Tattooed Moon

by Tiana Laveen

  Maybe he is my type after all…

  After a few more minutes, she drifted away… She hadn’t even noticed she’d fallen asleep until he gently shook her awake.

  “Oh…” she moaned, coming to her senses. The snapping his gloves roused her the rest of the way. She watched him snatch them off and toss them in a nearby trashcan full of blood dabbled cotton and debris.

  “You’re all finished. Are you ready to see it?”

  “Yes!” She sat up, excited beyond compare, but then he gently wrapped his arms around her hips, shocking her as he spun her around so she could see better. She looked down at her arm, and then in the reflection and gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. She couldn’t help but tremble, as she was taken aback, coming undone.

  “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, her voice was muffled from her quaking palms. “It’s beautiful, Julian! It is even better than I thought it would be! I love it.”

  Before she knew it, she had the man in an embrace, pulling him to her partially exposed bosom that heaved out of her sports bra. His inebriating scent swarmed her senses, making her pussy clamp tight between her thighs. He seemed hesitant as she clutched him hard, but then, she felt his arms encircle her waist, holding her firm to his warm, hard frame. God, he felt so good, smelled so serene. Yeah, if serenity had a smell, he was it…

  Before she knew it, he kissed her cheek then took a few steps back.

  “I’m glad you like it, Milan. It’s a wonderful dedication to one of your life vessels.”

  “Life vessels? My mother… That’s beautiful, Julian.” She looked back at her arm, in awe of the exquisiteness of his creation. The damn yellow flower looked tangible. It looked as if someone, anyone, could reach out and touch it, as if she had freshly plucked it from a lush garden. The image of her mother’s profile made her heart flutter, and the scrabble pieces looked as if they were being tossed in midair—palpable, three-dimensional. He even detailed intricately designed wood grain on them…just…wow…

  Then, one minuscule element caught her eye that she hadn’t noticed previously—there were numbers at the bottom of the scrabble pieces. She squinted at them, trying to make sense of it.

  “It’s your birthday.” He offered. “You said your mother didn’t think she could have children, and you were a surprise; I imagine a pleasant surprise. I incorporated that in the illustration. The opera and yellow roses she loved, but I’m sure she loved you more than her own life itself. It was in the original design, but wasn’t as clearly drawn. If you don’t like it, I can cover it up with shading.”

  “No, no! I love it! I can’t say that enough; I love the whole thing!”

  He nodded, looking rather humble as he began to clean up the place. Grabbing her shirt, she put it back on but left her arm out of her sleeve. He turned the music off, and moved around, sweeping and tossing items.

  “Can I help you?” she asked as she leaned against the bench and carefully dug into her purse looking for a stick of gum or a mint.

  “No, you just relax. I need to cover that up, so don’t go moving around just yet. I just wanted to get the rest of this stuff up over here.” He placed the broom against the wall and had her sit on the bench again. Taking his sweet time, he delicately layered a bandage over it.

  “This is actually a wound, it needs to heal.”

  Just like grief… She smiled inwardly at the analogy she’d formed in her mind.

  “I am going to give you a bag with what I call an aftercare kit. It will have gauze, cotton balls and medicated pads for swelling and itching. I also suggest taking any over the counter pain medications you prefer if you find that it is a bit more uncomfortable than you can tolerate. You could always use natural pain management as well, but the choice is yours. In the next few days, it will scab over, after which you can remove the gauze and not re-wrap it. Whatever you do, don’t pick at it. Let it heal on its own; our bodies know how to repair themselves if we just give them the space and time. If you run into anything that worries you, please call me, okay?”

  He looked into her eyes, sincerity deep within him bubbling at the surface.

  “Yes, I will.” She ran her hand over her face, catching any tears that tried to come after she’d already relinquished that episode.

  He unlocked and opened the door, and much to Milan’s surprise, the place was completely empty. She reached for her cellphone and looked at the time.

  “Oh my God, it’s like two in the morning! I thought I’d only been here a few hours.”

