Chapter 31
By the time I get to work, I’m already craving a nap. This morning wore me out, not to mention it’s the first day back to work since we returned from Bozeman, which feels like a week ago instead of a few days.
I slouch in one of the upholstered lobby sofas. “Hey, Frankie, who’s my first client today?” A yawn slips out before I can stop it. That shit needs to quit right now, or I’ll never make it through the day.
“Let me see . . .” With a few mouse clicks, she clears her throat. “Looks like you’ve got a frenum piercing with Kucera.”
Oh, that’s right, he’s coming in for his ladder.
Frankie puffs out her cheeks, then quickly releases them, cocking her head to the side. “Huh. That’s weird,” she mutters.
“What?”
“I dunno, the calendar shows Kucera on here twice . . .” She taps the keyboard a couple times. “Oh, never mind. Different Kucera.”
“Anna?” I ask.
Frankie nods, her tight black curls bobbing.
“Oh, yeah, I remember Casper mentioning something about a session with her this week . . . By the way, I love the curls you’re rocking today,” I add.
“Thanks!” she says with a bright smile. “Oh! I wanted to ask you what you thought about me getting a stud right here?” Her pointy bright-blue fingernail taps on her right nostril, and her eyes narrow. “Something delicate?”
Frankie has beautiful features, so she could pull off any piercing flawlessly. “Absolutely you can. We can do it during your break if you want?”
“Yeah?”
“For sure. Let me get you a tray to look at.” The excitement of giving my coworker and friend a nose piercing gives me a boost of energy.
I pop out of my chair and head to the piercing bay.
While I’m back there, I prep the small room for my first client, making sure my tools are laid out, along with the tray of barbell jewelry.
I also select a couple trays of various stud jewelry for Frankie to consider while she’s at the front desk.
She’s already familiar with the jewelry we offer since we frequently have artisans stop by Black Rabbit to show us new designs.
Frankie is great at selecting unique pieces for us to carry, so I’m sure she already has an idea of what she wants.
When I return, Rhys and Micky Kucera are just entering the shop. I offer them a bright smile. “Today’s the day! How are you feeling?”
“Nervous,” Rhys says with a chuckle. Micky appears much more enthusiastic than her male counterpart.
I set the trays of studs on the front desk next to Frankie for after she finishes getting Rhys checked in, then chat with Micky for a bit while he fills out the consent and release form.
She’s got a cool-as-hell cocktail lounge I’ve been to a handful of times, and it sounds like business is still booming over there.
When Rhys is finished, I bring them both back to the piercing room. Rhys takes a seat in the central chair, and Micky sits in one of the spectator chairs along the wall.
“So, we’re doing a frenum piercing today. It’s been a little bit since our consultation, but as you may remember, we’ll only do three bars today. We can mark and photograph your goals for additional bars so we have that on record for the future.”
“Can’t be the same number as Cam, he’s already giving me shit for riding his coattails.”
Camden is Logan’s stepbrother, and since I’ve attended most of the Teller family gatherings in the last few years, he’s practically my stepbrother as well. I did his frenum piercings too. He’s got a good heart, but being an asshole is part of his charm.
I grin and roll my eyes. “Camden didn’t patent the Jacob’s ladder. I’ve done hundreds of these. You’re not riding his coattails.”
“See?” Micky says to him. “And once this is done, I’ll be riding your front tail!”
I snort. Micky tends to say whatever crosses her mind, often forgetting to filter her words, but she makes it endearing. “After two to four weeks,” I add. “You don’t want to risk infection.”
“Worth the wait!” she says.
“Yeah, I figure the offseason is the best time to get started.”
I scrunch my nose. “My condolences regarding the playoffs. You guys played a hell of a season.” I don’t keep up on hockey too much, but Logan does, especially since Cam is the captain.
I don’t know if it’s the sport he cares about so much as it is his family.
He’s got a soft spot for them, so we see them every couple months.
