Called by the Bear 1-3 (2 page)

C
arly

T
he dank smell
of earth is around me, and soft moss cradles my prone body. Daylight filters through fir trees like tiny daggers. I shiver in the cold. The tattoo on the inside of my wrist is burning. I'm afraid it's infected, and I lift my arm above me to look. The ink is raised, and it's pulsing as if blood is pumping fiercely to my hand. Confused, I touch it. The moment I do, an electric shock of desire floods my body.

I stroke lightly, and it's as if I'm pleasuring every sensitive spot I have. Oh God, this is glorious. I writhe on the forest floor, and the feel of the moist sponginess against my skin makes me realize I'm naked. My panting fills my ears. I move the tender flesh of my tattoo toward my mouth to lick. The wet, rough sensation of my tongue takes me to the edge of climax.

An acrid musky odor pulls me away for a moment. It should be unpleasant, but I'm drawn to it. Raspy breathing that is not my own startles me. I open my eyes to sharp white teeth glistening. Fear laces my orgasm as it builds. The teeth sink into the flesh of my breast as I scream in ecstasy.

My cry wakes me.
Did I just have a sex dream about an animal?
The light clicks when I turn it on, and I inspect my tattoo. Still tender, it looks normal. Only, I'm not. I'm a freak that gets off on bad furry breath and sharp teeth biting my boob.
Great.
I'm tempted to lick my tattoo to see if it really does feel good, but it's unsanitary, and I don't want to risk the germs.

Shaken by my nightmare, I'm wide awake. I stumble in the darkness toward the kitchen. Slamming my shin on the coffee table, I drop to the floor in pain. A wave of nausea rises, but I swallow it down and place my hands on the rough shag carpet to stand. The memory of soft fur against my naked body and the softness in my hands comes back to me. My insides flutter.
Wow, I'm losing my mind.

When I get to the kitchen, I find hot chocolate in the cupboard. Brown powder spills out when I rip open the packet. After I pour the remains in a mug, I add water and stir before placing it in the microwave. The buttons beep in staccato as I set it to timed cook. Hopping up on the counter to sit, I open the cabinet and pull out a package of cookies. Grabbing a handful, I put the rest back so I don't devour them all.

Nibbling on buttery shortbread, I look down at my pale legs. Shapely calves are my best feature, but unfortunately they lead to fleshy thighs, full hips, and a soft middle that manages to muffin top even over my loose jeans. I'm fat, and hot guys like Ray don't date girls like me. Shame washes over me when I remember that they do if she gives good head. Willing to suck him off on command, I was desperate to keep him. So desperate I refused to see he was a player until walking in on him left me no choice.

The whir of the microwave stops when it chimes. I take the mug out, and my spoon clinks as I stir to dissolve lumps of chocolate.
If I could live anywhere else, where would I go?
The scent of cut pine tweaks at my memory as if to answer. It might be time to leave the bikini-clad world of Venice, California, where I'm reminded of my ample curves daily, and move to someplace where sweaters hide my rolls and accentuate my assets. The mountains.

Grabbing the package of cookies from the cabinet and my mug, I return to the living room and boot up my laptop. My dreams are something I’ve learned to listen too. It’s not that they tell me straight out what’s going to happen, but they point me in the right direction.

The bright light of the computer screen flashes in my eyes and eerily glows on my hands as I type. Google is my friend, and I research mountain towns with tattoo shops. Colorado is my first choice. I imagine being wrapped in a warm fleece blanket and sipping hot cocoa by a fire. I bookmark shops in ski towns in the Vail area and make plans to compile a folder of my flash.

I snort thinking of the dick pics of my work all over the Internet. Definitely porn, but it might be my ticket. Maybe all I need is a penis business card, because something about a tattoo-less ink slinger makes shop owners nervous. Okay, not so tattoo-less any more.

Rough crumbs stick to my fingers when I reach in to find I finished off the bag of cookies. It's just as well. I'm tired and really should grab a couple hours of sleep before work. But I’m afraid of my nightmares.

I walk toward the garbage can under my sink then pour the cookie remains into my mouth. Movement catches my eye, and my heartbeat pounds in my ears when I turn quickly to find nothing.

I can’t help it. I run as if the devil’s chasing me and burrow under my covers as if I’m a little girl keeping the monster away. I clutch my extra pillow and fall asleep.

S
urprisingly
, my dreams do not include furry animals, and I wake rested and armed with a plan. My coffee cup clatters in the sink full of dishes when I deposit it, and I grab my phone to check my calendar for today's appointments. I'm booked solid but can stay late to gather what I need.

The idea of leaving clients in the lurch again scratches at guilt. Even more so, I feel bad about leaving my best friend, Sierra. Being a female tattoo artist is tough, and I wish I could keep her safe from the likes of men like Ray.

