The Real Estate Connection Ch. 05

“So you’ll come with me will you baby?” I could see that she was a bit anxious about the whole tattooing procedure so I gave her the low down on tattoo art from the perspective of the customer. It set her mind at ease and we decided that it might be prudent to go and phone for an appointment at the tattoo parlour. The need for modesty was long gone so we picked up our clothes and wandered, still naked, into the house and headed into the library. A quick flick through the phone book later and Stevie was talking to the owner and artist of KJ’s Tatts, KJ herself. It took only a couple of minutes before an excited Stevie hung up and informed me that she would be getting inked at 10.00 in the morning.

“There goes my lie in,” I sighed theatrically. “See, if you were a man you wouldn’t need me to come and hold your hand while you got inked.”

“If I was a man baby, you wouldn’t want more of this fantastic ass and pussy.” Her grin was taunting.

“You have a point there baby… you have a point.” Her grin was infectious. “Okay wench, what do you want for dinner? I’m cooking so you can order anything you want as long as it includes steak, asparagus, broccoli and carrots.”

“I guess I’ll have steak, asparagus, broccoli, and carrots. Tell you what… I’ll do desert. Just give me a couple of minutes to get dressed and call Becky and I’ll join you in the kitchen okay?” With that she bounced out the door naked and headed upstairs to dress, still holding her clothes. I knew I had about 45 minutes before she reappeared so I pulled on my jeans and wandered over to the stereo. Hitting the power switch on the CD player I opened the 5 disc carousel and then moved to the bags we had got at Borders. Flicking through my CD purchases, I soon had 5 discs sorted out. I loaded them into the player and hit the play button after turning on the amp and turning the volume down low. It was a typically eclectic mix. Nickleback, The Black Eyed Peas, George Thoroughgood, Beethoven and John Lee Hooker. I selected random play on the remote control and collapsed on the couch to mellow out for a while. Nickleback was up first and I had to grin at the lyrics of ‘I Figured You Out’.

I like your pants around your feet And I like the dirt that’s on your knees And I like the way you still say please While you’re looking up at me You’re like my favourite damned disease…

A far cry from the Latin beats I was used to but a damned good song. The guitar riffs carried me away to a time when my only burning ambition was to become a member of a hot rock band. I’d played the drums and was a fair singer but in reality there were plenty of guys like me out there with more ambition and a lot more skill and dedication. I’d found my true calling in the jungle. It was what I was good at and now my fondest wish was that I could translate my combat and military organisational skills into a sound security company. The security company idea had been a dream of mine since my first assignment as a mercenary. I let the music wash over me as I lay back and daydreamed about the company and how I could make it succeed.

Stevie found me lying there wrapped up in my dreams an hour later. Eroica by Beethoven was playing but if you had asked me I couldn’t have told you what had come between that and Nickleback. Stevie had changed into a pair of snug cargo shorts and an old Van Halen t-shirt. Her hair was freshly washed and brushed and it gleamed in the waning light. She smiled softly as she slid onto the couch and snuggled up to me.

“Penny for your thoughts baby?”

We talked about our business aspirations for about an hour then got up and wandered through to the kitchen. I discovered that she wanted to franchise her operation, much like Century 21 had done. Her business plan was a sound one. Her company only dealt with high end properties like mine and was easily managed by a couple of dedicated staff. For the first time I discovered that there was a third salesperson working at the company with her and Matt. He was due back tomorrow having been away on vacation for the past 2 weeks. Matt would also be back on deck tomorrow as would Becky but Stevie had decided to take a bit of personal time. Becky had told her on the phone that she and Matt had decided to spend the night at her place and they would see us at the office tomorrow after Stevie’s appointment at KJ’s.

Hemi and Joanne wandered in while we were preparing the vegetables.

“So what are we having for dinner boss? Stevie did you know that this guy knows more ways to cook snake than anyone I have ever come across? His reptile au gratin has to be tasted to be believed. He also does a mean monkey.” Stevie’s gasp of horror made me grin.

“Baby when you run out of freeze dried rations in the jungle, you learn to eat anything you can catch. Besides, monkey tastes just like…”

“Chicken!” said Hemi and I at the same time. Everyone laughed at this, mainly I think because it was an old chestnut that was rolled out every time someone couldn’t adequately describe a new meat’s taste.

