Dorian's Destiny: Altered (11 page)

“I think so.” He smiled. “Do you always
invite potential stalkers to late night rendezvous?”

“No, you're the first,” she
stammered, his smile nearly melting her into the iron
bench.

“Glad to know you don't make it a habit,” he
smirked, attempting to conceal his deep concern. “While I am
honored to be the first, don't you think it's dangerous?”

With her boldness returning and the effects
of his smile fading, she chimed confidently, “Maybe, but I figured
if you meant me any harm, you would have had plenty of
opportunities before now to conduct your misdeed. So, are you ready
to admit you've been following me?”

He laughed nervously. “You must have an
overactive imagination. That's the only explanation for how you
came up with such a ridiculous idea from simply seeing me sitting
on a bench outside a store you happen to be shopping in.”

“Well, you are definitely more articulate,
but you're still a liar. I hope you don't pride yourself on your
stealth because you are horrible. By the way, I know you followed
me last night even after I asked you not too. Is that big oak
outside my apartment your preferred hiding place when you're spying
on young women?” She questioned, hoping she was a better liar than
she accused him of being.

Dumbstruck by her knowledge of what he
thought was the perfect vantage point for undiscovered protection,
he only gawked at her.

Megan changed subjects when she noticed she
wasn't going to get any answers. “Do you have to wear those shades
or are you trying to look mysterious?”

Appreciative of the change in subject and
her no longer grilling him about his stalking, he readily explained
his need for protective eye-wear even at this late hour. “I have an
extreme sensitivity to light. So yes, I wear them most of the
time.”

“It's not overly bright where we are in the
park, so could you stand to remove them?” She asked, hopeful she
would get a glimpse of his lovely blue eyes.

“I'll try.” He slowly removed his shades,
giving his eyes time to adjust.

She barely contained herself as his
memorizing blue eyes peered back at her. “That's better. Now we can
properly introduce ourselves and stop being only known as stalker
and stalkee. I'm Megan Miller.” She offered her right hand to
shake.

He frowned briefly at her offered hand,
squeamish to grasp it. Many months had passed without physical
contact, except to feed. “Dorian Gray,” he announced after finally
accepting her outstretched hand. The spark that ignited between
them enchanted and alarmed him at the same time. He hastily, but
grudgingly released his grip.

“Nice to meet you, Dorian. Now that the
formalities are out of the way, let's get back to the stalking,”
she blurted, trying to focus her own intense feelings.

He cursed silently. He hoped the stalking
subject wouldn't resurrect itself. He pondered whether to continue
to lie, avoid the subject, or tell the truth. If he told the truth,
he knew her next question would be why. He hadn't exactly figured
that part out yet. “I'm sorry to disappoint you but I haven't been
stalking you. I could though, if you'd like me too?” he responded,
smiling slyly.

Blood rushed to Megan's cheeks, threatening
to soon color them to match her hair. Too embarrassed to respond
with the YES she felt like screaming, she only returned his
smile.

They observed each other for a few silent,
awkward moments, neither able to look away, drawn to one another
like opposite ends of a magnet. Finally, he broke the gaze of her
moss green eyes. Eyes that transported him back to the forest of
his youth to a simpler time in his life; another world, one without
monsters. He reluctantly forced himself back to his current life in
a world where monsters were most definitely real and he was one of
them. Needing time to comprehend the feelings she elicited in him,
he suggested, “It's getting late. Would you like me to walk you
home?”

“Sure, thank you,” she replied, though far
from ready to end the evening.

He held open the outer door to her building
after walking her home in silence. “Goodnight. If you need me, I'll
be under the big oak.” He smiled, hoping that by turning the
stalking issue into a joke, she would let it go.

“Goodnight.” She smiled
back, hoping his last words were not just a joke. “I enjoyed my
evening. Maybe we should do it again, say, same time next week.”
Shocked over being uncharacteristically forward, she caught
herself, about to cover her mouth with her hand.

“Next week then.” He promised.

Dorian's obsession for Megan peaked after
conversing with her. Thus, his time between her and Thomas of late
wasn't as evenly divided as he had planned. Having ditched him for
nearly a week, he decided to spend the evening with his friend. He
feared if he didn't humor Thomas with his presence, he might become
curious about what occupied his time.

