"Well ladies, I'd take may hat off, but I ain't exactly wearin' one. But pleased ta make yer acquaintance nonetheless." He crossed around the pool to where there was a bench, lit up a cigarette and laid the smokes and lighter down on it. "Alouicious Harlan Guthrie, esquire, at yer service."
Unwilling to take his eyes off the kimono-clad lovelies, he removed his towel, reached back behind him to hang it on a hook, and stepped down onto the tub's first step. He was a very short man, five-three in his boots, and gaunt. Not quite emaciated, but certainly wiry. His chest was covered with hair, so it was the only part of his body not littered with tattoos. No sleeves, just various individual pieces. The most prominent, as he faced them, was a huge African elephant's head that stretched across his pelvis. Intricately inked using only black, it's expressive eyes gazed out from just below his beltline, its ears flared out around his hips, majestic horns traced down his thighs, and of course, hanging in the center, was its trunk. Rather shorter than it really should have been. A jagged, poorly healed scar marred the work across the animal's forehead, just below Al's navel.
Al was certainly not above securing the services of ladies such as Molly and Katja, though he had never needed to make a habit of it. In any case, they'd certainly make pleasant company, not to mention something to keep his eyes busy. And after walking all night, a massage would be just what the doctor ordered. He sat down on the pool's edge, looked at the blond and patted the cedar deck behind him. The girl smiled as if there was nothing she'd like more - she knew her job - and moved around behind him, reaching for the tie on her robe. But once she was behind him, he heard her take a sharp breath.
On his back was the most spellbinding piece of body art she had ever seen. Though rendered in vivid color, it was more a masterpiece of scarification than tattoo. At first glance it was the Holy Trinity, three haloed individuals, one large and prominent in the center, flanked below by two smaller figures around where Al's kidneys would be. But the three halos hovered above portraits of dogs - big, large-headed hounds of indeterminate breed, each with a distinct visage and expression: regal; bellicose; jocular. They were as much carved into his back as inked, and the brilliant texturing made them leap off the surface in three dimensions.
Al scooted off the edge of the pool and lowered his ass down to the ledge below the waterline. took a pull of his beer without taking the cigarette from the corner of his mouth, and waited for the girl to get started, his eyes never leaving Molly on the other side of the room.