“Where are Sam and Liz?” I asked.

“Last I heard they were still playing in his room. I figure he’s going to skip dinner. He was talking about taking her out to a little Italian place later. La Principessa’s I think it was. Anyway, he’ll probably be tied up for a while. So what’s for dinner?”

I sighed and grabbed another couple of steaks from the freezer while Stevie giggled and got more vegetables from the fridge.

“It’s funny how my guest bedrooms have suddenly become ‘your room’ or ‘Sam’s room’. And now you’re eating me out of house and home. I should be charging you guys rent,” I said with mock severity.

“Hah! It’ll never happen boss. You love us too much! Besides we figure we’ll have to stay close so once all this shit is sorted out you’ll be able to offer us jobs in your security firm. I mean where else are you going to get two experienced guys like us? We don’t just grow on trees you know.”

“You’re wrong there buddy… guys like you do grow on trees. Big ugly trees. Here make yourself useful and grab a couple of pots and the steamers.” Joanne and Stevie were cutting up vegetables as Hemi and I bantered. Once in a while during the discussion I felt Joanne’s eyes on me. I felt uncomfortable but couldn’t put my finger on the reason for my feeling. Gradually Joanne seemed to loosen up and join in with the discussion and soon we were all sitting out on the deck demolishing large helpings of steak and vegetables. In comparison to the last few nights, we had a nice relaxing evening. Sam and Liz emerged about half way through dinner and confirmed that they were headed off to dinner at La Principessa’s. He was holding a package which he passed to me.

“Carmichael dropped these off earlier Craig. I think it’s the file on Montoya that you asked for. Have fun kiddies and don’t be up too late… it’s a school night remember.” With that, he and a grinning Liz left.

I tossed the three inch thick file down beside my chair and carried on with dinner. There was no way I was going to ruin my mellow mood until I really had to. After the dinner dishes were cleared up and washed, Stevie and I retired to the library where Stevie pulled a book from her bag and curled up on the couch to read. I pulled the file on Montoya out and sat down at the desk to learn as much about my adversary as I could. I would need a copy of this info for later reference so I kicked the computer into life and scanned each page into my system as I finished reading it. As I suspected it was heavily edited. There wasn’t much there that wasn’t available in the public domain but as sure as god created little green apples there was a hell of a lot missing. The most disturbing piece of information I picked up from the file was that Montoya had a contact right here in Richmond. The person was un-named but I’d bet my favourite underpants that he wasn’t unknown. Carmichael would have a dossier on him, or her, buried somewhere at Langley but for some reason there was no way he was going to share. I couldn’t see the local cops having much info if any on Montoya but I made a mental note to check with Lee.

The rest of the evening was spent just relaxing and enjoying each others company. Hemi and Joanne stayed up in Hemi’s bedroom so we basically had the house to ourselves. We read, talked and planned Stevie’s move from her place to mine. At nine o’clock we tuned in to the news channel to see what sort of story our morning’s excitement would provide. To our surprise there was no coverage. Lee must have had something to do with that. It was yet another thing I would have to thank him for… the list was growing. After the news we climbed the stairs to our room. It seemed strange thinking of it as our room, but then I really hadn’t even become used to it being my room. It was going to take a while to fully adjust to this civilian lifestyle.

Stevie and I shared a shower and then fell into bed where we made love slowly before falling asleep exhausted. Tomorrow was going to be a hectic day. Stevie’s tattoo appointment was going to take up most of the morning and then we were going to start moving clothing and a few odds and ends from her place to mine. I also wanted to join the gym that Matt and Mike, the transport company owner, belonged to. I fell asleep with a smile on my face and the woman I loved snoring gently on my chest.

“Honey… wake up baby. It’s time to get up sexy man.” Stevie’s gentle crooning voice woke me the next morning. I left my eyes shut to gradually become used to the fact that another day was here and I was no longer in the jungle. It was so peaceful I felt myself dropping off again when… “WAKE UP BABY!!!” My 7,000 decibel wake up call almost burst my eardrums. I shot bolt upright, my head colliding with Stevie’s as she leaned in to whisper more sweet nothings in my ear.