“Glad to have you back on the dark side,”
Thomas laughed, patting Dorian on the back. “To commemorate your
return, let's get matching tattoos.”

“You're kidding right?” Dorian groaned,
rolling his eyes.

“Of course not! You’re my best friend,
actually you're my only friend, so it’s high time we seal the deal,
so to speak.” Thomas responded earnestly.

Not falling for his sincerity, Dorian
countered. “But our skin will just heal, so what's the point?”

“It's the thought that counts, remember?”
Thomas added, before flashing his infamous sinister grin. “Anyway,
won't the look on the humans’ faces be priceless when our tattoos
vanish?”

“If you say so,” Dorian sighed.

*****

Not an inch of exposed skin on either of the
two tattoo artists remained unadorned. In fact, the male's large
frame was impaled with so much metal, if he walked through a metal
detector it would explode. Although Dorian was a vampire and could
effortlessly rip the guy in half, he was intimated by his massive
size. This, of course, was the artist Thomas had chosen for his
'best friend'. Thomas' artist of choice, although just as tattooed
and pierced, was female and half his size.

“This is my friend's first tattoo and he's a
little shy,” Thomas informed 'Tiny' as he grabbed Dorian in a
headlock and rubbed his head before he wrenched free. “Especially
about the tattoo he wants to celebrate his life choices.” He leaned
in and whispered in Tiny's ear.

“What did he say?!” Dorian demanded,
smoothing out his ruffled hair.

“He told me what tattoo
you wanted and
where
you wanted it,” Tiny replied with an overly obliging
smile.

“And?!” Dorian barked, glancing nervously
back and forth between Thomas' wicked smile and Tiny's inviting
one.

“He told me to tattoo 'COME IN' across your
ass,” gushed Tiny, obviously excited by the prospect of tattooing
Dorian's backside.

Laughter erupted from Thomas, realizing his
joke was going much farther than he intended.

How fortuitous to happen upon a giant
queer.

“Whhaat?” Dorian stammered. “Why would I
want 'come in' tattooed on my ass?” He asked his bent over friend.
“Thomas, why are you laughing so hard?”

Straightening himself, Thomas jeered. “Oh,
Dorian, I never tire of your innocence.” Patting Dorian on the
back, he led him away from the two tattoo artists. One hand on
Dorian's shoulder, Thomas attempted to explain the joke to his
naive friend. “It's a joke, Dorian, about your sexual preference.
Let's just say, if you tried to kiss Tiny, he wouldn't push you
away.” Thomas glanced back, spotting Tiny ogling Dorian. “No,
judging from the look he's giving you, he would enjoy making you
his bitch.”

Knocking Thomas' hand from his shoulder,
Dorian huffed, “I know you enjoy my lack of sexual knowledge, but
I'm tired of always being the butt of your jokes.”

Dorian's choice of words ignited Thomas'
laughter once again. After receiving a not so pleasant look from
his friend, he tried to calm himself. “Sorry, your choice of words
was too much. Butt? I couldn't help but laugh.”

“Fuck you, Thomas!” Dorian snapped.

“If anyone's getting fucked, it's you.”
Thomas teased, unable to resist another jab.

“Ha-ha! I'm leaving!”
Dorian yelled, Thomas' last remark the final straw.

Blocking the exit, Thomas placed both hands
on Dorian's chest to hold him back. “No, don't go. I'll behave.
I'll even smooth things over with your boyfriend.” Dorian shoved
him away from the door, but before he could escape, Thomas once
again grabbed him by the shoulder. “Okay, okay!” Thomas pleaded,
turning his friend back around to face him. “I'll explain it was
all a joke. Scouts' honor.” Thomas held up three fingers on his
right hand.

“Scouts' honor?” Dorian asked. “And why the
hell are you holding up your fingers?”

“It's the boy scout
salute.” Thomas informed Dorian, who just stared back clueless.
“It's a group for adolescent boys who teach useful skills and
instill honor and virtue – like how to build a fire and help the
elderly. I was a member in my youth. I probably still have the
uniform.”

