Island Ink

Tom, the post-master for the island, was also usually the post office’s only employee. He had a part-time assistant, but most natives dealt solely with Tom.

And it was Tom who was holding a special package and smiling when its addressee came racing into the post office after his notification call.

“It’s here?”

Tom laughed. “Yep. Right here, safe and sound.”

“Sweet!”

Cale was one of Tom’s regulars as well as one of his favorites. Cale was a native of the island and a devout patron of a certain mail-order catalog. It also didn’t hurt that he was cute and androgynous. Tom had always liked the small ones the best. And Cale was small. Topping out at five foot five and not a pound over one twenty-five, Cale was a diminutive bundle of energy. His brown hair was highlighted with blond and red tips and he had six piercings in each ear. Cale loved jewelry and typically wore two or more necklaces and five or six bracelets at a time. Tom loved watching him and knew it was Cale that kept his sixty-year-old libido greased. Even if it did make Tom feel like a dirty old man.

Tom pulled the box out of the bin and set it on the counter. Cale’s eyes were wide as he bit his lip. “It’s big, isn’t it? I’ve never gotten one so big before,” he whispered reverently.

Tom grinned, glad he was standing behind a counter.

“Well, are ya going to open it?” he asked, nudging the box closer.

Cale looked up and smiled brilliantly.

“Hell, yeah!”

Tom handed him a box cutter and watched the young man dive in. Packing popcorn flew everywhere and then Cale gasped.

“Oh, man! It’s perfect! Just perfect!”

Tom took a peek in and nodded. “Best one yet.”

Cale nodded his head and quickly began closing the box. “It so is!” With a hop, he leaned over the counter and gave Tom a peck on the cheek. “Thank you!”

“No problem.”

Cale scooped up the box, the bell over the door jingled, and Cale was gone. Sighing, Tom went back to sorting mail.

“Sunlight and sex in a bottle. If I were only forty years younger….”

“You’d have him over a mail cart?” His assistant, Tony, asked with a laugh.

“I’m a gentleman,” Tom answered. “I’d at least spring for a hotel room.”



Cale ran to the closest Tropical Trams stop and virtually leapt onto it when it appeared.

“It came, eh?” the driver asked with a smile as Cale dumped his change into the meter.

“Yep!” Cale threw himself into the nearest seat and bounced the box on his knees. When the tram stopped again, he rushed off with a wave and ran down the street toward a dark building at the end. The chains hanging from his baggy jeans jangled loudly.

Island Ink was not one of the posh and glimmering shops that inhabited the newer side of town. It was definitely different, which was exactly what its owner had wanted. The quintessential tattoo artist, Brodie Callow sneered at the resort theme, the antiseptic feel of the island in the touristy areas, and had cultivated a darker and edgier feel for his shop. He had a skull and cross bones flag flying from the roof and that was the only pirate theming he allowed. The exterior walls were painted navy blue and artwork of cleavage-showing women and ass-crack showing men decorated the windows. The door was an old steel gate from a prison, which was standing open as Cale approached.

The scent of rubbing alcohol, ink, and cleaner enveloped him as he ran inside. It was a specific scent that always made him smile, that made him feel comfortable. But at that moment, he was more interested in his prize.

“Brodie! Brodie, it’s here!” he called out loudly. He got strange looks from the young man and woman who were looking at the flash art on the wall, but he ignored them. “Brodie!”

“Jesus fuck!” An angry voice came from down the hall. Cale headed toward one of the small rooms that was used for piercings and for overflow when the front of the shop was full. It looked like a dentist’s office, with a reclining chair and sterile equipment spread over every flat surface. A young man was lying on the fully reclined chair. Meanwhile, a man with spiked blue-black hair, a tight black shirt, and tattoos visible on his exposed arms and neck was hunched over the man’s exposed penis.

“Brodie,” Cale said. “It’s here!”

“Great. I nearly ruin this guy’s dick because of your yelling and now we’re gonna dance over a box?” Brodie asked harshly as he moved some stainless steel items around on the table next to him.

The guy in the chair paled after the mention of his dick and began sweating.

“It’s not a box! It’s her!” Cale stepped inside the small room and placed his package on the counter next to a case of different-sized barbells and hoops still in their packages.

“Her?” Brodie looked up with suspicion in his eyes. “Shit! Don’t open that here!”

The bright box was lifted out of the packing popcorn and held aloft for all to see. A plastic smile and painted eyes stared out from beneath a plastic window.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Cale whispered.

“Is that… a Barbie?” the guy on the chair asked, staring upside down at Cale’s treasure.

“It’s the Holiday Barbie! It’s a Mackie, too! He designed the dress and everything! The crown has real cubic zirconia chips!”

“God damn it!” Brodie glared at the blonde doll. “Get that out of here!”

