Human Hieroglyphix - Dex & Leila (18 page)

I was jazzed that I could even remember most of the artists and the names of the songs, although I was going to have to call Frank-kay on how to pronounce a couple of the artist's names from his list.

Round two had been a rousing success.  Even though we used the standard missionary position, at least to start out with, there was nothing vanilla about it. 

Dex was a man that like to see, taste, hear and touch as he fucked.

Yes, I used the eff word.  If you'd heard it as much as I had in the last twenty-four hours, and heard it purred, growled, spoken softly, yelled and used as a noun, a verb, an adverb as well as an adjective, I would double-dog dare you to resist dropping a few of those bombs yourself. 

Especially, if Dex was your man and went wild when he heard you talk dirty to him.

That's what I
though
t!

So we started missionary, face to face, belly to belly with part A slotted to part B when Dex pushed up, straightening his forearms after hooking them around my legs, and, as he sat up, our entire connection was on display to both our eyes.

"That is fucking sweet, Elle, seeing me going into you.  God, you smell so fucking good."  Which only caused me to get juicier.  Which caused the slippery noises.  Which caused both of us to moan while we continued watching what our bodies were doing.

"Babe, look how hard your fucking nipples are."

"You're so tight, like a hot wet glove.  Fuck, Elle."

Talk to me like that and even fully clothed I'd probably have a mini-gasm.

At one point he rolled us over so I was straddling him, which allowed me greater ease in controlling the depth as well as to rub my clit on his pubic bone. 

That was my fourth climax.

Number five was when he had me kneeling on the bed, my chest to the mattress, ass up in the air.  We were tooling along, Part A moving in Part B fast and rough when Dex reached around and found my clit and began to roll and circle it.  Holy moly!  That sure upped the ante and I got lost in the maelstrom of physical sensation.

These were my thoughts as I tried to walk normally, casually, over to where Crystal was behind the counter.

"Hey, girl, what'cho doing here?" She yelled leaning over the counter to give me a one-armed hug.

"Waiting for Dex," I explained.

"Oh, you're ready to have your fill done?  I didn't see you in the book," she said running her finger down the column entitled 'Dex'.

"Uh…" I began but was saved by Dex coming to me with his gloves still on.  He leaned down, holding his hands away from both of us and gave me a sweet, long kiss that started my motor, which I originally thought was going to be unable to ignite for another forty-eight to seventy-two hours.

"Hey, Elle," he rumbled as he slid his nose against mine.  "Gonna be another fifteen to thirty minutes, okay?'

"Yeah, sweetie.  I'll just hang out with Crystal if that's okay."

He pulled back a little and gave me another kiss, this was shorter but no less sweet.  I watched him walk back to his booth and go back to work.

"No way," Crystal mumbled softly, her eyes huge.  "No fucking
way
."

"What?" I said, reaching up to rub my mouth thinking I had something on it.

"You're Elle?" she asked.

"Uhm, yeah.  That's his nickname for me, anyway.  Why?"

"Oh my
God
!" she squeaked.  "No
fucking
way!"

Now both you and I know that Crystal is just the tiniest bit enthusiastic, and just the teensie-weensiest off her rocker, but her reaction to me and Dex was a little over the top.

She bounced on the balls of her feet and started clapping before she ran around the counter to give me a hug.

"Oh my God, Leila!  You're all he talks about.  'Elle this and Elle that'.  And all this time I didn't know it was you,
yourself
-you, if you know what I mean."

I didn't but I pretended like I did as I held her hands and bounced right along with her.

"You look great!" she continued as her bounces ran down.  "I got the picture that Marianne sent of you ready for your first date with that guy you're crushing on…"

"Oh
SHIT
!" Crystal yelled.  "You were
crushing
on Dex? 
Our Dex
?"

I watched as she ran around the counter and snagged her phone.

"This is HUGE, Leila,
massive
!  I've gotta let Cait and Marianne know.  They're gonna shit themselves!"

I was a bit surprised by Crys's over the top reaction, but like I said before, she's a little bit off her rocker.

But as fast as Crystal's fingers flew on her phone, my phone beeped with an incoming text from Caitlin.  'Dex?  He's hot & holds a smoky 2nd only to my Jake. U go, girl'.

I was just beginning to respond to her text when Marianne's came through.  'Hot damn, girlfriend.  Good 4 U. We need 2 meet up & get all the details!'.

I saw Dex moving his tray which I knew from experience meant that he was done inking his client.  I dragged my eyes back to Crystal who was still texting.

"Crystal?  What's your schedule like for next Friday?"

She stopped texting and flipped a page in her huge appointment book.  "Looks like I don't have anything after 6:30, why?"

"Can you get the girls together and be at my house by 7:00?  We could do a girl's night in."

"That sounds awesome!"

"Uhm, do you think it'd be okay to invite Frank-kay?"

"Shit, yeah!  I've got him on speed dial," she said waving her cellphone around.  "I've known him for years.  Who do you think helps me,
keeps
me looking this fucking good?" she asked as she struck a pose.

I was laughing so hard at her antics that I was startled when Dex touched my lower back to signal he was ready to go.

"Babe, you might want to turn that thing off," Dex whispered into my ear.

We were at his place and he had just given me the tour of his three-bedroom two bath, ranch style house.  He hadn't decorated it with any particular style, but the furniture was all large and comfortable.  I noticed he had a king size bed which accounted for all the weird maneuvering we had done on my bed last night. 

Huge difference between a queen and a king.

He was cute, making a point of kissing me deeply in each and every room of his house then leading me out onto his deck to introduce to Fred and Wilma, his Labrador Retrievers.

