36. Serena
“Princess, are you sure?”
“I’m fully healed, and after the day I’ve had, I am not taking no for an answer,” I threaten, dragging Wolf into Ink and Needle. “I need these butterfly penises off of me, now.”
“Hey, guys. Wolf, you’re supposed to be off today. Why are you here?” Aubrey asks as soon as we enter the shop.
“He’s giving me a tattoo,” I respond, weaving Wolf through the design tables and toward his room. I release Wolf’s hand as soon as we walk into his space. “I would close the door if I were you. I’m going to take off my shirt now.”
Wolf stares at me, a raised eyebrow and smirk adorning his features. “You sure you’re ready to sit for an hours-long tattoo?”
I unzip my sweatshirt and throw it on one of the green chairs. “Wolf, I have so much adrenaline right now, I doubt I’ll even feel the prick of the needle.”
He sighs, reaching behind him to close the door. “Fine. But if it gets to be too much, then you need to tell me.”
“Wolf, I can promise you, I need this.” I strip off my shirt and bra, throwing them in the same direction as my sweatshirt. “Pants, too?”
He nods. “I’m going to have the stems and flowers come up from your hip.”
“Fine.” I bend down and strip off my leggings, too. Unlike the last time I was here, I feel no awkwardness at Wolf seeing my body. “Set up the station thing.”
“Okay, Serena, you need to slow down. Don’t rush me, princess. I’m going to prep the table and get all my equipment set up, but I need to make sure everything is good before we start, so sit down, get comfortable, and don’t interrupt my process. Okay?”
I nod, dropping down to the chair without my clothes on it, and lean back.
—
It takes fifteen minutes for Wolf to set up the station; I’d know—I watched the clock the entire time he readied his equipment. When he finally motions for me to come to the bench, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Finally,” I mumble as I climb onto the paper-lined tattoo bench and lie down. My quip earns me a sharp smack on my ass.
“Smartass.”
“Grandpa.”
“Serena,” he warns, spraying cool liquid on my skin before wiping me down with a paper towel.
“Fine, sorry.”
“Good, now stay still. I need to place the stencil on your skin and then see if I need to add any additional elements.”
“Will you have to redraw the stencil?” I ask, curious about the process.
“No, the stencil is fine. But I may add a few things to the piece freehand. Give me a minute to apply this, and then I’ll see what it needs.”
I shut my mouth and stay perfectly still as he lays a large paper over my back, pressing it down with gentle force. He peels the sheet from my back and stays quiet for long minutes, seemingly considering his next move.
Finally, he breaks the silence. “I’m going to add a few things. Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” I don’t hesitate to respond.
“Good, then I’m not going to tell you what I’m doing. You’ll see it when you’re done.” A cool tip presses against my skin, and I fight a shiver at the contact. Minutes bleed into each other as Wolf modifies the tattoo, adding to the drawing at the center of my back and right hip. I don’t know how long I lay there as he draws on me, head down and eyes closed, but I startle at the sound of his voice. “Okay, you ready, princess?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
“Let me know if it gets to be too painful, okay?” he instructs, phrasing it as a question but meaning it as a demand. Tucking my arms under my head, I nod, shutting my eyes and letting the buzz of the tattoo gun mute everything else.
Wolf:
If I couldn’t see the rise and fall of her back from her breathing, I would think that Serena was a corpse or a sex doll. Unlike some of the largest, most tattooed men I’ve worked on, she doesn’t move a goddamn muscle, doesn’t twitch as I work through the design I have. Starting with the outline, I took my time to make sure that every part of the tattoo was flawless. I also ensured that the flying cocks on her back were no longer existent. I asked her a few times if she was okay, and she hummed her response, almost like she was in a trance.
Applying the last of the ink for today’s session to her back. I sit up, set my tattoo machine down on my tray, and admire the design gracing Serena’s back. Just like in the drawing in my bedroom, multiple strelitzias are painted on her back, starting from her right hip and traveling up to the center of her back. The lines are feminine and strong, a testament to the potency of the stem and the unique beauty of the flower. Colored in shades of green, orange, blue, and purple, the design is bold and stunning against the curve of her spine. When I placed the flowers, I realized that after everything she’d gone through with her dad, with so many people in her life, she deserved to have the butterflies she desperately wanted. I added three Blue Morpho butterflies to the piece: one at the bottom to symbolize the past, one resting on the center flower to symbolize the present, and one flying independently toward her left shoulder blade to illustrate the freedom she has in her future.
“You ready to see it, Serena?”
“You’re done?” she asks, sounding surprised.
“It’s been five hours. We’re done for today,” I laugh, spraying her back again and wiping off the excess ink. “We will need a couple more sessions to finish, but before you see it, I have to ask, are you okay?”
“Am I okay that my dad is the biggest asshole on the planet? Not really. But I have a mom who loves me, friends who have become family, and a boyfriend”—she pauses, scoffing at the designation—“who gives me tattoos. So, all things considered, I’ll survive.”
“Serena, I’m serious.”
She sighs, letting out a long breath before answering. “I know you are, Wolf. But really, I’m okay.”
I accept her answer and help guide her up and onto her legs. “We’ll go over the aftercare—and this time, you’ll listen—after you see it. Spinning her around so that her back faces the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I hold up a smaller mirror, allowing her to see her reflection. I watch her face closely, praying that I don’t see any disappointment or sadness when taking in the work. I’m relieved that only awe is present.
“Oh my God, Wolf,” she gasps, bringing a trembling hand to her mouth. “How did you—I can’t—Wolf,” she breaks off, her watery eyes meeting mine. “I love it. I love it so much. I-I can’t believe you designed this for me.”
“Did you see the butterflies?”
She nods, working her throat as she swallows down the emotions I see building in her chest. “Thank you, Wolf. This is everything to me.” She throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around my waist and tucking her head into my chest. I’m careful to grip her by the shoulders.
“I know, princess. I know.”