Tattooed Moon (25 page)

Two weeks later…

J
ulian glanced at
her as they lay under the stars, their bodies intertwined on an old plaid blanket in his small, well-manicured fenced backyard. The grass smelled sweet and the air brimmed with the scents of nature. Milan looked up at the stars, a placid smile on her beautiful face as she rested on her arm, falling undoubtedly into a daydream.

“You okay? Are you cold?”

“No, everything is just perfect.” The blackness of night blanketed them. He never tired of her smile. “Tell me a story, a true story…” She asked.

“What kinda story?” He snuggled a bit closer.

“I don’t know, something from your life. Yeah, read me a page from the book of your life.” Her voice and face soothed his heart.

“Okay, let’s see…I got it. When I was a little boy,” he began, “I had seen this house that I currently live in a gazillion times, Milan. My mom would drive past it on her way to taking me to school, in her old, beat up station wagon.” He couldn’t help but smile at the memory of his mother’s hands clutched around the steering wheel, a cigarette dangling out of her mouth and her red and white waitress uniform with all the wrinkles and stains clinging to her thin, yet womanly form. Her jet black hair would be wound in a tight ponytail and she’d sing to him the songs on the radio, her tone off-key but beautiful all the same, while he and his stepsister sat sprawled on the lumpy backseat, their book bags full of homework and excuses as to why some of it wasn’t done.

“We’d go past this house right here, and I’d point to it and say, ‘I love that house, mom! One day, I’m going to buy it!’ And she’d laugh…you know, a real easy laugh, not making fun of me or anything like that, just the kind a mom gives a kid to not squash his little dreams with nay-sayin’. Then she’d say, ‘You sure love that house, Jay.’”

“She called you Jay?” Milan asked, her eyes upon the stars.

“Yup. Everyone did; most people still do.”

“Finish the story.” She held his hand a bit tighter.

“So, I’d say, ‘Yeah, Mom, I’m going to get that house when I get grown and get some money.’ I knew we couldn’t afford it. I saw it come up for sale a couple of times, and I’d start fantasizing about it. In my mind, I’d pretend that my stepfather would come home and say, ‘Hey, I bought that house Jay wanted. We’ll move in tonight.’” He paused. “Of course that never happened. We weren’t destitute, but I guess you’d have called us lower middle class … I never was hungry or anything like that, but we struggled a bit from time to time.” He swallowed, feeling her stir against him, her body soft and comforting.

“My step-father worked really hard as a mechanic. He was gone more than he was home. I think she liked it like that, though. My mom seemed to have a thing for guys that worked on cars.” He chuckled. “It seemed my dad, my stepfather and her boyfriends before him, were all either mechanics or truck drivers.” He yawned. “Anyway, when I got my first gig at Pyro-Ink, the very first tattoo salon I ever worked out of professionally, I had saved up enough money to get a house. I didn’t know where I was going to put down roots, though…just kinda knew I needed a place to lay my head, one that I could call my own. I hated apartments because I like to burn a lot of shit, and people would think I was smokin’ Mary Jane.”

Milan burst out laughing, a musical sound. He squeezed her hand.

“I am the type of guy that needs space…room. I don’t like being under or above people…or beside people, unless that person is my baby…” He caught her eye as she stared at him, and he winked.

“I like that,” she whispered.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” He said coolly as he looked down at his bare feet, then back at the sky. “So, one day, I was driving around, and saw this house right here. There was no ‘For Sale’ sign on it but I parked in front of it any way, and just stared at it for the longest. Then, I got out my car and walked up to the front door and knocked. No one answered, so I left my name and number and asked that whoever lived there, to please call me as soon as possible. I didn’t think I’d hear anything back, but I did. Some lady called me that evening and I told her, point blank, ‘Hey, I want to buy your house.’

“She was real quiet on the other end for awhile. And then she was like, ‘It’s not for sale.’ I told ’er, ‘Okay, well if it ever is, call me.’ I didn’t hear back about it, so I started to look at other places. I could never find a place I really liked though. Then, I got a call. That same woman called me and said she’d gotten a job out of town and needed to sell her house fast. We made it happen. I hadn’t even been inside the place, but I knew I’d love it. I walked inside, looked around, envisioning just how I wanted it to be.” He put his hands up as if he were taking a snapshot. “It’s not a big house, but it’s perfect for me. I really feel at home when I enter it. Anyway…” He cleared his throat, getting back on track. “I looked around and, you know, thought about how I’d replace the carpet, windows, update the kitchen, knock out a wall upstairs to make a bigger bedroom, get the basement finished and water-proofed to do my private tattooing—my goal at the time.”

Milan stared into his eyes, transfixed, making him feel like a great storyteller. He pretended to not see her, but the way she looked at him made him feel one hundred percent important. He loved that…

“Then, as time passed, I said, ‘Screw this basement shit. I can just open my own shop. Working from home wasn’t always convenient.”

Milan closed her eyes now, as if in the middle of a peaceful dream. His hair covered part of her shoulder, the strands sprawled about, and he felt like the rising sun, basking under the vibrant moonlight, in competition with the prettiest star in the entire galaxy. That star was his precious Milan…

He pulled her closer to him, and it didn’t take much for she was suddenly lying atop his over-sized Bob Marley T-shirt. Now, her hair blended with his. Wavy, dark brown textured tresses slightly intertwined with his own. His groin throbbed, reminding him that no matter how cool he tried to be about the situation, the scent of her perfume and skin was turning him on and he’d lost track of time—didn’t recall even what he’d been saying. All that he knew was that he felt happy, and there was no other place he’d rather be.

“Where did the name ‘Soul Inscriptions’ come from? Was that your idea?” she asked, her voice muffled as her cheek pressed into his chest.

