by Penny Blush
Back at Barber Shop Ink, Memphis still wasn’t in so Jax gave me a proper tour of the shop and explained the different services that they offered. Barber Shop Ink wasn’t just all about tattoos they also did body piercing and modifications.
I'm not going to lie; I was super excited when I saw how chaotic, cluttered and unorganised the place was. Jax was right, I love cleaning and organising. Cleaning a disorganised space was like crack to me, it gave me a high, and they weren't kidding when they said that this place was a mess. It was a total nightmare, and they desperately needed my help. I was in my happy place as I walked around the shop with my tablet taking photos, making notes and lists.
The shop had good bones. I could see how it could look once a clear identity was established. At present, the shop was a little split personality. But with the vision I had in my head to redesign the layout so that it was set out more practically for a tattoo shop, it had the potential to be amazing. The barber shop needed a makeover while still paying homage to Memphis's grandfather and its past incarnation as a working barber shop. I just hoped that he would let me do it.
I had decided that the chaos that was the stockroom would be my first challenge. I was standing in the middle of a sea of boxes piled haphazardly at varying heights, trying to figure out where to start. I decided that cataloguing all the stock on the shelves in front of me before moving on to sorting through the boxes was a good place to start as any when a familiar rumbling voice washed over me.
“Excuse me, ma’am, this is a staff only area.”
Memphis.
“Oh hey,” I replied, not bothering to turn around, adding further to my notes.
Memphis obviously didn't recognise me, not that he would. We hadn't known each other for long enough for him to remember my voice and he'd only seen the dishevelled version of me but his voice, I knew. His voice I would know anywhere, it was like smoke and warm chocolate. His voice was something physical, well it was to me anyway. When he spoke, I could feel it all the way into my bones.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” there was a subtle command in his deep voice.
Holy Guacamole on toast! The things that man’s voice did to me. I still didn't know what he looked like but if he voice was anything to go by I had a feeling my eyes were going to be just as affected as my ears.
I didn't want to look at him, I know it was irrational, but I didn't want to spoil the fantasy that had been building in my head. I didn't want it to be a Beauty and the Beast-type situation where the fantasy was better than reality. We all know that in the Disney movie Beast was way hotter than when he transformed into the prince. But life was not a child's cartoon, this is reality and hotness aside, he's my potential boss/landlord, so his looks should make no difference. But still, I didn’t want to shatter the illusion. Come on self; you can't go around not looking at the man for the rest of your life. No time like the present.
Holy-fucking-fuck-balls!!
Thank you, sweet baby Jesus!
Getting my first real, up close, in broad daylight look at Memphis, so many thoughts and feelings went slamming through me and disappointment was not one of them. What I did feel was shocked, happy, awed and lust. So, much lust. I'm surprised that my panties didn't immediately burst into flames.
To truly appreciate a man like Memphis Blue, you must start from the ground up. Big, long black booted feet had a solid hold on the ground. Dark denim jeans that sat low on his hips encased strong powerful thickly muscled legs. Hmmm, I wonder if he has one of those abdominal V Adonis Belt things going on, that led down into those deliciously low-slung jeans.
Memphis was standing in the doorway of the stockroom taking up the entire space. He stood with his tattooed arms folded across his broad chest, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bulging against his tight black Barber Shop Ink T-Shirt. His chest and his biceps had that tee stretched within an inch of its tolerance.
Sigh … I want to be that tee, stretched all over his broad shoulders, wide chest, and thick biceps covered in all those beautifully colourful tattoos. I wanted to see how decorated with tattoos his body was. I wanted to trace those tattoos with my tongue.
Good Lord! Was I really, that hard up? I mean it had only been a few months since I had broken up with Thomas and thinking about it now, it had been more than a few months since we had had sex. To be truthful, it has been forever since we had done anything that even resembled sex; well anything that was more than some PG13 heavy petting. Anytime things got even remotely interesting it wouldn’t take long before Thomas announced that he was tired or had to go. Yeah right! He was too tired because he had used up all his energy fucking Donavan!