“But she just came today! I’ve been waiting for weeks! The Barbie forum was all freaked out about it and now I know why!” Cale was staring down with wide eyes at the white and gold box. “Brodie, if we sold these, I could get mine earlier than everybody else. With a merchant account, I could have gotten her last week! Blover79 was bragging on the forum about how she has a merchant account!”

“You collect Barbies?” the guy in the chair asked.

“Hey! You want your dick pierced or what?” Brodie growled and angrily grabbed the needle.

“Um….”

“Brodie, you think Tiny will build me another shelf today?”

“Damn it! No, Tiny has a job. And we don’t need another fucking shelf!”

“Oh, you guys are together?” the guy asked.

“But where am I going to put her?” Cale asked with a frown.

“In the trash! And don’t call it a her!”

“But she is a her!” Cale smiled down at the doll. “We could put her right over the bed.”

“Fuck! Cale, get the fuck out!”

Glaring at Brodie, Cale carefully repackaged the box and walked out of the room. The young couple who had been looking at the flash art was now sitting in chairs looking through a magazine.

“Hey man, heard you finally got her,” Tiny said.

Cale looked towards the ink area where most of the tattooing was done. It was open and had three different areas set up for work. Two of the tables were occupied. Tiny and Gayle had customers.

Tiny was not tiny. He was actually a quite large man with dark black skin who was originally from Philadelphia. His head was clean-shaven and had a stabbed heart with wings tattooed on the back of it.

“Even better than the picture in the catalog!” Cale answered, his enthusiasm picking back up. “Can you build me another shelf upstairs?”

“I think so. I don’t have anymore appointments today.” Tiny repositioned the stencil on the back of the young woman lying across the padded table.

“Ship’s due in tonight,” Gayle said over the hum of her tattoo gun. “Brodie won’t let you leave.” Gayle had bleached blonde hair with dark roots that she carefully cultivated. There were tattoos up and down her arms and down her back, which was exposed in the string tank she was wearing. Her lip and both eyebrows were pierced.

“Ah, yeah.” Tiny looked back at Cale. “Sorry, man. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Damn. All right.” Cale leaned over the iron fence that kept observers back and away from the sterile area. “Hey, that’s nice,” he said as he looked at the stencil Tiny was transferring onto skin. “You doing that in color?”

“Yeah. It should look real good.”

“Cool.” Cale looked at the young woman. “Tiny’s the best in portraits. He makes them look like they’ll walk right off your skin.”

“Awesome! It’s a picture of my mom when she was younger,” the woman answered.

“And I always wanted my mom off my back,” Gayle muttered.

Cale and the woman laughed.

The man from the piercing room suddenly walked down the hallway and out the door. Brodie was right behind him.

“Cale, get your ass over here now!”

“Uh oh. The man’s pissed,” Tiny murmured. He bent his head back down to his art.

Cale followed Brodie down the hall and into the back office. It was actually more of a storage room with a desk in it, but they all called it the office. Brodie shut the door behind them. Hard.

“You just cost me an eighty-dollar job,” Brodie growled.

“What did I do?” Cale asked indignantly.

“I’ve told you to keep that shit out of my shop! You pissed me off so much the guy was scared shitless to let me near him!”

“How is you getting angry my fault?”

“Because you were showing off that shit like it was gold or something. I don’t want it in my shop, damn it!”

Cale set the box down and glared. “You know, I don’t get all pissed when you bring in your bike parts or your airplane parts.”

“This is not the same thing and you know it! It’s a fucking doll! Who the fuck collects dolls? Next you’ll be wearing a muumuu and wanting a minivan!”

“Why is it okay that you work on your bike and play with your planes and I can’t collect what I like?” Cale asked accusingly.

“Because it’s a fucking doll! How many other ways can I say it? Shit! The whole town already knows about them! I don’t want it in here, you got that? I see them again and I’m spraying them with lighter fluid and turning them into gooey plastic!”

“So if I built model cars, you’d be okay with it?”

“Jesus, if you did, I’d dance for fucking joy!” Brodie flung his hands up in the air before falling into the old and creaky office chair behind the desk. “I’d buy you whatever you wanted. Shit, I’d build you a shed to work in!”

“But because it’s dolls you won’t do that? What the hell is the difference?” Cale shouted.

“Fuck, you’re not that gay! You have to know that there is a difference!”

“Fuck you!” Cale kicked the metal desk and grabbed his box. “You’re a dick!”

The chair squeaked as Brodie sprung out of it and reached the door just as Cale did. He held it closed with one hand and faced Cale.

“Don’t you walk away from me!” he said in a low voice.

“You know, if I wanted to live with my father, I’d have stayed home!” Cale shifted the box in his arms and glared hard up at Brodie. There was a six-inch difference in their heights and it was times like this that made Cale hate that.

“Don’t you compare me to that asshole!” Brodie suddenly sighed and punched the door before leaning his back against it. “Look, I don’t care if you want to collect that stuff. Just don’t bring it in here.”

“Why? Nobody cares but you!”