  “Nope. It was quittin’ time a while ago.” He walked into the lobby area, checking to make sure everything was picked up. The Open sign was shut off, the receptionist station clean and clear, and no one loitered about. It was just the two of them…

  “This was four hundred dollars well spent.” She set her purse on a nearby stool and removed her wallet. “You really do some impressive work and now I see why everyone wants you.”

  “Not everyone wants me…”

  She paused, then decided to ignore his comment, though she sensed the note of flirtation loud and clear.

  “Okay, here you go.” She handed him her credit card, daring to look him in the eye.

  She could hear her own accelerated breathing, especially now that the place seemed like dead space. No music, no laughing, no candles and incense and people moseying about in the shop. It was just she and Julian. The man rang her up, then handed her a yellow carbon receipt to sign.

  “This says…two hundred.” She stared at it for a short time, then looked at him curiously. “Previously, you told me that it was four hundred.” She held the pen in her hand, prepared to sign, but hesitated.

  “Call it a discount.” He cleared his throat, ran his finger over the bridge of his nose and leaned against the wall partition behind him as if waiting for a bus.

  “You’ll never make any money this way…” she teased as she leaned over and signed the receipt.

  “I don’t give most people half off discounts, but for you, I’ll make an exception.”

  Once again, she debated responding or not. She handed him the slip and he furnished her a copy.

  “Well, thank you. And…thanks for the outstanding work you did…and the conversation, too.” She meant every word she uttered as she placed her purse over her shoulder. “Ouuuch!”

  He grinned. “Yeah, you need to be careful with purses ’nd such the next few days. Keep the area clear.”

  She nodded woefully in understanding, then turned towards the front door to leave.

  After she took a few steps, he called her name.

  “Milan…” His voice carried throaty and rich, smooth like black, imported coffee with a dash of something cool and minty. A voice steeped in a mature notion, like the motherfucker knew exactly what to do and how to do it…and that made her pussy sigh. She paused, her damn heart beating hard within her.

  “Shit, what do I have to lose?” he asked aloud, as if sharing his innermost secret thoughts with an invisible best friend.

  She turned towards him and caught him shrugging. Then, he reached behind himself and loosened the thick, black ball of hair, allowing his tresses to fall against his shoulders like liberated waves released from a broken dam. The long hair now framed part of his face, so unbelievably dark, the locks shone almost like velvety royal blue. With his slightly tanned skin, that dark hair made a stark contrast against his flesh. He was naturally a bit Goth in appearance, yet soaked in the richness of the Deep South. What a combination…

  Does he dye his hair? I can’t imagine that he does. Slight highlights in some areas…His hair is even darker than mine…

  He fidgeted about while she studied him, waiting, for she knew he was about to say something to her that could change everything all at once. His gaze turned hooded, while the whites of his eyes seemed more brilliant than freshly fallen snow on the tip of a diamond. Before her stood a man with broad shoulders, created from God’s vivid imagination. His penetrating cerulean eyes unsettled her, t
heir kind of blue you didn’t see very often, but all in all, the man’s sexy meter flew off the motherfucking chart. He was oddly gorgeous. Enigmatically divine. No denying it. He embodied eccentric sexiness to the tenth degree and beyond.

  “I wanted to know, if I could…” He slicked his tongue over his bottom lip as he casually rubbed his hands together, “…take you out sometime?”

  She stood there, unable to stop her mouth from curling upward in a rascally grin. She waited for a moment, pondering over his invitation, drawing closer to the words as if they invited her to dance.

  “Is that why I got the discount?” she joked, causing him to laugh lightly, cross his arms and look down at his seemingly brand new red and white Pumas before he set his sexy gaze back upon her.

  “Maybe, but anyway…” His stare narrowed as he shoved his hands into his slouchy jean pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m attracted to you, like I already confessed, and I hope you wore that get up,”—he pointed casually to it, a smirk draped across his face, “because you might have at least a slight interest in me, too.” Now, he was offering that sexy ass smile again. She wished he’d stop it. It made her damn pussy pulsate like a Bayou frog’s throat.

