Tattooed Moon (13 page)

“I wanted to know, if I could…” He slicked his tongue over his bottom lip as he casually rubbed his hands together, “…take you out sometime?”

She stood there, unable to stop her mouth from curling upward in a rascally grin. She waited for a moment, pondering over his invitation, drawing closer to the words as if they invited her to dance.

“Is that why I got the discount?” she joked, causing him to laugh lightly, cross his arms and look down at his seemingly brand new red and white Pumas before he set his sexy gaze back upon her.

“Maybe, but anyway…” His stare narrowed as he shoved his hands into his slouchy jean pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m attracted to you, like I already confessed, and I hope you wore that get up,”—he pointed casually to it, a smirk draped across his face, “because you might have at least a
slight
interest in me,
too
.” Now, he was offering that sexy ass smile again. She wished he’d stop it. It made her damn pussy pulsate like a Bayou frog’s throat.

“I did.”

“I
know
you did.” He cocked his head to the side and moved his jaws a bit back and forth, as if he were chewing gum. “Glad you finally admitted it… So, what do you say? A date with a hippie? It just might be fun.” He smirked, rocking back and forth a bit harder now.

“They say Jesus was a hippie, and as you know, I like him and accept him as my personal Lord and savior…so maybe I can like you, too.”

At this, he burst out laughing so hard, he turned red. “Normally, I would scoff at such things, but seeing as it is working in my favor, hell, I welcome it with both arms. Alright, cool… Oh, I almost forgot!” He shot his finger up in the air as if to say, ‘One moment, please.’

After disappearing for moments behind the dark red curtain of the little shop, he returned and handed her eleven yellow roses.

“The twelfth one is in your hair.” He pointed to it, reminding her of its presence.

“Oh my goodness. These are so nice, thank you!” She sniffed them, taking in their aromatic bouquet. “A dozen roses, how nice…you’re kinda sweet.” She winked at him as she gathered them in her arms.

“I didn’t get you twelve roses because it is customary. I got you twelve roses because your birthday is in the twelfth month of the year. If you’d been born in July, you would’ve received seven, and so on and so forth.”

“So not only do I have to hear about astrology some more, I have to hear about numerology, too?” She laughed. “I don’t think I’m going to survive this date with you, Julian.”

“You’ll endure it, and I think you’ll actually like it…maybe even
love
it.” He winked. “Now, let’s make arrangements.” He rubbed his hands together again, this time as if he were about to plop down and feast on something extravagant and mouth watering. “You can either meet me here at the shop, or I can pick you up. I’m free Wednesday night, at least I am
now
.” He grinned.

“Hmmm, okay. I can do Wednesday. You already have my number…”

“I do.” He removed his cellphone from his pocket. “But give it to me again and I will put it in my phone.”

They exchanged numbers and set a time.

“Well, I guess that’ll be all. See you on Wednesday,” she said, getting a whiff of his cologne as he drew closer, stood beside her for a brief moment, then breezed by like a ghost. Gripping the chrome locks, he removed the chains from her voluntary imprisonment, allowing her to be released into the night.

“You’ll hear from me before then.” Straightening, he stood close to her, so close, she could smell his warm, cinnamon-scented breath.

I sure hope so.

She grinned and stepped over the threshold, only for the man to pull her arm, bringing her abruptly back to him, making her yo-yo and stumble clumsily against his chest.

Shit, he smells so good…

“Can I have a kiss before you go?”

“…We haven’t even had a first date, and I—”

Stifling her protests, he pressed his lips firmly into hers, and moaned as he gripped her tightly to his stiffened body. Upon contact, her body responded instantly and her libido flew through every active cell inside of her physique. Her damn groin was at it again, too—flipping, tossing, making waves. The kiss was full of pressure, tight, sensual, and dare she say it—devoted, as if the man were making love to her with his mouth, and his tongue hadn’t even dared to leave its hot, wet confines. He hooked one of his hands behind her neck, forcing her into him even more so, not leaving room for the air, the night nor a thought to form and process. It felt like some sort of tantric oral reflexology, which made her melt into him even further, lifeless as she was.

He finally released her.

“Alright, now you’re free to go.” He closed the door in her face, locked it and disappeared like a cocky phantom.

She stood there for a moment, staring at the damn closed door with the ‘Closed’ sign swinging against it from his abrupt departure. She didn’t know rather to laugh or scream as she touched her mouth, his kiss still searing her lips as she gently ran her fingertips along them.

