and all that he really was a complete and total dickhead who had no life to speak of outside of the shop.
"What were you looking to get, gorgeous?" he asked, trying to make nice.
"Uhm, this," she said pulling a page from her enormous handbag and laid it on the counter between them.
This.
Holy shit.
"It's a Blue Pansy," she said softly.
"Junonia Orithya," he said softly giving it it's full Latin name.
"Also known as the Blue Argus in Australia," she murmured bringing her warm chocolate eyes to his green ones.
"But also known as the Eyed Pansy in Africa. Its only called the Blue Pansy in India."
"You know your butterflies, sir," she said looking back down at the piece of paper in front of them.
"Only the beautiful ones," he replied, never taking his eyes off her.
"So will you do it?"
"Would love to, Babe," and was surprised to find that he meant it.
"Crys, load 'em up. It'll take me a few to get set up, right?" he called over his shoulder as he removed the Henley thermal he was wearing and moved towards the back to wash up, his upper torso only clad in a white wife beater.
"And run the pic thru the machine." he yelled. "I'm gonna need it as crisp as possible."
He heard Crys say almost reverently, "Oh my God, he wants me to load up the CD player. He wants me to copy your design onto flash paper. He's gonna do it, Leila."
His ears caught the beginning of girly squeals of delight before the sound of the faucet cut them off.
He smiled at the sound.
*.*.*.*.*
"Looks like the flash came out perfect, so we can get the outline done tonight." Dex was holding up what looked like a piece of carbon paper that had brown paper backing.
"Just the outline?"
"Yeah, just the outline. Then, when the outline is healed we can add the color."
"So I'll have to come back?"
"Yeah. Know it sucks not to be able to walk out with the full tattoo, but believe me it’s the best way to have it done."
He watched her nod in reply. She was spread out on the chair underneath the bright light, her eyes glowing behind her glasses as she listened carefully to what he was saying.
"I'm guessing you've never gotten a tattoo before?" he asked, adjusting the bands on his machine.
"N-no, I haven't."
"Okay, so here's how it goes. I'll transfer the image, the picture you showed me, onto your skin, then I use my machine to put the outline ink into your skin. For some people, the noise or the buzzing of the machine is a problem. For others, the sting of the needles is a problem. If, at any point, anything bothers you then you need to let me know verbally and not flinch away."
"Not flinch?"
"Yeah, you have to try and remain as still as you can, okay? You flinch, the needles might drag and that really fucking hurts."
He watched her swallow as she took this information in.
"Also, there's some extra ink and bleeding -- not a lot, but there's some -- and I have to stop occasionally to wipe it off so I can see the flash, the lines of your design. When I do that, the buzzing of the machine stops and it’s a great place for you to tell me if you are uncomfortable in any way. Okay?"
"Okay." Her eyes were huge and he watched her unconsciously push her glasses back up her nose as she processed what he'd said.
"You want to include the pupa in it, right?"
"Yes," she replied. "I need…I mean, I want to show the cocoon in the background and the full butterfly."
"Progression," he said just to clarify.
He watched her beautiful mouth tilt up in a soft smile as another blush crept up her face.
Damn, but she was pretty, especially when she smiled.
"Progression," he heard her say softly.
"Okay, Babe. Where do you want this masterpiece?"
"Sorry?"
"Where on your body do you want your tattoo?" he said trying but failing to curb his smile.
"My hip," she replied.
"Your hip? Okay, I need a little bit more clarification here. You see, to some, a hip is a part of their ass…"
"Here."
He watched as this gorgeous but unworldly woman lifted her shirt and pulled her stretchy pants down, exposing the creamiest skin he had ever seen, and pointed to the curve on her side.
Just below her waist but before the flare of her hips.
His most favorite of the sweet spots on a woman.
"Okay. So your gonna need to shift away from me and lean forward a bit. You gonna be okay with that? Holding your pants outta the way and all?"
He watched as she moved onto her left side, away from him and pulled her shirt up and her stretchy pants down exposing the deep curve of her waist and the gentle upward thrust of her hip.
Beauty.
His cock stirred at the sight but he shut that shit down immediately. He was a professional for God's sake.
