Human Hieroglyphix - Dex & Leila

by J. A. Hornbuckle

"No," I said softly, still steadfastly turned to the passenger window.

  "Starlight Room okay with you?" I heard him ask.

  I nodded, not wanting him to see that I didn't have a clue what he meant.

  Dex was quiet as we spun our way up the ramp of one of the town's parking garages. As I mentioned before, most of the stores in our town of approximately 35,000 were contained in eight square blocks. Without the three different garages, parking would be impossible.

  The Starlight Room. Oh, the Starlight Room. I got it.

  'Sorry, Dr. McCarthy, but the Starlight was having a two-fer special last night…'

  'Was too blasted to make it to class 'cause me and the buds were shakin' it at the Starlight…'

  Yeah, I'd heard a lot about it but never been there myself.

  It really was just a non-descript building just off one of the main drags south of town and on Friday and Saturday nights, the place was jumping with lines to get in going around the block. I had heard that they had 'theme nights' where they might be only playing Country or Hip Hop or Jazz, each type of music having its own devotees.

  Dex opened the heavy, wooden outside door to the club allowing me to go in first. We were in a carpeted hallway of sorts and Dex stopped us before a little room where a girl was standing behind the counter.

  "Wanna stow it or hold it?" Dex asked, leaning down towards my ear.

  I looked up at him. While I recognized he was speaking English, and I knew it was a question, I had absolutely no clue what he meant.

  "Okay, can see this is my decision," he mumbled as he reached for my jacket which came off my shoulders along with my purse as he handed them both off along with his jacket to the girl behind the coat claim.

  Oh! Stow It or Hold It. I got it. But I could feel my cheeks heating in embarrassment even though Dex didn't seem too perturbed with my serious lack of knowledge.

  We wound our way through the numerous tables that all seem to surround a dance floor that was flanked on two sides by old-fashioned wood bars.

  I looked around and saw that while the club obviously held two-hundred or so, there were only about twenty patrons there, including me and Dex.

  He sat me at a table asking what I wanted to drink before looking me dead in the eye with a smile and asking what kind of soda I wanted.

  Cute.

  After he brought our drinks back to the table, we started the Twenty Questions portion of our evening which was kind of expected. But the answers for both of us were a bit of a surprise.

  "What?! You mean that you never met an accountant that bailed out of the corporate lifestyle?" Dex asked me with a laugh. "You calling Bullshit again, babe?"

  "Well, you don't look like an accountant," I replied smiling.

  "I am, though. Only now I spend my time marking people's skin with their choices of design. Kind of why the shop is named what it is." I watched Dex make overlapping rings on the tabletop from the condensation of his beer.

  It was quiet as we again let our voices circle around us before leaving our table and get sucked away in the cavernous echoes of the club.

  "Shit, I love this song," Dex said as he stood up abruptly and reached for my hand. "Dance?"

  Okay, deer in the headlight time, I thought staring at his hand, now twisted palm up. I swallowed and raised my eyes to his.

  "I don't know how," I mumbled.

  "No worries, Elle. I do," he said tugging on the hand that he had grabbed when I didn't move to take his.

  He led me to the dance floor and guided my hands around his neck before settling his hands on my hipbones. I tried to mirror my steps to his which seemed to be a side step kind of thing with a slight knee-bend on the fourth count.

  I never said I didn't have any rhythm, I just said I didn't know how to slow dance.

  But my heart was just about ready to come out of my chest. My chest that was capped by nipples hard enough to cut glass.

  I found myself swallowing thickly as I breathed in Dex's light cologne and the underlying scent of him, the same scent I enjoyed when he was inking my tattoo.

  And it must be said, that scent was driving me crazy.

  When I felt steady enough, I lifted my eyes and asked, "So, what's this song?"

  Dex leaned down until his mouth was at my ear.

  Full body rush again, just feeling his breath against the skin of my neck and ear.

