Messalina: Devourer of Men (14 page)

            “I bet you don’t,” he drawls.

            “You think I’m drunk.” I look at Talley. “You both do.”

            “Nonsense!” “Perish the thought!” they scoff, but I know better.

            “What will it take to prove to you that I need more than a few drinks to get drunk?”

            Devilish cannot begin to describe the smile on Jared’s lips. Suddenly, he puts his arms around me and leans back, pulling me over the seats and on top of him.

            Our actions cause the car behind us to honk their horn and flash their headlights in approval. This encourages him to give my bottom a squeeze while simultaneously pressing me against his crotch.

            “Hey!”

            Talley’s booming voice makes us stop.

            “What?” Jared says.

            “Cool it, you two. Pigs at twelve o’clock.”

            Jared and I straighten up, buckle up, and I nestle in the crook of his arm. This is the third time Talley has scolded us for being affectionate making me wonder if she’s jealous and just putting on a brave face. I hope not, because I like her.

            “Drive on,” he orders and Talley flips him the bird.

            The sidewalks glow with neon and I begin to see a pattern in the types of shops in the neighborhood. “Damn, how many tattoo parlors do they have here?”

            “Hey, maybe it’s time for you to get a companion for your Betty Boop tattoo,” Jared says.

            “I didn’t know you had a tattoo, Eva.”

            “That’s because you can’t see it,” I say.

            Talley makes a knowing sound. “I can’t speak for Jared, but I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo—on my inner thigh.”

            “Of what?” he laughs. “A sign saying ‘one way’?”

            “You better watch it, little man! I ain’t afraid of whippin’ your ass!”

            If I couldn’t see the amused gleam in Talley’s eyes reflected in the rearview mirror, I would’ve taken the edge in her voice as genuine.

            “Eva, you want to get tattooed?”

            “Well, I . . . ”

            “Aw, c’mon, girl! Jared’s getting one!”

            “I’m what?” he bellows.

            “Take it like a man, J. D. If Eva can, you can too. Frankly, I can’t see why you haven’t already with your fascination of the human body as art blah-de-blah-de-blah.”

            I look up at him. “Yeah, you know you want to.”

            “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” he says to her.

            She shakes her head.

            “Oh, alright,” he says with a sigh. “Jesus fucking Christ, Talley! We’ve been driving for a half-hour! Just park the damn car!”

            Then it hits me. Brother and sister: that’s how they act, and for the first time since coming here,
my
anxiety goes away.

* * * *

No professional tattoo artist would work on somebody who’s drunk, so the three of us decide to take the plunge before we hit the bars. We go inside the first parlor we come to and that’s where Talley comes up with the idea that we should all get the same thing to symbolize our solidarity—and that Jared should design it. He bums a piece of paper and a pen from the woman behind the counter who wears a green tank top and is covered in tats. Her stringy blonde hair is pulled into a rattail on top of her head.

            “Shit, I can’t think of anything.” Jared frowns then grabs my arm to pull me to him. “Eva, inspire me, darlin’.”

            I shrug, but after some thought, I do come up with something and Jared is able to translate it beautifully. Talley comes and leans over my shoulder.

“Seems like Jared’s found a critic he’ll listen to.”

            He raises his head. “Leave the woman alone. We’re working here.”

            Our “gang” symbol is a black kitten, a la Tex Avery, and dressed like a hooligan wearing baggy pants with his front paws in his pockets, his cap down over one eye, and a cigarette butt hanging out his mouth. Curved beneath in gothic letters are our initials, J. E. T.

In all, it takes up about two inches of space.

            “I like that,” Talley says, nodding. “I approve.”

            “My life is now complete.” Jared rolls his eyes and takes the drawing to one of the artists, leaving me and his ex-girlfriend looking at walls covered with tattoo art. He comes back  a few minutes later.

            “They got two chairs ready. Who wants to go first?”

            “Lovebirds first,” Talley decrees, pushing us in the direction.

            “You’re full of chicken shit, aren’t you, Talley?”

            She turns her nose up at him. “I’m just helping create a bonding experience between you two.” She winks at me. “To keep you from getting jealous.”

            The chairs are in a small room with a curtain sliding on a rod to cover the entrance. Jared takes my hand and sits me in the second chair farthest from the curtain.

            “Where do you want it, sugar?” he asks suggestively.

            I slide back into the chair and sigh. “Unlike you artistic free sprits, I can’t afford to have it anywhere conspicuous. The hip worked for me last time, it’ll have to do again.”

            “Why not on your back?” asks Talley.

            “Because I want to be able to reach it so I can treat it.”

            Jared opts to have his done on his bicep and stoically takes the jibes from Talley and me for being unoriginal.

            “I guess it’s up to us girls to be the kinky ones,” she says and I put my arm around her waist in support. We look at Jared who arches an eyebrow.

            “Fuck you, Talley. Eva, I’ll get you later.”

            The curtain is pulled aside and a big barrel of a man with long, frizzy red hair and a beard to match comes in. His skin, if it isn’t covered in clothes, is covered in tattoos.

            “Alrighty, folks. Are we ready?” His soft, delicate voice totally contradicts his biker image. “My name’s Boscoe, and this here is Arnie.”

            Boscoe indicates a tall willowy youth, who can’t be more than twenty, and dressed in faded fatigues with the top dyed red. He has piercings in his eyebrow and nose and wears several silver rings on both hands, one of them being the head of a howling wolf.

            “Howdy,” Arnie greets in a voice lower than his testicles.

            “Arnie, you take care of Sweet Miss, and I’ll handle mister.” Boscoe puts a hand on Jared’s shoulder and it’s my opinion that, if given the chance, Boscoe would rather Jared handle him.

            Arnie grins. “OK, miss, show me where it hurts.”

