Pole Dance
Page 31
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."