  "Cowboy Junkies, 'Sweet Jane'," he breathed. "Like it?"

  "Yeah, I do," I said a bit shakily as I felt him press himself closer to me which allowed me to capture more of his shoulders in my arms.

  The next song came on and again it was just me and Dex on the dance floor only now our eyes were glued to each other.

  And I recognized that my panties were very, very wet.

  "Isn't this one of the songs that you played when you were tattooing me?" I asked softly.

  "Yeah," Dex breathed. "DMB's 'Crash'."

  "Like it, Dex," I admitted staring straight up into his eyes.

  "Like that you like it, Elle," he whispered back and he slid his nose against mine in emphasis.

  After the song ended, we made our way back to our tiny table that had been refurbished with fresh drinks. "Thanks, Stella," Dex yelled and raised his beer towards the gal behind the bar. Not to be left out, I raised my soda and smiled. And Stella raised a hand in acknowledgement.

  "So, Lovely," Dex started. "Tell me about yourself."

  I just looked at him. I had no clue what he wanted to know and I was not, repeat not, going to just spill my life story out to this gorgeous man. There were just too many painful pieces that were a part of my heart's landscape to just whip out in front of a stranger.

  Even one as gorgeous as Dex.

  "Okay, then," he breathed on a smile. "Seems like we are at an impasse here. So, here's what I suggest. We each get to offer up a question that must be answered by each one of us in turn. Sound fair?"

  I thought it through. Okay, yep. Seemed totally fair.

  "Okay. But can I go first?" I asked thinking that by snapping up first question meant that I wouldn't be giving away the most.

  "Sure. Hit me," Dex said settling back into his chair and propping his boots up on a chair that he moved from the table next to ours. I saw that he had even made himself more comfortable by crossing his arms on his chest.

  Okay, then. I picked up his now empty beer bottle and held it under my mouth, acting like it was a microphone.

  "Dex, what's your favorite state?" I asked assuming the seriousness of a newscaster.

  "Seriously? That's what you're gonna lead with?" Dex was chuckling as he seemed to study the ceiling. He shook his head and then leaned in a bit so his words could be directed to our beer bottle microphone.

  "Horny. Horny is my favorite state," he said watching my eyebrows move towards my hairline before catching on what I was sure was my blush his answer had caused.

  "Your turn, Elle," he said with a smirk.

  "Florida," I said without thinking.

  "The microphone didn't quite hear you. Say again?"

  "Florida," I said and my breath caught on the hole of the beer bottle causing what I could only describe a moose-in-rut sound.

  We both started laughing at the noise.

  "My turn, right?"

  I nodded as I felt my heart again start booming in my chest.

  "What do you do for a living and why are you doing it now?" Dex asked with a grin that had some seriousness to it if the look in his eye was any indication.

  "I'm a professor of English Lit at the University of Colorado, Grantham because the only thing I've ever wanted to do was something to do with words or teaching," I admitted.

  "Shit," Dex breathed, his eyes luminous in the dark of the sparsely populated club.

  "What? Didn't I answer it right?" I asked unnerved by his exclamation.

  There's silence and then there's silence.

  Unfortunately for our table, the quiet there was of the second variety.

 
; "Isn't it your turn?" I asked shakily.

  Dex nodded but I could swear that he hadn't blinked in the time, that quiet few moments that followed my answer.

  "I'm a tattoo artist that has his degree in accounting. The degree is because that's what my folks wanted, strike that, was a foregone conclusion that I would have so I could step into the family business one day. I'm a tattoo artist because I find beauty in what other people choose to, need to. capture in the ink they want permanently inscribed on their bodies. Whether it's a portrait of their child that died young or the cliffs that they mustered the courage to dive from in Maui, if it's important to them, it becomes important to me."

  "Like my butterfly," I whispered.

  "Like your butterfly, babe," he whispered back. "Why the butterfly?"