  “I did.”

  “I know you did.” He cocked his head to the side and moved his jaws a bit back and forth, as if he were chewing gum. “Glad you finally admitted it… So, what do you say? A date with a hippie? It just might be fun.” He smirked, rocking back and forth a bit harder now.

  “They say Jesus was a hippie, and as you know, I like him and accept him as my personal Lord and savior…so maybe I can like you, too.”

  At this, he burst out laughing so hard, he turned red. “Normally, I would scoff at such things, but seeing as it is working in my favor, hell, I welcome it with both arms. Alright, cool… Oh, I almost forgot!” He shot his finger up in the air as if to say, ‘One moment, please.’

  After disappearing for moments behind the dark red curtain of the little shop, he returned and handed her eleven yellow roses.

  “The twelfth one is in your hair.” He pointed to it, reminding her of its presence.

  “Oh my goodness. These are so nice, thank you!” She sniffed them, taking in their aromatic bouquet. “A dozen roses, how nice…you’re kinda sweet.” She winked at him as she gathered them in her arms.

  “I didn’t get you twelve roses because it is customary. I got you twelve roses because your birthday is in the twelfth month of the year. If you’d been born in July, you would’ve received seven, and so on and so forth.”

  “So not only do I have to hear about astrology some more, I have to hear about numerology, too?” She laughed. “I don’t think I’m going to survive this date with you, Julian.”

  “You’ll endure it, and I think you’ll actually like it…maybe even love it.” He winked. “Now, let’s make arrangements.” He rubbed his hands together again, this time as if he were about to plop down and feast on something extravagant and mouth watering. “You can either meet me here at the shop, or I can pick you up. I’m free Wednesday night, at least I am now.” He grinned.

  “Hmmm, okay. I can do Wednesday. You already have my number…”

  “I do.” He removed his cellphone from his pocket. “But give it to me again and I will put it in my phone.”

  They exchanged numbers and set a time.

  “Well, I guess that’ll be all. See you on Wednesday,” she said, getting a whiff of his cologne as he drew closer, stood beside her for a brief moment, then breezed by like a ghost. Gripping the chrome locks, he removed the chains from her voluntary imprisonment, allowing her to be released into the night.

  “You’ll hear from me before then.” Straightening, he stood close to her, so close, she could smell his warm, cinnamon-scented breath.

  I sure hope so.

  She grinned and stepped over the threshold, only for the man to pull her arm, bringing her abruptly back to him, making her yo-yo and stumble clumsily against his chest.

  Shit, he smells so good…

  “Can I have a kiss before you go?”

  “…We haven’t even had a first date, and I—”

  Stifling her protests, he pressed his lips firmly into hers, and moaned as he gripped her tightly to his stiffened body. Upon contact, her body responded instantly and her libido flew through every active cell inside of her physique. Her damn groin was at it again, too—flipping, tossing, making waves. The kiss was full of pressure, tight, sensual, and dare she say it—devoted, as if the man were making love to her with his mouth, and his tongue hadn’t even dared to leave its hot, wet confines. He hooked one of his hands behind her neck, forcing her into him even more so, not leaving room for the air, the night nor a thought to form and process. It felt like some sort of tantric oral reflexology, which made her melt into him even further, lifeless as she was.

  He finally released her.

  “Alright, now you’re free to go.” He closed the door in her face, locked it and disappeared like a cocky phantom.

  She stood there for a moment, staring at the damn closed door with the ‘Closed’ sign swinging against it from his abrupt departure. She didn’t know rather to laugh or scream as she touched her mouth, his kiss still searing her lips as she gently ran her fingertips along them.

