Twilight fan fiction (T) DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN TWILIGHT. But I do own my OCs
Lorianne P.O.V
The job suited me. Sort of. I could spend time with Karalin in the evenings when I wanted to, though I was wasted for most of them, and the pay supported my smoking habits. It wasn't what I'd call a dream profession, the clients were mainly grouchy and sullen, and the background moans used to drive me crazy, but it was the best I was going to get – having Karalin at sixteen had put pay to my doctoring dreams. I'd been hoping she'd be more careful than me with her life, but walking back from work I knew just how I'd find her; a beached whale sprawled out on our tatty couch five months pregnant with twins. At sixteen. Like mother like daughter. At least she'd chosen an army officer rather than my one night stand dustbin man. Such a shame he had to go and get blown up. I'd approved greatly. If I'd been ten years younger, I wouldn't have minded a bit of him myself. I sighed. The only real problem with my job was that I never met any decent or fit guys. Since Kara's father, my sex life had been practically none existent, and I was only thirty two and a bit. I mean, good guys are hard to come by, and Tattoo & Beauty salons aren't always the best places to look.
That is why I nearly fainted the next day when Demitri walked up to my desk. Call me a liar, but God, was that guy gorgeous, cute and perfect all in one mouthful. He looked like someone had moulded him from granite; all white save a swathe of midnight black hair. He moved like a cat, slowly, like he had all the time in the world, but proudly. There was no transition time between his movements; they lacked the usual human jerkiness; and were more fluid. That's what he was; a solid fluid...solid fluid? I was never good at chemistry; or physics for that matter. Over my initial shock, I cracked into secretary mode.
'Tattoo&BeautySaloncanIhelpyou?' I gabbled. He smiled languidly back.
'I'm Demitri. I was wondering...'I realised how stupid I probably sounded before, and tried again, cutting him off without meaning to. I'd noted his name though. Sexy. Sexy? Since when was a name sexy?
'Tattoo for you sir?' On your navel, I prayed silently. I'll bring the coffee in...His shirt was hot. His body was bound to be hotter. It took me by surprise when he reached over to touch my cheek. His hand was ice cold.
'No babe, tattoos don't...work for me.' He smirked. Why? Why did he smirk at me? What did he want me to do? Melt? I was close. Don't meet his eyes. I warned myself. Or to hell with melting, you'll probably just instantaneously evaporate. Desperate to make conversation, I forgot myself..
'Oh, are you allergic or something? You want a piercing instead? You got any tattoos already? Sorry! I'm being gabbling again. I'm so beaky ' Beaky? What the crap had I just said? He smiled wider, a perfect smile that only just revealed his teeth. He seemed to be inwardly laughing. No surprises. I just made a complete twat of myself. In his shoes, I'd be laughing my head off. that freaks me!
'No worries. I have the wrong skin type...my body doesn't, shall we say, do needles. ' A snigger followed this 'Anyway, even if it did, I'd have to wait until my day off to get one.' He ran a hand across his chest, to rest it on a square badge with 'manager' printed on it in capitals. Once I was able to tear my mind off how it would feel to have those fingers running across my own chest, it went into over drive. My boss was a fat, blotchy fifty something with stubble and a lazy eye. This wasn't my boss. But he was wearing the right style trousers, which was odd, and he had a perfect replica of the manager pin. He saw my confusion and laughed. 'I'm a stand in for the day. I've been watching you for a while, and I feel it is my duty to reward your hard work with a staff drinks night.' So he was joking, or what? He'd been watching...*sigh*...My insides turned gelatinous. He'd noticed me...Pull your-self together.
'Stand in? You've never worked here before...' What did he think I was? Thick? He just smiled again. So distracting...
'This is my way of doing things. Most girls play along.' That told me. Did he just say most girls play along? Why did that bother me? What was wrong with me? I hadn't even staked my bloody claim yet! He could have had as many girls as he wanted. He could have any girl any time with that body.
'When does your shift end?' He prompted.
'In 10 minutes...' What was he getting at? Should I be telling him that?
'Okay then. I'll be waiting, colleague. Go along with me.' So what, he was going all out on the manager-employee relationship build up just to ask me on a date? That was his way? Apparently so...that was freaky, right? He could be a paedophile, right? There was no way I was going to go out with him. I wanted to see my grandkids first. *Note to self – do not mention impending Grandmother Duties to this man.* **Even though you are not going to date him** I prepared myself to turn him down. *And brace and breath*.
'Great. Catch you then.'
Karalin P.O.V
It didn't bother me Mum wasn't back. She was probably down at the pub, drinking herself stupid. I couldn't be bothered to go up the stairs to bed. The twins were kicking the hell out of my insides, and I was tired. Mum could clean up her own puke for once when she came in. I flicked the T.V off and blacked out right there on the sofa.
Lorianne P.O.V
Demitri didn't drink anything, because he was driving, he said. I had a few shots, but I wanted to stay relatively sober too. When the drink had boosted my ego and confidence to a certain level, and I finally trusted my head that this amazing date was real, I forced myself to make eye contact with my date. I almost fell off my stool. They were red black. Fuck me.