We were finally back in the kitchen, where he demanded another kiss when my phone beeped for like the seven hundredth time since we walked through the door.

"I think you're right, sweetie," and pulled my cell out of my back pocket and turned it off.

I glanced up as he was digging stuff out of his refrigerator.

"You like omelets, Elle?" he asked.  "I make an omelet that will make you melt."

'You make me melt,' I thought to myself.

"Can I do something?" I asked and he piled a some fruit on the counter before pulling out a cutting board and handing me a knife.

"Think you can do a fruit salad?" he asked pulling down a large bowl and setting it in front of me.

"Yeah, Dex, I think I can handle a fruit salad," I replied turning on the faucet to rinse the fruit off.

"I dunno, babe.  Wasn't much in your fridge when I looked last night," he said bumping me with his shoulder.

"You think I don't know how to cook because I don't have a lot of stuff in my fridge?" I asked with mock disdain.

"Just sayin'," Dex replied with a grin before turning back to his bowl of eggs and his whisk.

"So if we're just assuming things, what should I have assumed about you by having a cutting board and a whisk, huh?"

"That I'm a damn good cook who places a high value on having just the right tool, to be used in just the right way, at just the right time."

"Sweetie?  For some reason, that sounded downright dirty," I mumbled into the fruit I was slicing.

I felt him slip his arms around my waist before his lips touched my ear.

"It was supposed to, babe."  He rubbed his groin against my ass that was covered by my new jean skirt.  "It's called 'verbal foreplay'.  Is it working?"

All I could do was nod, before I got the full body rush.

Damn, he was sexy.

He was completely right about the omelets that we had with the fruit salad and toast.  He even opened a bottle of red wine that went wonderfully with our food.  When we were done, we stayed together and put the kitchen to rights, acting like it was something that we did every day.

I have to say, Dex was the most comfortable man I'd ever been with.  He was great to talk to, had a million stories about stuff he had done--some good, some bad--but he was also great when we were just quiet.  Most of the time, our silences were those of the good kind, which I thought was pretty rare.

When we were done in the kitchen, Dex went into his bedroom and came back with a shoebox that he sat on the coffee table.

"Want anything, Elle?  Coffee or tea?"

"Coffee would be good.  Did you have trouble staying awake at work today after only getting three hours of sleep?"

"It wasn't too bad.  There was a stretch around noon where I didn't have anything scheduled so I just closed the curtain on my booth and napped in the client chair for a couple of hours."

I watched as he measured the grinds into his filter, then reached into his cabinet and grabbed a spice jar and shook it twice over the grinds before pouring the water in the reservoir and turning the coffee maker on.

"What was it that you put in the coffee?" I asked.

"See if you can tell me when you've had a cup, alright?"

I smiled and he pulled me back into the living room, where we sank into his huge comfortable couch.

"Remember how I told you about my list last night?" he said softly.

"Yeah, honey.  I remember," I whispered back.

"Open the box," he said jutting his chin towards the shoe box on the table.

I shifted forward in the deep couch and brought the box to my lap.  I took the lid off and found a couple of old folded papers on top of a messy stack of pictures, as well as a couple of different pins.

"Pull out the yellow paper," Dex said his arms spread out on top of the cushions.

I pulled it out and gingerly opened it.  It was really worn and there were a couple of tears in it already along the seams.  There was no title, it was just a list of everything he told me about last night:  his condo, the SUV, his motorcycle, etc.  But at the bottom, in big bold letters, I read 'Live Free or Die!'.

"What does that mean?  The words at the bottom," I asked turning to look at him.  He seemed so relaxed here in his own space.  The lamplight caught the sun streaks in his hair and flowed over his cheekbones, along his jaw, his full mouth.

God, he was gorgeous.

"I wrote that to remind me that I wasn't ever going to be another robot contributing to corporate greed.  I wanted to live
my
life on
my
terms,
my
way," he said firmly.

"How old were you when this went down?" I asked softly, reading  the entries he had made.

He was looking at me, when I twisted around to look at him, after not receiving an answer.  His eyes were soft on me.

"Look at the white paper, babe," he said just as soft as before.

I reached in the box and took out the white paper that had also been folded, but wasn't as worn as the yellow sheet.  I unfolded it and saw it was a timeline.  A timeline that started in 2003 and went up to 2012 which was only half way along the paper.  He had marked little ticks on the timeline and had written just a few words above each tick.  In the upper left hand corner, I saw he had written, "Jeffrey Dexter Nelson III, birth date:  11/30/78" and his social security number.

"I started reinventing myself in 2003, when I was twenty-five.  I used to keep both papers in my wallet so if something happened to me, that I could be identified."

"You mean like dead?" I asked twisting around again.

"Yeah, babe.  At that point in my life, I was emotionally a lot younger than my chronological age and was trying to run with the big dogs.  Because I had a bike, I thought that made me a biker.  That is, until I met up with real bikers."

I looked down at the timeline again.

"When I took off on my bike, I didn't have any clue where I was going and I had never ridden a motorcycle for very long.  So after about six hours, my ass, legs and arms were killing me, so I got a room in Casper, Wyoming."

I saw it on the timeline, the tick and the notation.  "So then you stayed there until--"

"Yeah, I got a job in a biker bar and ended up rooming with another biker named 'Holler'.  Like I said, I thought I was a biker 'cause I rode a motorcycle.  But I wasn't.  I wasn't even near what a biker was, according to the bikers that came into the bar.  Those guys scared the shit outta me."