  Damn…

  She savored the faint taste of cinnamon as she slicked her tongue along her bottom lip, taking Julian in, tasting him, absorbing him whole…

  Mmmm… what a kisser…

  ‡

  Chapter Five

  It was five minutes after six, and the street corner restaurant had a rustic charm as it ushered in the thickening dinner crowd. The dusky brick building looked as if it had once been something else, something long forgotten. An oval, weatherworn sign, or possibly recently distressed emblem, hung from a rusted, iron rod high above, wedged between two darkened, dusty windows that hadn’t seen a bottle of Windex in a mighty long time. The sign read, ‘The Grit.’ Milan took a deep breath and waited as Julian opened the door to the establishment, allowing her to enter. She was immediately taken aback by the pungent, delicious aromas swirling abound, infused with paprika and peppercorn. The small tables were full of white people smiling and laughing, their forks busy and their mouths just as hardworking as they labored over their food and delighted each other with conversation.

  Vegans and vegetarians…Oh joy…

  Julian moved closer to her, delicately placing his arm around her waist as he bent forward to speak to the hostess in a hushed tone.

  “Table for two, please.”

  The woman nodded and negotiated the crowd and oddly placed tables, while Milan and her tattooed friend trailed close behind. He’d asked her where she’d like to go, and she made the mistake of saying ‘Surprise me.’ Nevertheless, she tried to stay optimistic, though it was a definite challenge. Soon they were seated, and menus placed before them.

  “Now.” He opened his tariff, his eyes quickly scanning it as if he knew exactly what was there, but was simply doing his checks and balances. “I am assuming you aren’t vegetarian or vegan. Am I right?”

  ‘Sail’ by Awolnation played low in the background…

  “I eat meat.” She crossed her legs and wrinkled her nose at the word, ‘tofu’ in one of the menu descriptions. Tofu was synonymous with Styrofoam, but that simply wasn’t fair. Styrofoam probably had more flavor.

  “Uhhh huh.” That notorious smirk of his sneaked onto his face as he chewed his jaw, making it seem as if a toothpick should have been bobbing out the side of it. “I bet you will like this, Milan. The food here is really good.”

  “I’ll try. I’m open to new things.”

  Just as she finished her statement, he looked up at her, and something she couldn’t quite make out had made his smile fade. He kept a pleasant countenance, though, as he hooked his gaze with hers.

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “When was the last time you had meat? Oh…thank you,” she said as some
one came up and handed them two waters, and him an iced tea as well. He smoothed his napkin out with both hands, as if it were important to him that it stay tidy for his glass to be set upon it.

  What a strange man.

  “Over ten years ago. It was a burger.”

  “You say it like you remember it fondly. Did you give that burger a name?” She teased as she crossed her ankles, settling a bit more into her seat.

  He grinned a tad wider. “I didn’t know it would be my last burger. I bought it, went home, ate it and then stayed up all night to party with friends. I saw a documentary the following day about meat production. I’d already been contemplating to stop eating it, but that pretty much sealed the deal for me. I don’t like the ill treatment of the animals in the slaughterhouses; it’s unsanitary, and I don’t find it necessary to eat it. Not trying to tell others what to do though. Just for me, I’m not interested anymore. I feel a hell of a lot better, too.”

  “Hmmmm.” She took another sip of her water through the black straw, leaving her red lipstick laden kiss upon the tip. “So, you’re cool dating a person that eats meat?”

  He shrugged and looked back down at his menu. “Honestly, I’d prefer that my future girlfriend, whomever it may be, not eat it. The reason being is, I don’t want to be in a position to try and force anyone to do something for me, against their will, just to please me. I’d want them to do it because they want to. These things should happen naturally, through observation and education, you know?”

  Milan nodded.

  “I don’t want her to feel pressured, I want it to be sincere. If I fall in love with someone that eats meat, I just do, but it would be easier for me if they didn’t, is all. Plus, sex is better with vegetarians. One day I’d like to prove that to you.”

  Milan sprayed water out of her mouth until it landed on his menu. As if nothing much had happened, he stifled a broad smile and gently dabbed at his menu with the napkin he’d just ironed out with his hands.