I don't look forward to telling her. I picture her eyes widening in her face, which is framed by jet-black hair cut in a bob. Sierra has talent. An art school drop-out, that girl can draw and has a modern style heavy on the florals that women love. Eager to prove herself, she practices with every spare moment she gets when working the desk.

I’ve made my way to the bathroom, and mint stings my mouth as I brush my teeth and take a good look at myself in the mirror. In a baggy T-shirt and loose jeans, I've stopped trying. I should do something about that. My father's voice plays in my head.
You're going to be full of curves and soft places, just like your mother. Ignore those skinny girls because you're a knockout.

I whip off my tee as I walk to my bedroom, and it lands on my bed with a
whoosh
. I slip into a tight cotton tank top instead. I'm so not thrilled with the roll around my middle that shows now, but guys will be looking at my large tits anyway, and maybe they won't notice.

I grab a claw-like clip and return to the bathroom to tame my wavy hair with a loose up-do. Strands curl softly around my face. Smiling at myself in the mirror for the first time in weeks, I'm happy to go to work today. I rub my tat lightly with a finger, and my smile widens as a twinge in my core makes me shudder. I envision my dream guy behind me, giving me a smoldering stare that captures mine and feeds my desire. It makes my smile grow.

S
ierra

T
he strong smell
of fuck-me perfume floats toward my nose when a spray-tanned girl enters Tattoo Junkie. Skinny as a rail with fake hair, she's got to be a skank. The way she looks me over with disgust makes me hate her. I'm her worst nightmare with pale skin, sleeves of tattoos, and flesh on my bones.

"Is Ray here?" Even her voice is fake with its singsong lilt.

I hop off the gray reception counter in the almost sterile waiting area. "You must be his two o'clock. Leesa?"

She giggles. "That's me."

I walk her over to his tattoo room and watch Ray's face light up. A lanky attractive guy, right now he has a predatory look in his eyes that makes me think he wants to poke her with more than a needle.

I do a mental eye roll. "Leesa is here for you."

He stands and flexes a bit under his tight tee. Yeah, he plans to do her if she'll let him. What a fucktard. Carly will be here any minute, and she doesn't need to hear that. They broke up a couple months ago, and I can tell she still has a thing for him. Of course, hearing him grunting like a pig wouldn't be bad, because he never stopped screwing around when they dated. The reminder might help her get over him.

I hop back up on the counter with my sketchbook and start to draw when the door opens.

Like it's a beacon, the first thing I see is the tattoo on the inside of Carly’s wrist. It shocks me because she swore she would remain clean as a whistle until the right one called to her. "Whoa! You finally got one." My black heels click when I hop down to grab her wrist.

When I inspect it, my brow furrows.
This is what I've been trying to draw.
"This is a sweet design, but I'm kind of freaked out right now."

"Why?"

I don't let go of her hand when she tries to pull away. "Because I've been dreaming about it, but I couldn't draw it. You nailed it. It's your work, right?"

I stroke the tattoo, and Carly yanks her arm away. Her eyes are wide, and her cheeks redden.
What is she embarrassed about?
I'm the one getting off on furry things in my dreams. She answers. "Yeah, I did it. Tell me about your dream."

Carly is probably a little too vanilla to understand, so I don't get into the sex part. "Um, the image just appears." I wave my hand in the air. "Kind of like Batman's signal." I chuckle and then say, "I can't really describe it, but it sticks with me, and I keep trying to draw it."

"Yeah, it was--"

We're interrupted by Ray opening his door to let a flushed-faced Leesa walk out of his room. His shit-eating grin tells me he got what he wanted, and I grimace. He says, "Ladies, it's a beautiful day for body art, isn't it?"

A low sound of disgust escapes me. "It sure is. Did you see Carly's tattoo?"

Ray cocks his head at the idea of her getting one and asks, "Where?"

Carly lifts her wrist to show him. He and the girl both squint at her arm. Ray snorts. "Invisible, nice."

Strange, don't they see it?

The girl grins and says, "Like mine, right?"

Ray pulls her against his body. "I'll tattoo you like that anytime, babe."

Gross. The girl kisses him and walks out with a wiggle.

Carly seems preoccupied and puts her wrist in front of Ray's face to ask, "You really don't see anything?"

"No, Carly." He shakes his head and returns to his workspace.

She turns to me with a frown.

I say, "I know, right? That just adds to the freakiness." Carly's a diamond in the rough. Sexy curves she hasn't learned to love are usually hidden under dumpy clothes. But today it looks like she made a bit of an effort. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "You look pretty."

"Thanks. You look amazing as usual."

I smooth out my vintage dress that pumps up my real boobs. "Trying to land a man." I sigh. "It's been a while."

"I hear you." She moves into her room, and the metal drawer clangs as she opens it to set up for her first client.