The image of a young Thomas dressed in a
uniform helping an old lady with her groceries was too much. Dorian
bent over laughing, clutching his abdomen. After catching his
breath, he joked, “Well, they failed because you don't have any
honor.”

“Ha, that's true,” Thomas retorted, flashing
his fangs, happy to be the butt of the joke if it improved Dorian's
mood. “Let's go back in. You don't even have to get tattooed, just
stay and enjoy the show with me.”

“Fine.” Dorian balked, removing his friend's
hand yet again from his shoulder.

“Fantastic!” Thomas clapped. “You're going
to enjoy what's on the menu for this evening.”

Both vampires headed back to where the
tattoo artists had been left waiting; Thomas wearing a smile,
Dorian, a frown.

“Looks like I'll be the only one getting
tattooed this evening. My friend has had a change of heart,” Thomas
informed his audience. He perused countless pictures of past client
tattoos plastered all over the walls. “Hmm. No. Maybe.” Circling
the entire room at least twice, he appeared to be giving much
consideration to his pick. “I know,” he announced, ending his
second trip around the room. “Since I appreciate a good laugh,
mostly at the expense of others, how about an evil jester? What do
you think Dorian? Wouldn't that embody my personality
perfectly?”

Tired of Thomas' games, Dorian only shrugged
his shoulders, not seeing a point to his friend's elaborate
display. Definitely a charmer, Thomas always had the lesser
species, as he lovingly called them, fawning over him within
minutes. These two unfortunate souls would be no different.

“But where should it go? Any thoughts?”
Thomas glanced at Dorian questioningly, only to receive a blank
stare. With his left hand hiding his mouth, he whispered in the
direction of the female, who giggled, but had so far not said a
word. “I guess he is still a little peeved at me over the
homosexual puns earlier. Thomas pulled off his shirt and jumped
into the seat. “Come on, Tiny, let's get started.”

“My name is Leslie,” corrected the oversized
pin cushion.

“Okay,” Thomas smirked.

That explains a
lot.

“How about an extra hundred if I can keep
calling you Tiny?”

“Whatever,” Tiny replied, shrugging his
shoulders.

Relaxing, Thomas leaned his head back. He
knew his was about to begin when he felt the needle pierce his
skin.

Just as Tiny finished the outline of a
jester on Thomas' upper right arm, he watched the ink disappear.
Rubbing his eyes, he inspected his tools to find everything
functioning properly.

Noticing the stall, Thomas spurted, barely
able to contain the pleasure of his performance. Like so many
predators, he loved to play with his food. “Is there a problem?” he
asked innocently.

Tiny stared at him unsure, shaking his head
slightly.

Thomas inspected his forearm where moments
before it felt like he was being attacked by an angry bee. Seeing
nothing but his flawless skin, he shouted, “What the fuck?! I'm not
paying you to poke me with your little prick for nothing.”

“Look man, I don't know what happened. As I
finished the outline of your tat, the damn thing faded before my
eyes. It looked like your skin just absorbed the ink.” Tiny
stammered, not believing the words exiting his mouth.

“Are you high? That's impossible,” Thomas
bellowed.

“Ashley, did you see that?” Tiny turned to
find his coworker in a trance, staring longingly at their
bare-chested customer. “Ashley!”

“What?!” She shouted back, perturbed to be
pulled away from her daydream.

“Never mind,” Tiny huffed, not wanting to
repeat what he hoped was a remnant of some bad acid. “Can I borrow
your tattoo gun? Mine seems to be malfunctioning.”

“Yeah.” Ashley removed herself from the half
wall dividing their work stations to retrieve her tattoo gun. After
handing it off to Tiny, she propped herself back into her prime
daydream position.

“Sorry, dude. Let's try this again, shall
we? Half off, for your trouble.”

“Fine,” Thomas sighed, winking at Ashley,
and leaned back once again.

“Fuck!” Tiny cursed, watching the ink
disappear again.

Unable to hide his smile a second time,
Thomas sneered. “Let me guess, my skin has somehow eaten the ink
again.”

“Look man, I don't know what is going on,
but if this is some kind of joke, it's not funny. This is my
livelihood, and I don't have time for guys like you pulling pranks.
It's best you and your silent friend over there just lea...”