“JESUS CHRIST WOMAN! You trying to deafen me lady?” Her grinning face instantly defused my attempt at grumpiness. How the hell could I be shitty with a woman who looked as good as she did?

“Get up you grouchy bastard or I won’t cook you breakfast. It’s tattoo day and we’ve gotta get moving.” She was already dressed depriving me of my morning display of naked female flesh. The idea of a Stevie cooked breakfast appealed to me though.

“Okay wench… you make breakfast while I grab a shower. It better be a damned good breakfast baby. I have very high culinary standards.” She grinned and bounced off the bed and scampered for the door.

“Gimme half an hour sexy!” her words floated back to me over her shoulder as she disappeared downstairs. With a sigh I dragged my sorry ass out of bed and headed for the shower. Half an hour later I walked into a sight reminiscent of the old news reel footage of London after the Blitz. The debris was scattered over every possible work surface and a good part of the floor. Stevie turned proudly from the stove holding a plate of food the likes of which I have never seen before or since. She had gone all out in her enthusiasm to produce the ultimate breakfast for me.

Hash browns accompanied a steak so big it was hanging over the side of the plate. There were grilled tomatoes, and a couple of eggs on top of that and covering the whole lot there was a small mountain of pancakes. It was enough to feed a small army. I was almost as hungry as a small army but it would definitely be too much for me on my own. At least it all looked good… individually. As a meal it looked diabolical.

“Breakfast is served my Lord.” After her proud declaration I didn’t have the heart to tell her it looked terrible.

“Thank you honey but you shouldn’t have. I was just thinking about a nice bowl of cereal and maybe some toast.”

“TOAST! I forgot the toast!” She looked heartbroken. I felt so sorry for her I had to laugh.

“This is perfect baby. Grab a plate and you can help me eat it. There’s way too much here for me, and I figure you need fattening up. You redistribute these calories and I’ll grab the coffee… we’ll eat on the deck.”

The steak was done just perfectly and the hash browns were spot on. The eggs were a little on the well done side and the tomatoes were underdone. The pancakes were a total write off. They had the consistency of rubber and tasted like wet cardboard. I would have sent them back in a restaurant but when the cook is the woman you love and she’s sitting across the table from you smiling lovingly at you, the last thing you do is criticise her cooking.

She was really excited about the prospect of getting her first tattoo and for the whole meal kept bombarding me with questions about tattoo work… the same questions she had asked me last night… and yesterday afternoon. She was driving me crazy so I suggested that I clean up the kitchen before we left for town as a means of getting away from the grilling I was getting. She got the message.

“Okay baby. I get the hint,” she laughed. “Come on… we’ll both clean the kitchen. Then we can get into town quicker.”

Just after nine o’clock saw us driving into town to get Stevie’s ink. The studio was easy to find. It was only a few blocks from Stevie’s office in a good area of the city. I was able to find a park right outside the shop after a quiet and uneventful trip into town. Apparently we were yesterday’s news as far as the media were concerned. That puzzled me a little bit. American journalists aren’t known for giving up on a story easily. I’d have to find out what they had been told. We locked the truck and headed in to get Stevie tattooed. I walked into my first surprise of the day.

The tattoo studio wasn’t what I expected. From my own experience I was used to small inconspicuous premises with a single neon sign saying ‘Tattoo’ in the window. The interiors were usually dark and ordinary with masses of A4 sheets of tattoo designs known as flash adorning the walls. Burn marks from abandoned cigarette butts usually marked any wooden surfaces and the studios usually smelled of sweat, stale cigarette smoke, and mustiness. Any furniture usually looked like it had been grabbed from a Salvation Army Thrift shop and the counter was usually so battle scarred and dirty, that it could be classed as a new life form. Any carpet or floor space was usually covered in cigarette burns and dirt. It was what I had experienced in many years of tattoo parlour hopping. KJ’s Tatts was a whole new incarnation of the tattoo studio for me.