            As I begin to raise my thin summer dress, I suddenly realize I’m about to flash my wherewithal to the crowd. The fact that we are behind a partition with Talley’s giant frame blocking the entry barely comforts me. Thank God for bikini waxes.

            Nevertheless, I reveal my G-string, stockings, garter belt, and a plump, fleshy hip. I look at Jared, who grins at me and my embarrassment.

            “Stop it,” I pout. When I push down the top of my garter belt Jared whistles. Even Arnie’s eyes light up a little as his thin, pink lips turn up in a smile. “If you don’t quit it . . .” I growl but they all laugh.

Boscoe continues to prep Jared’s arm, unperturbed.

            Arnie pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’re in safe hands.”

            “Yeah, well you watch where you put those hands, buddy,” Jared teases.

            I close my eyes and try to relax as Arnie traces in pen, but my ears burn from the acid rock seeping out of the stereo speakers. Finally, I feel the cold damp of cotton drenched in alcohol. The bitter, antiseptic smell is reassuring. Soon I hear the high-pitched whirl of electric needles coming to life.

            Boscoe and Arnie start at the same time. With the first touch of the pen onto my ample flesh, my breath catches in my throat as the needles etch away to permanently embed the image Jared and I created together. We are being branded.

            I open my eyes and level a gaze on Jared. He’s watching Boscoe, but soon enough, he turns to see me. The acid rock has melted away everything else and there is only us. Any discomfort on Jared’s part he expresses only by flaring his nostrils. I, on the other hand, am not above biting my lip and whimpering. After holding my breath for what seems an eternity, I exhale, but it could be mistaken for a groan of pleasure.

            “Arnie, what did I say about those hands?” Jared smiles but never takes his eyes off mine.

            His stare is getting me drowsy, relaxed, and I smile. His eyes seem glazed too. Suddenly, he focuses on me sharply, just as Arnie adjusts his grip on my hip, giving me a slight squeeze. I’m so caught up in Jared’s gaze, a sigh that is rarely heard outside of the bedroom escapes my lips. I’m two seconds away from an orgasm by way of an eye fuck.

            “Goddamn, Eva, that boy must be good.” Talley chuckles. “Hang in there, baby girl.”

Her soft hand strokes a tendril of my hair behind my ear. I nod and my hands slide up the front of my dress to clasp the shoulder straps. She continues stroking my hair, comforting me. A lazy grin spreads across Jared’s mouth and he blows me a kiss, but when he blinks, it breaks our connection and I gasp.

            “Hurt much, babe?” His words are barely above a whisper but are like a soothing balm when they reach me.

            “I’m use to pain, Jared. You should know.”

            His grin tells me he gets my point. In an effort to control myself, I thought it better to concentrate on the pain, rather than get caught up in the rapture of Jared’s eyes. Talley’s long, cool fingers caress my temple, taking the sting of the needles away along with a few drops of perspiration.

            “Ooh, Eva,” Talley murmurs. “This is looking gorgeous.”

            “Good, because you’re next,” I say and focus, once again, on Jared. He’s looking at Talley with a soft smile on his lips making me wonder if he’s remembering their brief affair.

A half-hour later, Jared and I are finished.

            “There you go, Sweet Miss.” Arnie smiles “It’s been a pleasure.”

            “I’ll say.” Talley grins. “The way he had you moaning, Eva, are you sure you don’t want a cigarette?”

            “Quit stalling, Talley,” Jared says. “It’s your turn.”

            Arnie gives me a hand mirror to examine his work before applying ointment and a bandage. Despite the red irritation of my skin, our little mascot, full of bad-manners attitude, peeks just above my garter belt.

Jared gently maneuvers me out of the way. He leans against the wall and I lean back against him. Meanwhile, Talley, true to her word, is getting her tattoo placed on her inner thigh.

            When she drops her pants, she puts all my modesty to shame.

            “It doesn’t take much for her to get out of her clothes,” Jared says with a snicker.

            Talley wears only the slightest suggestion of a thong which matches her complexion so well, for a moment, we all think she’s nude.

            Young Arnie is visibly taken aback then smiles appreciatively. Boscoe, in all his masculinity, is totally uninterested.

            “Arnie, I’m going back into the shop.”

            Talley hops onto the chair as if hopping onto a saddle. Her athlete’s body and outdoor tan has turned her legs into twin pillars of sculpted beauty.

            “Tell me, Arnie,” she says and spreads her legs wide. “Which thigh? Left or right?”

            My jaw drops. From where Jared and I stand, the presentation she makes is like looking up Heaven’s Highway for the Terminally Horny. I wonder how many men Talley has sent to their blissful final reward by way of her loins. I look up at Jared to gauge his reaction. After all, this is his former lover; she’s beautiful, and still single. He is nonchalant, in fact, he nuzzles my neck. I look back at Talley.

            “My God!” She laughs. “Eva, are you blushing? Shit, now I’ve seen everything.”

            “Is she really?” Jared cranes his neck to look at me. “I do believe you’re right.”

            I jab him in the bandage and anyone would’ve thought I kneed him in the groin. Talley, totally casual in her pose, continues.

            “Apparently Arnie’s never seen a woman’s crotch before, because he hasn’t answered my question. So I’ll leave it to you, Eva.” Her mouth curves in a lopsided smile. “Left or right?

            It doesn’t matter to me. It’s a shame to mar such a lovely sight. Finally, I reply. “Right.”

            “OK, Arnie. You heard the little lady. Right thigh, chop chop!”

            I don’t know if it’s because of her commandeering tone or her dig at Arnie’s sexual experience, but either way, Arnie’s excitement wanes until Talley takes her right hand, and with one long, elegant finger points to a spot just inches away from going inside.