But I digress.
I am not short by any means; I’m tall for a woman, just shy of six-foot but Memphis, now that man was tall. He was towering his head almost reached the top of the door frame. He had to be close to six-foot-six, and his height made me feel small and feminine in comparison. Not that I have ever resented my stature, but there is just something completely foot-poppingly romantic about being able to look up into a man’s eyes.
“Hey, Memphis, how are you doing?" I asked, looking anywhere but at his face. “I’ve started already. I hope you don’t mind.”
I waved my tablet at him. I looked up but still not at his face. I'm sure his face is lovely, but I mean the span of his chest, Holy Hot Damn!
Broad, so very broad, his shoulders touched the sides of the door frame. Wasn’t there a saying about the size of a man's chest and the size of his...? I only just managed to catch myself before I looked at his crotch.
“You umm …. Weren’t kidding, were you when you said that you need help.”
Holy quivering lady parts Batman!
My God, Memphis is an absolute mountain of a man, all big, strong, powerful and swoon-worthy. Big old mountain man that’s what I thought when I looked at him. I want to climb that mountain and run my fingers through his hair.
Boss! I thought mentally shaking myself. Memphis is your new BOSS and potential landlord, you need to remember that. He is not a hot sexy Mountain Man carnival ride. Though, I mean boy do-I ever want a ride. I really, really want a turn on that carnival ride. I’d ride it and ride again and again until I’ve used up all my tokens and then I want to ride again.
Holy-Thor-tastic! He was the complete package. The height, the arms, the hair!
STOP. IT!
SNAP OUT OF IT!
There was a look on his face before the clouds of confusion cleared, and recognition hit.
“Hedge?”
“Hey,” I smiled, finally looking at his face and sighed.
Please tell me that sigh was not audible!
I wasn’t close enough to see the colour of his eyes, but I could tell that they were bright and full of mischief. I couldn’t help but notice his gaze taking in my bare legs roaming up my body, lingering on my breasts.
I’m not vain by any means, but I know that I am an attractive woman. I am well acquainted with being ogled by men, but when Memphis was the one doing the ogling, there was a heat to it that went straight to my core, making me blush. Slightly mortified that I was blushing like a teenager, I looked back down at the tablet in my hand suddenly very interested in my lists.
“I’m sorry,” he said sounding a little stunned. “I didn't recognise you with clothes on." If not for his beard, I'm sure I would have seen him blush. “Err sorry, that's not what I meant," he said sheepishly, running his hand through the back of his hair. "I just meant that the last time I saw you, you were being swallowed by men's clothing and you know you didn't look ..."
“Human?” I laughed. “It’s okay I get it. I wish I could have made a better first impression,” it was my turn to be sheepish. “I was not at my best. I’m sorry for being such a brat and rude yesterday.”
We just stood there staring at each other for a moment, and I took full advantage.
Memphis. Sigh! ... Memphis Blue, holy hot damn!
God, this man is stunning, in a ruggedly-ha
ndsome- manly-take- charge and able-to-tear-a-tree-out-of-the-ground-with-his-bare-hands kind of way. I have never thought beards as something to be considered sexy, but on Memphis Blue, it was a good look.
His beard was the same light brown colour as his hair, with a slight tinged of red through it. It was a little overgrown but not in a messy, shaggy way. If I had my tools, I could do a little beard-scaping for him. I had the sudden urge to run my fingers through it. God help me, I want to feel his beard and not just in my hands but to feel it on my skin. Would it be soft and silky or rough and rugged? Great, now I was picturing him standing in the woods outside a log cabin in an open flannelette shirt, sweat glistening on his chest, beside a pile of hand-cut wood. An axe slung over his broad toned shoulder, sawdust covering his well-worn jeans and sprinkled through his beard.
