Her long, curly hair was that of a beauty queen, but those tattoo sleeves begged to differ. What's more her spandex scoop neck spoke volumes and there was a strength visible in her curvy frame. When I introduced myself I found that the deep, red-brown flame of her hair was matched only by the fire in eyes
-Can I help you?
Her voice was acerbic, liquid steel, irritation bubbled distinctly on the surface.
-I just thought we should talk shop a little. We're both here getting something done, right? At worst we'd pass the time.
We were in a tattoo parlour downtown and I was about to get what might've been the stupidest ink job of my life. In my 32 years I'd never found "the one" and was damn sure she didn't exist. I know, I know, major sob story. I'm not asking for sympathy though, I'm just sayin. Anyhow, that day I was going to fill in the space on my left pec that I'd been saving for Miss Right. Yeah, you got it: right over my heart. So I'm a romantic -I say anybody who ain't, hasn't lived.
It's been years since that day and yet, I can still recall exactly the tat I was going in for: a big ass Gibson logo, with a first name of "Betsy". That's right; I was immortalizing my guitar, just like I told you: real stupid idea. I gotta tell you though, if you've heard this guitar, you might think twice about it too.
-Jackie, who IS this man? And WHAT is he doing here?
She seemed to be something of a regular as the receptionist turned round behind the desk to answer her.
-Ease up Cherry. This gentleman's been coming here for a few weeks now. Just because you're not up this early most days...
-I can see you'll be no help. Well, if you must know, I'm getting a barbell for my eyebrow this morning.
-Nice, that'll look fan-fucking-tastic up there, eh?
-That's the idea... and you?
-Oh you know, getting some work done on my chest; a little something for my Les Paul y'know. Give'r the respect she deserves.
-Your
guitar
? Real smooth.
-She has a point Grant. It
is
a little immature.
-What, you too? Fine, fine.
I took my shirt off and stood up from my seat near the reception desk. Jackie'd had seen at least that much of me before but this Cherry I'd just met. I got the impression she liked what she saw. What can I say? I like to keep active: weightlifting, yoga and a marathon or two. I'm sure my other tattoos didn't hurt either.
-What do you ladies think'd go better? I'm open to suggestions here.
-I think you need a real woman up there Grant. It'd be all romantic, a tattoo of her name across your heart.
-Aw, Jackie, you know me. I've never met a woman who could stick around me very long.
-And none of them were worth keeping in the first place Grant, you know that.
-What? Does he think a woman can't keep up with him?
-Just that none has ever wanted to. You'd like to prove me wrong?
-Oh boy, I don't like were this is heading kids...Would you mind taking it outside?
Cherry stood, she only came up to my shoulders but by her posture you'd never have known. Terse frame or no, I knew that in spirit she was second to none. The red-head closed the gap between our bodies, pushing in closer until we touched. Shooting up on her toes Cherry grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me into a wild, dynamic kiss. Her tongue forced its way in as I struggled for breath. She tasted of cinnamon and a crimson sunrise; I was lost in the brisk, sensual vitality of her lips.
Somehow remaining composed long enough to find a hairpin or two, I freed her wavy curls and felt them fall to her shoulders. At this Jackie drew the line.
-Can you two not get a