Come to think of it, it’s been a while since our last trip to his dad and stepmom’s place, so I make a note to schedule something.
“Thanks. So . . .” He gestures to his crotch. “How does this whole thing work again?”
I smile and recite the spiel over what the process is. “So, as you know, this piercing goes through the frenum and along the loose tissue on the shaft of the penis. We’re still doing the underside, correct?”
He nods.
“Awesome. I’m going to use a twelve-gauge needle to create the holes in the tissue. Like I said, I prefer to keep it no more than three bars at a time. Anything more than that can increase your risk of infection. From your consult, it sounds like you want more than three.”
“Camden has seven rungs. I want eight.”
I fight back a grin; that’s a lot. Not sure I can promise that, but if I can . . . way to go, Micky.
“All right. So, generally, I’ll leave the room and give you a few minutes of privacy to achieve an erection.
This is necessary for the marking process so it will give you the best aesthetically pleasing result—that will be the big determining factor for how many piercings we can do based on how much real estate is available.
I want to make sure they aren’t too close together, otherwise it won’t look right and can increase your risks while healing. ”
That’s my nice way of saying, Okay, pal, let’s see how big your dick is before we begin talking numbers.
“If we are unable to do eight bars on the shaft, we can continue down to the lorum and scrotum—”
“Nope.” He cuts me off.
“No problem.” I laugh. “Okay, so once you’re erect, I’ll mark the locations of the piercings.
If you’re comfortable, I’d like to mark all of the rungs today and photograph them for future reference.
It’s a photo that will be taken on your personal phone for you to keep.
I find planning the entire ladder in advance gives the best results.
There’s a much lower chance of running into issues like spacing or how even it is. ”
He asks every man’s most important question, and the one we all hate answering. “Is it going to hurt?”
“You’ll feel a quick pinch, the pain should be brief.
Some clients have said it was painful, others have said they barely felt it.
If I were to make a guess, I would say you’ll be all right.
Hockey players are used to taking some pretty hard hits, so your pain tolerance is probably on the higher end.
I’ll have you do some breathing exercises. ”
He nods. “Cool.”
“I also recommend not starting out by piercing the bars near each other. Once we mark it, we can maybe do one on top, one on bottom, fill in the center as we go. Since we’re doing this in sessions, it tends to look better if you space them out.
No penis is perfectly straight and symmetrical, so the way we align the piercings will not be perfect either.
Instead, we’ll work with your natural shape to give the illusion that everything is equally spaced and lined up. Make sense?”
“So, I’m going to be hard when you pierce it?”
I shake my head. “No, no, no. It would be much more difficult to pierce otherwise, this is just to guide me where to pierce.”
“What if it doesn’t . . .” He nods to his lap.
I grin. “Then we wait. Most clients are flaccid by the time we finish prepping the area.” Especially once they see the needle . . .
“At that point, I will push a hollow needle through the skin where we’ve marked, likely using a forceps to isolate the tissue.
Then I’ll hold the piercing in place while I insert the jewelry.
We’ll do a straight barbell today, and once you’ve healed, we can swap that out for a curved one in the future.
Afterward, we’ll go over maintenance and aftercare during the healing process. ”
They both nod, and Micky places her hand over his. They’re adorable. “Do either of you have any questions I can answer?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Let’s do this!”
“Great!” I clap my hands together. “I’ll give you a few minutes of privacy. Micky, do you want to let me know when he’s ready?”
“Deep breath in,” I say.
Micky starts humming the Oscar Mayer wiener theme song. I glance up, and Rhys is shaking his head and fighting off a smile. Her attempt to relax him works.
“Little pinch,” I say, inserting the needle. “Exhale.”
Rhys blows out a breath.
He barely made a peep. Atta boy.
“That wasn’t so bad,” he says.
Micky squeezes his hand, then exhales with relief. I grin. She showed up ready to rock, but I think watching me shove a needle through her husband’s penis had her a bit worried for him. I was mostly worried we weren’t going to be able to fit eight, but his anatomy is quite . . . accommodating.