  "I, ah, I'm not…" I know I didn't make a bit of sense but I didn't know Dex enough to trust him with my secrets though I hoped I'd get a chance to.

  "It's okay, babe," Dex said reaching for my hand. "Think we're both a little too new to each other to play this game anymore."

  I nodded gratefully.

  It was kind of a quiet ride back to what I assumed was my place. But Dex wasn't headed for the exit of the parking garage. Instead he went up to the next level.

  "Thought I'd take you to get your car," Dex said when I happened to notice that we were not on course for my house.

  "Oh, yeah," I replied after totally forgetting about my car. Probably trying to forget last night, too.

  "Had a great time tonight, Dex," I murmured as my hand moved to the door handle of the Jeep.

  "Hold on," Dex said placing his hand on my arm that had a death grip on my purse. I turned back towards him.

  "C'mere, Leila." I heard him say softly.

  I moved my hips back into the seat and glanced at him. Even under the fluorescent lights of the parking garage, Dex still was gorgeous. His overgrown hair was mussed every which way and his scruff of facial hair just seemed model-like perfect on him. He leaned deeper towards me.

  "No, honey, c'mere," he said, bringing his hand to the back of my neck and pulling me towards him.

  I didn't even have time to think what he meant as my lips hit his.

  Oh, dear God.

  He was kissing me.

  He had wanted a kiss from me.

  From me.

  After a bit of lip action, I felt his tongue lick along the seam of my mouth and without thinking about it, I felt my mouth open and his tongue invade as his head tilted further to the side, gaining more access.

  My body's reaction was instantaneous as his hot, wet tongue twirled slowly against mine.

  I couldn't help either my hip thrust or my moan as the sensations of our kiss caught up with my thought processes. Dex's hands were holding my face as our kiss continued and I made a conscious choice not to think too much but to allow just the wonderful feelings to kick along all my nerve endings.

  The kiss seemed to go on forever, but every good thing must come to an end as did the contact of our lips. One minute we were deep in the mouth action and then we were exchanging soft, sweet kisses that still contained a lot of heat, then we were leaning against each other with the sides of our noses pressed together.

  "Can I see you tomorrow?" Dex asked and he sounded a little breathless.

  "Yes, please," and found that my voice had a certain breathiness to it as well.

  "Same time?"

  I nodded and reached for the door handle even though I was fully aware that my brain wasn't quite firing properly.

  I turned back to him as I moved to shut the car door and caught Dex rearranging his pants.

  "Bye, Dex and thanks," I said again carefully sliding my eyes away from his movements.

  "See you later, gorgeous," I heard him say before the closing of the car door cut him off.

  All the way home I was in a fog replaying the sight of my Dex straightening himself.

  Having to do that because of me.

  Because of what he felt when he was kissing me.

  Sure I'd seen a guy doing that before. But never, ever, had I recognized that I had caused it, not even with my ex-husband.

  In fact, on the few occasions that I had seen my ex-husband, Dan, do it, I knew that it wasn't anything that I had caused, anything that I had done or, even worse, had anything to do with me in the slightest.

  I had just pulled into my garage and was watching it close behind me when I heard the muffled beeps of my phone signaling a text had been received.

  I quickly pulled my phone from the bowels of my bag sure that it was a text from one of the girls. My screen, though, said 'Dex'. I was confused. We didn't exchange cell phone numbers so I wasn't sure how he had gotten mine or why my screen clearly had his name displayed.

  'Let me know you made it home safe.' it said.

  I found myself holding that little rectangle, that little piece of technology that had made its way into our lives, close to my heart as I made my way into the house trying to decide what I wanted to say in reply.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dex watched as Leila made her way to her car, the only car left on that floor of the garage. He waited until she began driving before he started his Jeep and followed her down the ramps to the street.

  He had a great time with her tonight.

  If the truth were known, he had a great time with her last night, too, although she was passed out.

