Pole Dance (45 page)

Oh, shit.

*.*.*.*.*

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 he sounded like a dick even to his own ears.

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, no make-up, eyes slowly at him. From behind some fuckin' 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.

"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 before you leave. 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 into a cubicle, 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, "He's gonna do it, Leila."

His ears caught the beginning of a girly squeals of delight before the sound of the faucet cut them off.

He smiled at the sound.

*.*.*.*.*

"Okay, so here's what we're gonna do tonight. I've got a flash made of your picture, and it's a beauty. So I'm gonna transfer that onto your skin and then I'm gonna do the outline, right?"

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.

"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 grin as her blush crept up her face.

"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."

And 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, it was 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.

He felt his cock stir at the sight but shut that shit down immediately. He was a professional for God's sake.

Crys came by, purse and jacket in hand.

"You leavin'?" he asked checking his machine making sure all exposed parts were covered and that it ran with a gentle smooth hum.

"Yeah. 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 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 rare, somewhat shy 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 takes your breath away .

The kind that you got when you were turned on.

So Dex played 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 but he was very aware that they were the only two people in the now dark shop.

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 the last time
that
had fuckin' 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.

"Oh my, " she said. "Even without the color, it's stunning, isn't it?"

Again, with no qualms whatsoever, and his eyes never leaving the image of her face in the mirror, replied, "Absolutely gorgeous."