Dex had just gotten the flash applied when Crys came by, purse and jacket in hand. "Benny's here, Dex, and says that Gabe's coming later to use the light-box."
"You leavin'?" he asked checking his machine making sure all exposed parts were covered and that it ran with a gentle, smooth hum.
"Yeah, only had twenty piercings today but have a ton of appointments day after tomorrow. Doing a run with the deposit, too. Hey Leila, it was fun."
"Crystal, are you busy tomorrow? Because I need to go shopping and could use some advice. There's going to be a couple others with us but I'd really like to have you there if you could make it."
"Cool. What's your number?" and he watched as Crys programmed it into her phone. "What time?"
As the girls went into chin-wag mode, Dex stopped listening.
Dave Matthews was singing soft and low through the speakers, his tray was set up and the machine was running perfectly.
Time to play.
"Bye, Dex."
"Later, Crys."
And life began again as he used his machine to bring a picture to life onto the skin of another person in whatever form they wanted it to take. In this case, it was the rare, seldom seen Junonia Orithya butterfly of the Asian sub-continent that he was going to ink on a beautiful, somewhat introverted woman, the type that rarely, if ever, came into a shop like his.
He had to admit, he was impressed.
So much of his work was of some really stupid shit that people wanted inked in some ordinary places. Shit he could almost do with his eyes closed. Sometimes preferably with his eyes closed. But lots and lots of those stupid pieces inked in ordinary places were what paid his mortgage on both the shop and his three bedroom house.
"What's playing?" he heard her ask over the sound of the machine.
"Dave Matthews Band, why?"
"It's really good, isn't it?"
"You never heard DMB?" he asked, lifting the machine and swiping the residual blood and ink from her skin.
Skin almost too beautiful to mark.
He watched her shake her head then adjust her glasses.
"What? You've been in a Tibetan monastery for the last fifteen years?" he asked bending back towards his work.
"Practically," he heard her say as she removed her glasses entirely and tucked her head back into her folded arm.
Dex wasn't quite sure when he noticed it, but it became really clear that each time he put his gloved fingers on her, whether to stretch the skin so it wouldn't catch on the needles or even to hold her hip as he turned her back into place, she would get goose bumps.
And not the small kind that you get when you're chilly.
These were the large kind, the kind that take your breath away .
The kind that you got when you were turned on.
So Dex play
ed it.
Letting his fingers linger, dragging them as he wiped her skin, rubbing his hand on her lower back.
And, yep, each and every time he touched her, she broke out in goose bumps and her breath would hitch a bit.
Interesting.
"Okay, Babe. You're done."
"Already?" she asked lifting and tilting her head towards the hip he had been working on for nearly three hours.
"Yep. Wanna see?" he asked stripping off his latex gloves and moving the tray of ink caps away from her now that they were done.
He helped move her onto her back and held a hand out to help her off the chair, sneaking a quick peek at her breasts. Yep, nipples alert and ready and he saw that she was again covered in goose bumps.
Now that was hot.
He hadn't done anything that would have anyone thinking sex, but he knew enough about women to know she was into him.
Shake it off, man. She's a customer, he told himself.
Dex had, as usual, covered the fresh ink with a layer of ointment and kept his finger tucked into her pants as she swung her legs to the side and prepared to stand.
"Careful," he murmured and got caught in the snare of her eyes as she lifted herself up and away from the chair.
His heart did a heavy double beat when their eyes connected.
And just when was the last time that had fucking happened, huh?
She held her shirt up and he held the side of her pants down as they made their way outside the booth to the full length mirror on the side of the wall.
Benny was walking from the desk towards the back and stopped to admire the new ink on Leila's skin.
"Beauty, Dex," he rumbled and gave a nod to Leila.
"Oh my, " she said. "Even without the color, it's gorgeous, isn't it?"
Again, with no qualms whatsoever, and his eyes never leaving the image of her face in the mirror, replied, "Absolutely gorgeous."
Chapter Nine
I woke on Sunday morning with a smile on my lips and a song in my heart.
Dex.
His name is Dex.
His. Name. Is. Dex.
And he had marked me.
I carried his ink on my skin.
Juvenile? Perhaps.
Human Hieroglyphix - Dex & Leila Page 4
