|
|
Post by Cameron Avery on May 30, 2011 18:49:39 GMT -8
Today he had wanted to sleep in as long as possible as it was one of the few days he took for himself to simply unwind and not have to worry about calming hot-headed newbies who figured running off with him would constitute a jolly good time. Early this morning (9:33am to be precise) he awoke for no good reason and simply couldn't force himself back to sleep despite being wrapped up in a warm cocoon of blankets with his feet sticking out (to sum it up: his favored sleeping position). A half-hour wasted on trying to lull himself back into that much desired REM cycle, Cameron had shoved back the covers, showered, dressed, and left his house in search of coffee. Fourty-five minutes after waking, coffee in hand, the blond jock found himself wandering the streets of Edmonton with one hand in his pocket.
It was a nice day to be out, Cameron thought as a cloud passed in front of a cloud and covered the town in shadow. He paused for a moment before a shop window and peered in. "Tattoos" read the text, and beyond it was a woman with a red fish and a blue fish tattooed on her shoulder blade, made visible by the cut of her tank-top. Not an owner of a tattoo, Cameron had wondered about the art once or twice in his life but had never seriously considered or looked into the concept. Deciding it was as good a day as any to further research such a thing he finished off his coffee, tossed the cup into a nearby trashcan, and entered the shop.
[/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by Pax Sokoll on May 30, 2011 19:05:21 GMT -8
There was little that Pax wasn’t doing these days - there was a persistent shuffle about her life, whether it be the business of owning one of Edmonton’s fastest-growing tattoo parlours or training horses on the side. Either or, business was booming, and her mind was about to explode with the same kind of grandeur. Between her life, her job, and looking for a house to call home for her and her horse Red, needless to say she was a little stressed out.
Always, though, she was relaxed at work. She had to be. Even if it hadn’t been a necessity, working at Pins & Needles grounded her. She was able to free herself, express her artist flair and permanently ink her pieces onto someone’s skin. There was an enjoyment to tattooing - the social interaction mixed with the atmosphere, the occasional drama, and the expressive aspect all kept her well-rounded and rooted to the planet. Now, as she sat in her rolling chair, immersed in a back piece for one of her clients, she bit her lip in concentration. There was nothing that could break her Zen right now - she was in the moment, in the business, in the aspect of who she was.
The sound of the tattoo gun masked the opening and closing of the shop door. It wasn’t supposed to be a busy day today, with only a few appointments and not yet being open for walk-ins, so Pax hadn’t expected many visitors. She was immersed in her work, delicately moving the gun along the guiding lines she had previously marked in washable ink on the client’s skin, occasionally wiping the fresh ink with petroleum jelly to keep the skin soft and malleable, and to remove excess ink. She surveyed her work with amber eyes, admiring the koi fish design she was working on with a smile. For a moment, though, the client paused, asking to take a break - Pax agree, putting the tattoo gun down for a while and asking the client if they wanted some water. Standing up to hit up the fridge, she was shocked.
There was her friend, Cameron Avery. The jockey, one of her closest friends. The jockey, one of her biggest “crushes”.
Crush was a horrible word. She hated thinking of him like that. In fact, she hated thinking of him in that way in general - they were friends, that was that. They worked together at the track, too - it wasn’t appropriate to feel that way for the shorter man. But she couldn’t help it; his rock hard body, his gorgeously chiseled face, and his stellar personality encapsulated her and often sent shivers down her spine. She shook her head though, realizing her silence was rude. ”Cameron, my man,” she spoke in a casual way, her voice feminine, but not high-pitched. Running a hand through her almost-black hair, she walked towards him. ”What brings you to my little shop of horrors?” Pax winked at him casually, taking the water over to her client and opening the bottle, noting that she would give the other woman a few minutes to relax before they finished the piece. |
|
|
|
Post by Cameron Avery on May 30, 2011 21:02:22 GMT -8
Surprised to hear his name in a tattoo parlor of all places the man first looked from the corner of his eye (maybe they're talking to someone else?), and upon recognizing a familiar face as it moved across the shop he shifted his right foot backward, turning his body with it, and looked to Pax with a small smile. "Hey," he offered quietly, looking from the woman receiving the tattoo to Pax as she crossed the shop to get the water. Holding his ground, he stuffed both hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. "Came to see the giant talking plant," he said jokingly, taking an unsure step towards the artist and her living canvas. He couldn't help but think how painful something like that would be to get -- something permanently added to your skin. This is one reason why he shied away from the thought of adding a permanent image to his body: what if one day he woke up and thought 'I hate it.' Of course the Thoroughbreds he worked with had tattoos, but in a mightily uncomfortable place. He unconsciously ran his tongue over the skin inside his top lip and grimaced. Ouch!