“Yeah, no one cares because they think it’s a fuckin’ joke! I’m the one that has to know that everyone else knows I’ve got pink fuckin’ nightmares all over my house.”

“So you’re embarrassed?”

“Hell yes, I’m embarrassed!”

Cale stared up into Brodie’s blue eyes and said quietly, “Yeah, that’s what my parents always said. They didn’t care if I was gay; I just wasn’t allowed to act gay where they or anyone else could see it.”

“Shit!” Brodie stood up. “Don’t do this, damn it! It’s a simple fuckin’ request! Why the hell do you need to make it into drama?”

Cale stared at Brodie’s chest and clutched the box closer.

“I’m not making it into drama. I just… like them.”

“Yeah, I know you do. Just keep them out of the shop, all right?”

A few moments of silence and Cale looked up at Brodie again. “I don’t care if everyone else thinks it’s a joke. They can kiss my ass if they’re laughing behind my back. But why do you care? I thought you didn’t care about what people thought?”

“I care when it could hurt my street cred. Having my bitch collecting Barbies is really uncool.”

“Fine. But I’m still collecting them. Tom likes them, anyway.”

“Yeah, that old goat wants you to suck his cock, too.” Brodie grimaced at the mental image.

“I know. It’s why I get special service,” Cale answered with a smirk.

“Shit, you haven’t sucked his cock, have you?” Brodie asked, anger darkening his face.

Cale laughed and shook his head as he leaned against the door.

“I like yours way too much. The only wrinkles I do are the ones on your balls.”

“They better be.” Brodie moved until he was pressing Cale into the door. “I’ll kill you if you fuck around on me.”

“I know.”

And Cale did know. Brodie became a tattoo artist while doing time. He had been convicted of theft and drug dealing. While in prison, Brodie had risen to the top of his gang. But he had killed to do it and had narrowly escaped being sent up for life. It was only because there was no evidence against his claim of self-defense that they had let him out when his term was done. But Cale knew that Brodie had hunted down and killed the other inmate to get revenge.

Brodie’s hand on his groin distracted Cale from his thoughts. The box was knocked out of his hand and he barely had a chance to gasp in protest before Brodie had slammed his chest into his and begun kissing him hard.

“Suck me off,” Brodie whispered into his mouth. “You owe me for the pierce job I lost.”

Sliding down the door, Cale went to his knees and began undoing Brodie’s large silver belt buckle and unzipped Brodie’s dark blue jeans. Brodie was half-hard already when Cale pulled him through the opening of his boxers. Licking his lips, Cale lifted Brodie’s balls through the opening too and began massaging them. He leaned in and inhaled Brodie’s musky scent before running his tongue under and around the sac and pulling one ball into his mouth, sucking on it. Brodie braced his hands against the door above Cale.

Cale sucked the other ball and then mouthed the entire sac. He licked and nibbled and was rewarded with a grunt from above. He moved up, licking at the now thick and heavy shaft. Running his tongue around its base and then up its length, Cale set to work at making Brodie weak in the knees. He wanted the tough guy to fall hard. It hadn’t happened yet, but Cale was determined. He moved to the tip of Brodie’s dick and ran his tongue under the head and across the slit. He heard a hiss above him and Brodie’s hips jerked forward. Cale opened his mouth and throat and allowed himself to be fucked. The back of his head knocked against the door with the force of the thrusts. Brodie kept his hands braced as he began to push harder. Cale had been taught how to take Brodie’s entire length down his throat, which freed up his hands to squeezed Brodie’s ass and thighs.

“Good boy,” Brodie said in a husky voice. “Take it all.”

Cale made a guttural sound, a cross between a whimper and a moan. He dropped his hands from Brodie and quickly shoved them inside his own pants. He was so hard already. He jerked himself off just as Brodie slammed his fist into the door and poured himself down Cale’s throat.

“Unh!” Cale’s lips made a popping noise as Brodie pulled out of him. Cale came all over his own hands while swallowing down the load in his mouth.

The clanking of Brodie’s belt buckle made Cale look up. Brodie’s blue eyes were looking down at him.

“You’re supposed to have your ass out there being our receptionist. Not running to the post office for personal items.”

“Yes, sir.” Cale slid to his feet between Brodie and the door. He smiled and leaned up, kissing the stubbled chin in front of him.

“You know, I think you pick these fights just so we can fuck like this.”

Cale laughed as he grabbed a towel from one of the boxes and began wiping himself off.

“I think you pick fights so you can get me on my knees.”

“I don’t need to pick a fight to do that,” Brodie answered with a low voice.

Cale looked up through his bangs. “True.”

“Now get out there and make me some money.”

“Can I have forty bucks?”

“What the fuck for?”

Cale tossed the towel at the laundry pick up bag and opened the door.

“They just released the Pin-Up Girl collection and there is this one in a vintage bathing suit and—”

“Get your ass out of here!”

Cale ran down the hall with a grin and greeted a guy who was just walking in.

“Hey, welcome to Island Ink. What can we do for you?”