The frontage was bright and breezy with a garland of huge tropical flowers painted on the windows. ‘KJ’s Tatts’ was emblazoned across the window in a funky multi coloured script with a picture of a tattoo gun at the end of the ‘s’ on Tatts as if it had been tattooed onto the window. Stepping inside completely blew all of my expectations into the weeds. The place was spotless! The floor and ceiling were painted a deep red, almost blood red and the walls were done in a muted brown with bamboo hangings scattered around randomly. It smelled of tropical plants and frangipani incense. The lighting was soft but bright without being intrusive and one wall had soft spotlights focused on it. It was perfect for browsing the flash sheets which were arranged in swivelling poster racks on the walls. Pictures were scattered around the walls. Framed poster sized black and white photos of naked women; always in shadow, often only exhibiting a breast with a pierced nipple, or a pierced navel. All very tasteful. Ferns and potted tropical plants were scattered around the room which looked like something out of a Hawaiian tiki bar. Stone gargoyles and statuettes of Hawaiian gods peeped through the foliage every once in a while.

A huge bamboo framed couch stood in the middle of the room covered with a Hawaiian print futon. In front of it stood a low coffee table, also made of bamboo with a glass top. It was covered by stacks of well preserved tattoo magazines. Two armchairs that matched the couch stood close to the table while on a small bamboo bench there was a coffee machine and next to it a water cooler. Coffee cups stood clean alongside sugar and a container of packets of creamer. The reception counter fit in perfectly with the rest of the décor. It was chest high with a split bamboo front at the centre of which was a ceremonial mask. Off to the side of the counter in the corner against the wall was the real showpiece of the décor. A small stone fountain with a fake rock pool. Looking down on the pool was a grinning squatting gargoyle. The water in the pool was giving off steam. It was really an eye opener to walk into a place like this and find so much difference from the norm. The whole thing was done really tastefully and had obviously been a big gamble on the proprietor’s part.

I was hugely impressed. As a retro/ art deco effort it was a major success. Stevie seemed to agree with me. She wandered the room gazing in wonder at the art and décor. I was puzzled by her wonder for a moment until I realised that she probably had the same preconceived notions that most people have of tattoo parlours… the same images that I had become used to in reality.

“Make yourselves comfortable, I’ll be right with you.” The voice was definitely female and came from the back room which was blocked off with a bamboo curtain. I could hear her moving around and the clink of her cleaning up the tools of her trade. If she was any good at her work she was getting rid of the old needles and loading her other instruments into an autoclave for sterilisation.

Stevie and I sat down on the incredibly comfortable couch and waited as the person behind the counter continued.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting. My last appointment went a bit longer than I’d anticipated. She kept on adding bits into the design. If you’ll just give me a couple more minutes I’ll be right out. Are you Stevie?”

“Yeah that’s me. Take your time… I’m still trying to absorb the awesome décor here. It’s not what I expected.” Stevie’s voice obviously carried clearly to the back room as her last comment was greeted with a throaty chuckle.

“Yeah it seems to shock a lot of people. That’s why I set it up this way. It relaxes them so by the time I get my claws into them they’re ready to get down to the business of getting inked.” There was a rustling noise at the bamboo curtain and the owner of the voice stepped through and walked over to us.

“Hi I’m KJ,” she said extending her hand. We stood and shook hands. Stevie made the introductions.

“I’m Stevie Grey and this gorgeous hunk is my latest victim and moral support Craig Miller.” KJ’s laugh was full of mirth and I knew instinctively that we were going to have a lot of fun with this woman.

KJ stood just under 6 foot tall in mid thigh, soft leather pirate styled boots with a 4 inch stiletto heel. The legs that emerged from the top of the boots were very shapely and poured into faded blue jeans that hugged her like a second skin. The jeans were held in place with a wide black leather belt with a half sized tattoo gun as a buckle. The rest of her curvy figure was clad in a black satin corset, the top of which seemed to be fighting a losing battle to contain her breasts, the tops of which were tattooed with the designs disappearing under her corset. Her bare arms were also tattooed and the work was exquisite. Her black hair fell just past her shoulders and was partly covered by a red and white bandana tied in the back. A leather choker wrapped around her throat and had a ‘D’ ring in the front like a collar, exactly like a collar actually, and large silver hoops hung from her ears.

Her face was oval and she wore very little makeup. She simply didn’t need it. Her eyes had a little eyeliner, black, and a bit of eye shadow, a light brown. The brown was carried through to the lipstick she wore along with a coat of lip gloss. For all this it was her eyes that really struck me. They were a stunning green and damned sexy. I didn’t realise I was staring until Stevie spoke.