"Felt like enjoying a new kind of art-" he paused and looked to the walls where designs were displayed "-and learning about it." For a second he stood looking at some chaotic design which warranted a view in several different directions (tilting his head one way and then another he came to notice a snake, a frog, and possibly a lizard buried away in the chaos of lines). Turning, he looked to Pax. "I didn't know you worked here."
[/justify] |
|
|
|
Post by Pax Sokoll on Jun 2, 2011 19:03:00 GMT -8
Cameron and Pax had always had an interesting relationship. Most people judged her immediately on appearances alone - something she had come to grow used to, but still something that occasionally got on her nerves. Cam, on the other hand, had not - despite the fact she was tattooed literally head to toe, the man had instantly made a connection with her, and the two quickly had become fast friends. Though business partners for some aspects (Cameron rode many of the horses she trained, and owned), the two had quickly bonded and found their similarities. Tattoos, piercings, and related “taboo” subjects weren’t something they ever discussed, save for the odd explanation of one of Pax’s pieces or a particular technique used. Otherwise, it was a nil, no-talkie subject that she didn’t mind holding back on.
But seeing him here, and having not forced him to come, made Pax wonder; was he having a change of heart? He was surprised to find out she worked here - it wasn’t a particularly large secret, but Pax supposed they’d never really discussed the fineries of her employment save for her small amount of work at the track. Hell, Cameron would be in his right mind to assume that was her full-time job - but Pax was a woman who responded well to challenge, and the very thought of having a thriving business as well as a horse training operation seemed the perfect intellectual pursuit.
She grinned and laughed at his remark, shrugging slightly. As he looked at the variety of scratch work on the wall, the various sketches and potential tattoos, her eyes picked him over - in the most friendly of ways, of course. He looked so handsome, so refined; such an opposite to her. It was an immediate turn-on for Pax, despite the fact many presumed she’d like the “bad boy” type; looks were truly deceiving, as it was in the case of Edmonton’s newest (and hottest) tattoo parlor owner. She laughed again, running a hand through her long and thick brunette locks, shrugging. ”Yeah, decided to start a business. I’ve been doing this for years - its about god damn time I got my own shop.” Pax bit her lower lip, picking at her fingers, as was anxious habit. ”You want to watch me finish this piece?” She gestured to the woman lying, belly down, on the massage table in the corner. If Cameron was going to come in and learn about this form of art, he’d best see it first hand.
|
|
|
|
Post by Cameron Avery on Jun 10, 2011 17:43:49 GMT -8
Cameron looked from Pax to the client who was currently the canvas for a very inky portrait. A nervous tendency of his (when he had no ice to chew on) was to bite the inside of his cheek. He never drew blood -- that made him sick, having that taste in his mouth, and it would just plain worry him. Inflicting intentional pain on himself just wasn't a technique he partook in. The blond took a step towards the table, paused, and then took one more. "Sure," he said quietly, leaning forward to get a better look at what would eventually become another walking work of art. A grin tweaked the edges of Cameron's lips as he glanced at Pax. "It's good to see you at work in your element," Cameron said, his eyes briefly dancing over the visible ink on Pax's skin. For a moment he tied to imagine him with a tattoo -- and subsequently failed. What would it be like to have a permanent patch of skin that hosted a design? To go a step further, what would the design be? It left him baffled -- if he did, eventually, desire a tattoo, what in God's name would he get? The thought occupied the man's head for a moment until some ballsy part of him put an end to it: "if you ever get the chance just strip down to your birthday suit, lie flat on the table, and tell her to come up with a design."
The thought (and mental image that popped up with it) was so startling and embarrassing that the man took an uneasy step to the side as his face lit up as if he were a jack-o-lantern and someone had placed a candle inside of him. To complete the image a goofy grin contorted his lips.
Cameron coughed, for his own benefit, and turned his face away from any searching eyes, and closely examined the floor until the heat was gone from his cheeks. Nonono, he chided, casting his eyes about for a final swooping view around the room (to give him just a few more seconds) before returning his sight to Pax. The two had been friends for some time, but throughout the friendship Cameron had found the woman attractive, the seed feeling which lead to such thoughts from time to time. "How- How long does something like that take?" He asked, hopefully before anyone could comment on the strange behavior. The man motioned to the still unfinished tattoo on the woman.
[/justify] |
|