  After getting her in the house and practically pouring her onto her sofa, he had planned to leave, had every intention of leaving. But he heard her moan into the throw pillow he had lowered her head onto and thought it best if he stayed. After having experience at being completely shit-faced more than a few times, he dug around in her kitchen for a large pot and put in on the floor at the end where her head was laying.

  After placing the pot, he sat on her coffee table to better view her.

  She looked so familiar to him but he was unsure how he knew her. It could be from the shop or from any of his normal haunts, but he didn't think so.

  All he knew for certain is that she was gorgeous, didn't get drunk often if she was shit-faced after only three drinks, and that she called him 'my Dex'.

  How could he be hers if he didn't even know her?

  If she didn't get drunk often then she was going to experience a world of hurt when she woke up. Dex put his hand on her forehead and smoothed back her hair before he stood. He would stay the night and make sure she was okay in the morning.

  He checked the doors to make sure they were locked before making his way upstairs.

  He really liked her house.

  It was an arts and crafts structure and Leila had furnished it with things of that period with the exception of the kitchen where she had modern appliances and granite countertops. He nosed around upstairs, discovering that it was a three bedroom, two bath but that she used one bedroom for storage, another for her office and the largest room was her bedroom with its own bathroom.

  He was surprised that Leila's bedroom was decorated in the arts and crafts style as well instead of cutesier or girly as some of the bedrooms of girls that he'd been with. And her bedroom was just as clean and tidy as the rest of the house, which was another big plus.

  Maybe it was because of the cleanliness that all tattoo artists had to maintain, but Dex kept his house, his car and his shop as clean as possible. If he 'got lucky' and went to the girl's place and found it was dirty, dusty or unclean, he made his excuses and left before the things really got started.

  His mind roamed back to when she first woke up on the couch and smiled. She had been in a lot of pain but she was a trooper, never complaining about how bad she felt and accepted his ministrations without fuss.

  She was damn cute when she had been calling 'Bullshit'.

  And, if memory served, her blushes and smile is how he had caught on to how he knew her.

  Goose-bump, Blue Pansy girl.

  The girl that he hadn't been able to get off his mind.

  How
could someone get to be her age and still remain so innocent, so unworldly? Even when he was inking her, she had responded to his touch like no female ever had before.

  And tonight when they were dancing, he could see the goose-bumps come and go on her skin, the skin left bare by her sequined tank top. When their eyes would catch, his heart did a double bump, just as it had in the shop when he had helped her off the chair.

  There was definitely something that arced between them and that, along with her no artifice honesty, made him want to get to know her better.

  The fact that she didn't open up easily , just like him, really peaked his interest. He had already had his fill of women that told their whole life story in the first fifteen minutes. He hated that, hated blatancy whether it was in the way someone dressed, spoke or acted.

  Not that he wanted complete mystery, but some would be nice.

  And, that kiss.

  Christ, that kiss.

  Dex couldn't remember the last time his cock was fully erect with just one kiss. And he hadn't missed her moan and squirm, which had only made him want to drag her to the backseat and do all sorts of wonderfully nasty things to her, like they were in high school.

  Jesus, just remembering the way she felt under his hands, the way she tasted and then listening to her moan from just a kiss--one kiss, had him fully hard again.

  Dex pulled his phone from his back pocket and sent her a text asking her to let him know she got home safely. By the time he had made it to his front door, his phone beeped. 'Safe and sound. Looking forward to tomorrow.'

  Again, sweet honesty.

  He shook his head and made his way inside his house.

  He was looking forward to tomorrow, too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, after I got home from yoga, I decided that I needed to invest in some music. It wasn't that I didn't like music but that all I had ever really paid attention to was Classical. Although, growing up Mom always had the radio tuned to our local Country Western station and she would sing along to her favorites.

  But I'd heard so much music over the last few days that I really liked and I wanted to hear more.

  I also had an idea of how to make it so I knew how to put outfits together, which shoes went with what, etc. Not to mention I needed accessories and make up.