Bequest

Chapter 11

Five beautiful burlesque dancers wearing halter neck dresses, their hair twisted into victory rolls, dyed orange, red or maroon, danced on the stage. They had slim waists and their bodies were finely decorated with feminine tattoos—portraits of their lover; a great grey owl; a manga cartoon; a penny-farthing bicycle. These girls were divine to watch, but Mike knew they would never be into him. Even though he was a great tattoo artist, he rarely scored girls like this. He was more likely to go home with their rounder sidekick. Beautiful in her own way, she'd often have large breasts he could bury his head in; he'd smell her Japanese perfume and taste the sweat of her fat, desperate desire.

He'd been doing the Body Art Expo circuit for six years now, Sydney, Perth, Adelaide and Melbourne. He liked the glamorous girls in Sydney the most, but Melbourne was a close second. Coming from small-town Adelaide, these big city expos were a smorgasbord of hot, sensual pussy. There was something about all these bodies being on display all day that licked the flame of lust; hormones flew as freely as dandelion seeds in the wind. After the tattoo machines were packed away for the night, and the bins were being emptied, then the real fun began . . . but that was still hours away.

Having been up at five a.m. to get there from his hotel, he was tired and it wasn't even lunchtime as yet. He'd tattooed five people already, including two first-timers. One of them had picked an absolutely terrible design of a black panther that he wasn't happy to put his name to. Especially because he was working next to Ruthless Ruth, who'd come out from LA for this year's expos. Her marble cleavage was a distraction whilst he was working. She had long dark hair, freshly curled and spiralling down one shoulder. Her painted red nails matched her red lipstick, and a seductive geisha covered most of her left arm. She had three matryoshka dolls on her back, exposed by her backless dress. He imagined her naked breasts and wanted to uncloak what was inked on the front of her body. He imagined the constellation of Pisces on the side of her right breast, and couldn't stop thinking about taking her nipples between his teeth and holding her roughly between the legs at the same time. She most likely had a flower tattooed inside her vagina.

His next customer killed the throb in his pants. He was older than anyone he'd tattooed before. He was bald and wore silver-rimmed glasses. His knees shook as he sat himself down on the tattoo bed. It looked as though he had a full body suit, from neck to ankles. Despite his over-ripe, hoary skin, Mike admired the distinct artistry in the work on his arms.

'Nice ink, mate,' he greeted the old man.

'Thanks,' the man said. 'It's been a while since I got my last tattoo. Maybe ten years or so.'

'How's your ticker?'

'Fine, I think.' The man's hands seemed to tremble just slightly and one eye looked a little wonky.

'What are you wanting today?'

'Just an X behind the ear.' The old man pointed to a spot just behind his left ear.

'Any special meaning?'

'It's for the artist that worked on my body for over twenty years. You may have heard of her? X. We were at this very expo one year as special guests and my body was on display. They made me wear a red G-string and prance around on that stage over there.'

'Probably before my time,' Mike said. A simple X was dead easy. He'd probably be able to fit one more person in before lunchtime, and then he was thinking of scoring a concentration treat from Vincent Dean. The expo day was long, and the environment wore him out. It reminded him of a hospital ward in a war zone, people lying on beds in pain, grown men crying, sterile white pads wiping away blood from patients. The music was loud and overbearing, and whose stupid idea was it to have a motorbike doing stunts in the centre of the expo? He'd have to give some feedback again. His head was already pounding. He far preferred the quiet of his own studio in Glenelg, but he now felt compelled to do the expo circuit every year to get his work out there in the tattoo community.

'Have you got an idea about the type of lettering and the colour?' he asked the old man, who unbuttoned his shirt and lifted it awkwardly.

'See on my back there's the wording "Once all struggle is grasped, miracles are possible"? Can you copy that kind of lettering?'

'Sure, sure. Same size as well? Black?'

'Yep.'

'Okay, lie down and make yourself comfortable.' Mike prepped for the tattoo, assembling a sterile needle into the tattoo machine and dipping the tip into a cap of black ink. He gently touched the man's head, turned his face towards him, and drew the X in the spot behind his ear with a marker first. The man didn't even flinch when the needle pierced him for the first time. Despite the back of the ear being a very sensitive spot, the old man lay there as though he was finally getting scratched in the very place that he itched. Bliss rippled across his face.