I walk over to the doorway. "Carly?"

"Yeah?"

"I hate to ask, but--"

"You want one too, don't you?" She knows. Maybe she does have the same dream.

I tap a red fingernail on the desktop because this isn't like the other tattoos I've gotten. "More than want, I think I need it."

Carly nods. "I think you do too." She grins at me, because I have two full sleeves and there is no room for more on my arms. "But where?"

The answer comes to me as if I've known it all along. At the same time, we both say, "Boob." It makes me wonder if she dreams about teeth biting her breast too. We both grin, and I hear the door open with a customer.

Carly says, "Later." And I go out to greet her client.

At the end of our shift, I return to Carly's room to disassemble her machine. She had me assist and fill in her outlines tonight. After all this time I thought I would be thrilled to take the next step toward my art. But it felt flat, and I wonder why.

Carly asks, "Do you have plans tonight?"

"I might go down to Ruby's for a drink. Want to come?"

She smiles slowly. "Maybe, but I could do your tattoo now if you want."

Excitement pulses through me. "Yes, please."

She pats the client chair. "Have a seat."

T
he smell
of cigarettes and other smokables greet us as we approach Ruby's. A typical dive, the drinks are cheap, and Ruby works behind the bar most nights. When she sees us walk through the door, she waves. I come here often, but Carly hasn't been out since her breakup with Ray.

Ruby's deep scratchy voice says, "Carly, it's been a dog's age. Get yourself over here."

Carly quickly slides onto a well-worn stool as I saunter slowly over, making sure every man in the place can see the swing of my hips exaggerated by the swish of my skirt. I plan to get laid tonight and know just how to make it happen.

"What'll it be girls?"

I answer, "Martinis, with tequila."

Ruby nods, and ice clatters into a tumbler she clunks down on the bar. I twirl my ass around to face the pool tables. Booths line the walls, and the odor of fried food makes my stomach grumble. I cross my legs to flash some thigh and bounce a foot as I check out the patrons.

Carly asks, "Ruby, can I get an order of nachos please?" The idea of gooey cheese is tempting, especially since the men in this place aren't.

Ruby says, "You got it." The clink of two martini glasses hitting the wood bar makes me turn back around. They're filled to the brim, and because Ruby always makes us extra, we both slurp down our drinks to make room for her to pour the remains.

Ruby winks at me. "See anything you like?"

"Not tonight. I think I'll eat nachos too. Make them a large, please."

"Done." Ruby turns to the computer screen to enter the order.

I drum my nails along the base of my glass, and the tinkling sound is pleasant. A yawn escapes, and I blink my eyes in an effort to wake up.

Carly says, "You did well tonight. I think you're ready to start taking clients."

My pride puffs up a bit, but I think she has an ulterior motive. "Thanks. But I get the feeling you're trying to tell me something. You were working awfully hard to make sure your regulars like me." I take a big swig of my sugary lime-laced drink and let the Patron warm its way down my throat.

"Yeah, I'm thinking about leaving."

"Why? I thought you loved tattooing?" I tap my hand lightly to the beat of the music. I'm antsy about her leaving because I've been feeling the same way. I think my days working for a snake like Ray are numbered.

"I meant moving kind of leave." The look on her face says she's more than thinking about it.

"Oh." I grip her hand and flip it over to reveal her tattoo. I trace the area around the design, and she trembles, making me stop. "It's calling you, isn't it?"

Carly pulls her arm away. She frowns as she glances down at it. "I don't know. I just have this need to move."

"To the mountains, right?" Carly's eyes widen in recognition at my words. They're blue and stormy looking tonight.

"Yes." She shakes her head. "This is insane. I've always lived here. Do you think I'm crazy?"

"No." Because I want to go too.

Ruby announces, "Food." A big plate heaped with tortilla chips, meat, and veggies thumps before us. "Need another drink?"

Carly snitches a black olive and says, "Yes, please."

A sudden thought occurs to me, and I grab Carly's wrist. "Ruby, what do you see here?"

Ruby leans close and flips her glasses down off her head onto her nose. "Nothing, should I?"

Carly yanks her hand away and says, "Nope, Sierra's just trying to make a point. Don't mind us."

She glares at me until Ruby walks away and says, "We're the only ones that can see it."

“I think it’s a gift.”

“Stuff like that doesn’t happen to me.”

I bite into salty beef and pepper jack cheese. Her words make me sad and wish I could make her see how awesome she is. I speak over a mouthful of food. “Something already did.”

I lose Carly for a moment as she traces the tribal swirls of her paw print. She takes a big swig of her drink and empties her glass. "Ruby, I need another, please."

She's freaked out. I sigh. "You can get as drunk as you want, but it's not going to change what's happened. We've been chosen, Carly." I glance into the mirror behind the bar and notice it’s too dark to see myself.