Holy-Hell! Lumbersexual is a thing people.
“So,” I started, clearing my throat bringing my thoughts back around to the business at hand. I know whose business I’d like to have in my hand, I sniggered to myself.
OH, DANG IT STOP!
My eyes moved up to study his face. Full sensual lips, high angular cheekbones, a straight Roman nose and a strong square jaw, rounded everything out and dialled the hotness level up to eleven. Oh, my God, I am so freaking sexually charged right now there was no way I could look at his eyes for fear that my ovaries would explode! I need to get my hormones under control before I walk over there and start humping his leg.
"Umm, so I've already made a head start on what I think needs to be done around here and where I believe we should start," I said holding up my tablet, "would you like to see?"
Memphis cleared his throat, shuffling his feet, “So are you taking the job?”
"You might want to see what I've come up with first. You know before you commit to me.”
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Hedgy-Mc-Awkward.
Gah, when did I become so weird? I am not a teenage girl with braces, pimples and glasses going all gooey because a cute boy smiled at me. I am strong, independent and in control woman who knows how to talk to boys. The thing is Memphis is most definitely not a boy. Memphis is one hundred percent, pure Grade-A, manly man meat.
“I’m pretty sure that I could handle you,” he replied smirking, breaking me out of my thoughts again.
“I’m sure you could,” my mouth said before consulting with my brain.
Oh, My God, have aliens hijacked my brain!
Why am I acting so freaking weird?
Wait, hang on a minute is he flirting with me?
Am I flirting with him!?
Did this room just become super tiny?
Who turned the temperature up in here?
Mentally slapping myself for what felt like the hundredth time in ten minutes, be freaking professional!
Job
Boss
Apartment
Landlord
I looked up at hotness personified and pulled up my big girl panties – The lead lined ones that protect my lady parts from the nuclear level hotness that is currently radiating from Memphis – and acted professional-ish.
"Umm, so, yeah, do you want to go into the kitchen or wherever and go over everything? You should go over everything; first, I think. So, that you know everything, you know so you can see if we're on the same page." I mentally face-palmed myself, what is with my rambling dorkishness?
I'm certain I heard Memphis mumble, "I'm a thousand percent certain we are,” before he cleared his throat saying, “yes, sure sounds good,” before slowly raking his eyes over my body again.
"After you," I say, raising my hand in the direction of the door, being gracious and polite offering for him to lead the way. There was no ulterior motive to my politeness. Yeah right!
What? I want to see if the view from behind was just as good as from the front. Annnd it totally was.
Holy-Buns-of-Steel-Batman!
Even in the dark jeans; That Ass! I couldn't help but pat myself down looking for a coin to see if his ass was so tight that I could literally bounce a coin off it! Damn this hipster length singlet top for not having pockets and damn me for not having coins on me! Mental note to self ALWAYS have coins on your person when around Memphis.
In the kitchen, I decided that the best course of action was to sit as far away from Memphis as I could get. I sat down on the other side of the tiny table so that I could get some distance between myself and the overwhelming magnetic pull that was Memphis. Changing to business mode, I started explaining what I had discovered so far.
"First of all, I just wanted to reiterate that I am an obsessive-compulsive organiser. I make lists then sub-lists and spreadsheets and colour code everything."
“Okay, go on,” Memphis said slowly.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Why was he staring at me like I'm a crazy person?
"You already said that you're a Virgo, so I get that you're hyper organised," he said, shrugging like it's no big thing.
“I don’t think you get it. It is way more intense than that," I said, moving back to my tablet. "I have some basics sorted out that will address some of the issues that will be quick fixes, but I'll have more of a concrete plan sorted once I download all of this to my laptop and have access to all my other programs."
“Okay, fair enough, it’s like a rough sketch.”
I tilted my head in question, not getting his meaning.