“You did awesome!” I screw on the barbell and clean up with saline before moving to the next mark.
“Another deep breath.” I insert the needle.
“Ouch.” I’m not surprised, his pain receptors are more awake after the first bar. The last one will probably be the worst.
“Sorry about that. Try to relax a bit, go to your happy place.”
“I can’t go to my happy place, or I’ll end up hard again,” he mutters, making both Micky and me laugh.
“You’re doing great. You’ve only got one more, this one might be the worst, but then you’re all done for the day.”
He nods, and Micky rubs his back in slow circles, and a small band of sweat beads on his forehead.
“Release the tension from your shoulders. Deep breath in . . .”
“Fucking fuck!” he shouts. I bite my lip to keep from smiling.
I can’t help it, there’s something about grown men experiencing brief, temporary pain—that they opted for—that will always amuse me.
Maybe it’s just because shoving a needle through a man’s penis feels like a fun little consolation prize for putting up with the patriarchy.
Thankfully, he doesn’t squirm much, so I’m able to work quickly, sliding the jewelry through and getting him cleaned up.
“You did it! You’re all done!”
He slumps back in the chair and exhales slowly.
“I’m so proud of you!” Mickey says, cupping his face and kissing him.
“Hellcat, I wouldn’t do this for anybody but you.”
They’re sweet. Once he’s all done, I give him the rundown on all the aftercare, and we exit the room.
Anna and Casper are walking down the aisle between the tattoo bays when she stops in her tracks. A soft smile grows on her face. “What are you doing here?” she asks, glancing behind me.
Micky whisper-shouts from behind me, “Your brother just got his di—” Her voice is suddenly muffled, and I spin around to see that Rhys has clapped his palm over his wife’s mouth.
“Consult,” he answers. “I’m getting a tattoo consult.”
“Yeah, let’s go with that.” Anna wrinkles her nose. “I’d rather part my hair with a chain saw than hear the rest of what Micky had to say.”
Thor and I laugh from behind our tattoo station walls, but everyone else remains professional. Logan is working on a guy’s arm a few feet away, but even with his head down, I can tell he’s smiling.
“Wait, what are you doing here?” Rhys asks Anna, cocking his head to the side.
“Consult,” she blurts, fidgeting with her cotton-candy-pink hair. I know for a fact she’s past the consultation phase, but that’s none of my business.
Rhys narrows his eyes. “Hm.”
I use the opportunity of silence to usher Rhys and Micky toward the front desk so we can settle up payment and hopefully spare her from any big-brother lecture she was about to receive.
I don’t know much about their sibling dynamic, but I’ve heard through the grapevine that Rhys is very protective of his little sister, though she’s clearly in her mid-twenties.
I don’t have any biological big brothers, but growing up in Black Rabbit, it sure felt like I did sometimes.
After they leave and I get the piercing room fully sanitized, I prep my tattoo bay for my next client.
This will be one of my first cover-ups; the tattoo being covered is behind the client’s ear.
It’s tiny, no bigger than a dime—piece of cake.
We’ve decided to cover it up with a nautilus shell.
It will look awesome when it’s complete.
Logan’s wearing his glasses while he works, and I bite my lip as I stare, reminiscing about all the things he said to me this morning while I was spread like an offering. The raw unhinged version of him is so different from the man he is for everyone else, and I love that he is both.
He pauses tattooing to sign to his client. “Doing okay?”
The client nods and I grin. Watching him sign is really . . . hot. The combination of compassion and knowledge will always be sexy . . . The black latex gloves on his skilled fingers and exposed sinewy forearms don’t hurt either.
His eyes find mine and he smiles, signing to me this time. “Having a good day?” He winks.
My lips roll together to keep from breaking into laughter and reply with my hands. “Can Twinkies have good days?”
He chuckles and returns to the tattoo, shaking his head.