Damn…

She savored the faint taste of cinnamon as she slicked her tongue along her bottom lip, taking Julian in, tasting him, absorbing him whole…

Mmmm… what a kisser…

‡

I
t was five
minutes after six, and the street corner restaurant had a rustic charm as it ushered in the thickening dinner crowd. The dusky brick building looked as if it had once been something else, something long forgotten. An oval, weatherworn sign, or possibly recently distressed emblem, hung from a rusted, iron rod high above, wedged between two darkened, dusty windows that hadn’t seen a bottle of Windex in a mighty long time. The sign read, ‘The Grit.’ Milan took a deep breath and waited as Julian opened the door to the establishment, allowing her to enter. She was immediately taken aback by the pungent, delicious aromas swirling abound, infused with paprika and peppercorn. The small tables were full of white people smiling and laughing, their forks busy and their mouths just as hardworking as they labored over their food and delighted each other with conversation.

Vegans and vegetarians…Oh joy…

Julian moved closer to her, delicately placing his arm around her waist as he bent forward to speak to the hostess in a hushed tone.

“Table for two, please.”

The woman nodded and negotiated the crowd and oddly placed tables, while Milan and her tattooed friend trailed close behind. He’d asked her where she’d like to go, and she made the mistake of saying ‘Surprise me.’ Nevertheless, she tried to stay optimistic, though it was a definite challenge. Soon they were seated, and menus placed before them.

“Now.” He opened his tariff, his eyes quickly scanning it as if he knew exactly what was there, but was simply doing his checks and balances. “I am assuming you aren’t vegetarian or vegan. Am I right?”

‘Sail’ by Awolnation played low in the background…

“I eat meat.” She crossed her legs and wrinkled her nose at the word, ‘tofu’ in one of the menu descriptions. Tofu was synonymous with Styrofoam, but that simply wasn’t fair. Styrofoam probably had more flavor.

“Uhhh huh.” That notorious smirk of his sneaked onto his face as he chewed his jaw, making it seem as if a toothpick should have been bobbing out the side of it. “I bet you will like this, Milan. The food here is really good.”

“I’ll try. I’m open to new things.”

Just as she finished her statement, he looked up at her, and something she couldn’t quite make out had made his smile fade. He kept a pleasant countenance, though, as he hooked his gaze with hers.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“When was the last time you had meat? Oh…thank you,” she said as someone came up and handed them two waters, and him an iced tea as well. He smoothed his napkin out with both hands, as if it were important to him that it stay tidy for his glass to be set upon it.

What a strange man.

“Over ten years ago. It was a burger.”

“You say it like you remember it fondly. Did you give that burger a name?” She teased as she crossed her ankles, settling a bit more into her seat.

He grinned a tad wider. “I didn’t know it would be my last burger. I bought it, went home, ate it and then stayed up all night to party with friends. I saw a documentary the following day about meat production. I’d already been contemplating to stop eating it, but that pretty much sealed the deal for me. I don’t like the ill treatment of the animals in the slaughterhouses; it’s unsanitary, and I don’t find it necessary to eat it. Not trying to tell others what to do though. Just for me, I’m not interested anymore. I feel a hell of a lot better, too.”

“Hmmmm.” She took another sip of her water through the black straw, leaving her red lipstick laden kiss upon the tip. “So, you’re cool dating a person that eats meat?”

He shrugged and looked back down at his menu. “Honestly, I’d prefer that my future girlfriend, whomever it may be, not eat it. The reason being is, I don’t want to be in a position to try and force anyone to do something for me, against their will, just to please me. I’d want them to do it because they want to. These things should happen naturally, through observation and education, you know?”

Milan nodded.

“I don’t want her to feel pressured, I want it to be sincere. If I fall in love with someone that eats meat, I just do, but it would be easier for me if they didn’t, is all. Plus, sex is better with vegetarians. One day I’d like to prove that to you.”

Milan sprayed water out of her mouth until it landed on his menu. As if nothing much had happened, he stifled a broad smile and gently dabbed at his menu with the napkin he’d just ironed out with his hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! You just…surprised me. Why do you say things like that?!”

“Things like what?” He looked up at her, as if truly clueless.

“You
know
what.”

“Well, it’s true.” He showed that sexy smile again, the one she loved to hate, then turned away, looking around the restaurant. “Is that not what men and women want?” He focused back on her.

“I would
hope
it would be more than that.” She stuck her lips out, certain she looked like a duck as she reprimanded him.

“Of course it’s
more
than that, but sex is a goal, right?” he argued. “Look, if I’m involved with someone, I expect that it will eventually happen. Do you not?” He appeared confused, as if she’d grown a horn in the middle of her damn forehead.

“I think when two people know that it’s the right time, they move forward. No need to plan out every little aspect of it. Otherwise, it is just premeditated nonsense and it gets people into a lot of trouble,” She said.

“Trouble, what kind of trouble?”

“Like not being on the same page. The woman may think she is in a relationship, and the man just sees her as a friend with benefits. That’s why giving things time, and for that chemistry to be there, is important. People don’t talk enough before sex happens to know where they stand, but some things just come about. There isn’t a discussion, you just kind of know.”