“When someone wants a tattoo that’s not a standard design, you know not one that’s on the Flashes hanging in the shop. A tattoo flash is a stereotypical tattoo design you know like skulls, crosses, birds that type of thing,” he explained when I gave him a confused look. “I start the consultation with a rough sketch. A basic design to show what it could potentially look like, then make changes and adjustments until we get to the final layout, something that we're both happy with."
"Yeah, I guess it's like that." Looking down I started flicking through the photos that I had taken earlier, "so before I continue can I, please ask you a question?" He nodded, "What's the story behind Barber Shop Ink? I mean, I get that it used to be a barbershop, but why not just get rid of the barber set up?"
Memphis took a moment before answering, scratching at his beard covered cheek. "The building belonged to my Grandparents. Pops had his barber shop here for forty years before he died." Memphis took a moment lost in his thoughts before continuing. "He left the building to my brothers and me. My brothers are both married to the military and didn't want anything to do with it as they had no use for it, so it became mine. I couldn't bear the thought of selling the building, and I know squat about being a barber, but I had been a tattoo artist for years, working for other people. After Pops had died, I decided that I didn't want someone else getting rich off my talent, so I took the leap and open a shop of my own. I changed it enough so that a tattoo shop would work in the existing space, but not enough that it would lose the feel of what Pops had built."
Awwww! I thought that it was so sweet that he wanted to keep things the way his Pops had them, kind of like a way to keep his memory alive.
“Thank you,” I said offering a small smile, “that gives me something to work with, I figured there was a history.” I turned the tablet around to face Memphis, pulling up his accounts that I had downloaded earlier. "So, I had a quick look at your accounting software, and I'm sorry to tell you this, but it is way out of date, like years out of date. The program that you currently have isn't loaded with the current tax rules and is not tracking payroll correctly. See here?" I said, pointing to the tablet.
“Where?” Memphis asked.
"Your entire system needs updating. Your accounting problem is rather easy to fix with new software. That way you won't have the same type of errors like what is happening here. See ...”
Memphis stretch out his long legs until his booted feet met the legs of my chair. Weird but okay, I shrugged looking up I continued to explain the issues that the out of date software was creating when I felt my chair move.<
br />
“EEEEK,” I squealed. “What are you doing?”
Memphis wrapped his feet around the legs of my chair dragging me closer until my chair was between his legs.
“Hi there,” Memphis said smirking. “Hedge, how am I supposed to see what you’re pointing at on that tiny screen from all the way over the other side of the table?”
I looked up straight into Memphis’s eyes and the world, time, all existence along with my heart, stopped. Oh, my God his eyes, they are stunning. One, the deepest ocean blue; the other the darkest chocolate brown that it looked like it was almost black.
“Whoa, the same,” I whispered. Then the penny dropped, it can’t be, can it? I sucked in a breath, “it’s a sign,” my family had heard me.
“What was that?” Memphis asked, leaning in slightly, placing a hand on the back of my chair.
With him being this close I could feel the heat radiating off his body, and I couldn't help but fill my lungs with his manly scent. He smelt all warm, clean and woodsy. One hundred percent pure unadulterated man, it was a delicious smell that I wanted to bathe in until it seeped into my pores.
“Hedge, Sweetness, you’re staring.”
Excellent! I get busted staring at his lovely eyes while smelling him like a total creeper. Boy, was I just going all out with being awesomely weird today?
"I am?" I lamely asked.
“Umm-hmm.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to it’s just, your eyes,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it. I get that all the time, people staring I mean. I know they’re weird.”
Again, my body took charge without consulting my brain because before I knew what I was doing, I raised my hand to his cheek.
"No Memphis, it's not weird," I lightly rubbed my thumb under his brown left eye. “It’s called Heterochromia Iridium, and it's not weird at all. They’re beautiful,” I said, locking eyes with him for a moment before I dropped my hand. “Mirror Image,” I whispered.
Memphis studied me for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something, before changing his mind, leaning back crossing his arms, tilting his chin at the tablet-screen between us.