“Funny, I was just getting to that…” She’d gotten him back on track. “So, I went around looking for a property to rent, and ended up buying that space instead. Named it ‘Soul Inscriptions’ because of my philosophy about tattoos. Some people get them because they want to feel important, cool, and different. There was a time when tattoos were only associated with sailors and indigenous people. They were considered un-classy, only done by people who didn’t fit into society, rebels and derelicts. That changed; and now, everyone, even grandmothers and great grandmothers, are getting them but to me, the
true
meaning of a tattoo, to permanently mark oneself, means that you claim something to your very soul. You want it written on your heart. You can’t take it with you, so you try as hard as you can to prescribe meaning, to make sense of this craziness around us, you know?”

“Yes, I know.”

He was quiet for a few moments while he ran his hand up and down her arm. He toyed with her sleeve, biding time, until he gave up the battle. He needed her. Her soft lips slightly parted when he rolled her onto her back and straddled her.

“What are you doing?!” She giggled, his ruby and gold Chinese lanterns strung high above them making her dark eyes glow.

“I’m about to show you something…”

“I’ve already seen it many times,” she teased, forcing him to laugh, too.

He pushed her legs apart and settled between her thighs as he brushed her hair out of her face.

“You know…I think you’re so used to keeping things to yourself, keeping things all bottled up, that you forget to breathe. I think you forget that you can talk to me, that I want you to, and shit, you just need to.” He traced the side of her neck with his fingertips.

She swallowed and stared at him more intensely. “I never really thought about that, actually. I didn’t use to be that way, though.”

“Well.” He exhaled. “Sometimes things happen that change us. If we keep letting something change us, it becomes a part of us, a habit. It’s no longer just an incident.” He snaked his hand under her shirt; she bucked playfully beneath him.

“I knew you were going to try this!” She laughed, pretending to fight him off of her.

“Relax…you’ve got it comin’ to you later.” He winked. “I have something else in mind right now, though.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically and smirked. “What?”

“Just feel it…” he said in a whisper as he hovered above her. “I’m drawing all over you…”

Her smile slowly dissipated.

“Tattoos…I’m putting tattoos all over your body.” He swirled his fingers, traced them on her, made straight lines, circles, triangles and prisms as he drew her closer to his spirit. “This is what you look like to me…a beautiful garden, with all sorts of flowers no one has ever seen nor smelled before, in colors we never even knew existed. Imagine a world where hues, shapes, sounds and aromas are all foreign to us. Nothing like we’ve ever known; that is what you’re like to me…some beautiful art no one has ever perceived, touched or cracked open. Some walking garden, a moon child with thighs that are softer than fur and sticky like honey after I taste you…”

She sighed and shuddered ever so slightly beneath him.

He went lower, placing his fingertips on her exposed navel, then made his way to her thighs.

“You went through so much…were in so much pain, and I connected with you because through that, you were still so
strong
… You survived. I survived, too. And…you are so beautiful…so moon-like…full…glowing from the outside in. Hurting, from the inside out…cloaked from head to toe…but you needed something. And I needed something, too…
you
…”

He kissed her stomach, a gentle brush of his lips against her slightly trembling flesh.

“The first time we made love, I will never forget it. When you
came,
it was music to my very heart.” He laid another kiss upon her warm skin, this one a bit lower. “You are what I’ve been waiting for, Milan. I’ve met my share of women…but none of them were like
you
.”

Her body responded beneath him; he felt her gaze following his intimate trails.

“Just like this house and my tattoo shop, I knew what I wanted, what I was looking for. I know who I am…and I know who you are too, and I want to know even more about you. Let me…make you…cum to me…” He tugged at her jeans, and soon, they were around her hips. He slicked his hand inside of her panties and lay to the side of her, causing her to moan loudly as her hips bucked to his ministrations.

“That’s it…” he urged as he ran his fingers up and down her saturated pussy, then focused on her clit. “Your pearl…I’ve run my tongue across it so many times…and I can’t wait to savor you again,” he said, his voice raspy, his soul drawn to her, falling under her spell. “Your body…I want to possess it. I want to be tattooed across it. I want to be inside of it. Will you let me draw my name on your skin, baby?”

With his free hand, he began to write his name up and down her thigh. On a moan, she tossed her head back, bunching up the blanket as he continued the slow, torturous seduction. “Yes…yesss….”

“That’s right, baby…say it, tell me what you want.”

“I want…
you
…” She writhed under his touch, whimpered with pleasure.

After a while, he got back on top of her, keeping his hand steady against her pussy. He forced her knees together, let them take his hand hostage, locked between her constricting thighs, while he continued to press his fingertips into her pelvis, rocking his cock against her. Her eyes widened as the sensations mounted. She gasped.

“Keep your legs locked, just like you used to when you’d masturbate as a teenager,” he instructed before leaning down and kissing the side of her face, layering it with delicate kisses. She smiled shyly, so becomingly. He smiled back.

“You know that’s how you used to do it…humping sheets…” He grinned into her ear.

He heard her laugh between moans and gasps.

This warmed his heart as he continued on until he felt her wetness increase tenfold, flowing over his fingers. She screamed out and clung to him, climaxing hard beneath him.

“Oh…shit.” She sighed, spent—and looking happy.

He rose onto his elbow, kissed her cheek and stared down at her, pleased with his handy work. Literally.

“That was…good.”

“Mmmm hmmm.” He grinned. “Anything else you want? I aim to please.”

“Tell me…something sexy.” She panted. “I need to catch my breath for a sec. That should hold me over for a moment… I just love hearing you speak. You have such a way with words.”

“Hmmm.” He traced her navel with his fingers. “Sexy like what? Or do you want me to shoot from the hip? Askin’ for stories and sexy shit tonight, that’s a tall order,” he teased.