Chapter 3 #2
I turn back to Liaden. Her hair is piled up in a full top knot with a couple of strands escaping, keeping the mass of pink out of the way.
She’s in yoga pants and a loose fitting, cropped white t-shirt.
Wayward desire careens through me once again when I notice, from the way her nipples are pointing at me, that she’s almost certainly not wearing a bra, or if she is, it’s thin as heck.
And here come the mental images of her pulling her t-shirt off and letting me see…
Fuuuuuuuuck. So much for my frail hope that my attraction to her was just a fluke. This is gonna be a long night.
I steel myself to be cool and offer her a thumbs up with a questioning look.
“Yes, all good thanks, and you?” I nod.
“Super. I did everything you told me to. I made sure I had an early night last night. I didn’t actually go to sleep until the usual time, but hopefully the extra rest counts for something.
Had the craziest dreams about my family morphing into a pack of deer.
Wait, is it a pack? No, it’s a herd. A herd of deer.
Not sure what that dream was supposed to signify.
I’ll have to look up the symbology of deer.
Oh, and before I forget…” She rummages in her handbag, a larger one than last time.
“I bought a couple of sports drinks on the way here, one for me and one for you, because I imagine you must get thirsty when you work, too. I got, let’s see…
orange or raspberry, which one would you like? ”
So on top of being cool and pretty and smart, she’s also a really nice person? Right. So I’m really not being given any shred of a chance, then. I reach tentatively for the orange one, ready to switch if that’s the flavor she wanted.
She grins. “Excellent. I was hoping I’d get the raspberry one.
Raspberry is always my go-to flavor option anyway, and this one tastes just like this amazing raspberry sorbet I had on holiday in Devon when I was a child.
Have you ever been to Devon?” I shake my head.
“It’s definitely worth a visit, just for that ice cream parlor if nothing else.
Oh, and the clotted cream…” She shivers happily.
“If you ever do go, cut a jam doughnut in half, dollop on a generous amount of genuine Devonshire clotted cream, eat it like a sandwich, and think of me.”
I grin back at her, loving how her rapid, almost dizzying chatter breaks up the silence of my day. I’m really enjoying how mile-a- minute she is. It’s energizing. She’s a whirlwind, and it’s fun to get swept up in her.
“Anyway, I thought it would be smart to wear loose-fitting clothing, because I imagine I’ll be a little sore afterwards.
I brought a towel along as well, just to cover up my front.
I’m sure you probably have them, but I always like to be prepared.
Didn’t they say a towel was an essential emergency pack item in some science fiction novel or other?
What was it, what was it…” She snaps her fingers.
“ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy . That was it.
So, where do you want me, and is my design ready? Did you enjoy creating it?”
I nod sincerely, because I did. It was a great creative stretch. Reaching over for the sheet I showed Leo, I hand it to her with nervous anticipation. I open up some pre-typed text for her appointment on my tablet and hand that to her as well.
I’ve tried to incorporate some of every symbol on there, and I’ve made it as accurate and lifelike as I am able to get it. Let me know what you think - if you don’t like it, I won’t be offended, and we can discuss how to make it fit your vision better.
She reads the tablet first, and then I watch as she takes in my drawing, her eyes flickering over it like dancing fireflies.
Her smiling mouth drops open, and I’m ready to punch the air because it’s clear that she likes what I did.
“Wow,” she breathes, “this is even better than I imagined it. How do you do that? Make it look so realistic? It’s like a photograph! ”
I bow slightly, preening inside and feeling like a frickin’ king. I get a lot of happy clients, but this…this feels better, heaps better than any other time.
She hands them both back. “OK,” she says with a cute little jump, “how shall we start?”
I hold up one finger so she’ll wait, and then pull a lever on the side of my chair which flattens it a little more.
“That works for me,” she agrees, and loops her bag over the headrest for easy access.
She tips her head to one side. “I’m nervous.
Why am I so nervous?” Her eyes meet mine, and the smile she gives me is not one of her usual polished, confident grins.
This is the smile of a nervous human looking for a little comfort, and I am more than happy to offer her a sympathetic look in return.
It seems to reassure her well enough. She takes a deep breath and looks more like her usual self.
“Well, it’s obvious, really. People are innately afraid of the unknown, and this is a new and unfamiliar experience that will inevitably involve a degree of pain.
Logic dictates that of course I’d be apprehensive, right?
Even I can’t defy human nature. But what I can do is place my trust in you, and the fact that you are a well respected tattooist with some very impressive photos in your portfolio, and a lot of five star reviews - kudos, by the way, some of them make for fascinating reading - and I really ought to stop blathering at you and let you do your job. ”
She has dimples.
I want to kiss them both.
I point towards the chair to indicate that she should lie down when she’s ready, and she grabs the towel out of her bag.
Before I can turn and offer her some privacy, she starts to take her t-shirt off, completely unabashed and unashamed, making little to no effort to cover up or turn away herself.
I whirl around before I see too much. Just the slight under-curve of her breast…
Focusing determinedly on putting my rubber gloves on, pretending I’m not in the least affected even as my mouth goes dry and my dick throbs against the double layer of briefs, I wait to turn back again until she says, “OK, I’m ready.”
I’m equally disappointed and relieved to find her lying on her front, smiling at me over her shoulder. She’s in the perfect position for me to work.
She’s also in the perfect position for me to fuck her.
Focus. It’s not OK to drool on your clients.
Her back is pale and completely bare. I’m about to put my mark on her.
My lips twitch slightly as I recall Eli telling me how amazing it felt to tattoo Em, like it was the best feeling in the world.
He’s not the type to gush like that, so I knew that even passing comment on it was a strong indication that it was a real, no-foolin’ thing for him, that placing his ink on Em got to him in a big way, but I didn’t get it then.
Tattooing people is what we do, and every tattoo is great in its own way.
I was wrong. It is more special when you like the woman you’re marking.
There’s an added something, a layer to it reserved just for her that no other client can have, a piece of you that you’re giving to her.
And for a moment I wonder if I should pass her over to Eli or Sadie or Leo for ethical reasons, but my mind rebels against that, hard. Mine .
But not mine.
Oh, boy.
I grab my tablet and swipe to some other pre-typed text, handing it to her to read while I ready the alcohol swab.
First of all, it’ll all be OK. This is what I do, and you can trust me to do it right. I won’t let you down.
I’ll take it steady, and let me know if you need me to stop. Take all the time you need, and I don’t care if you want to take a break every five minutes - we’ll go at your pace.
Now, while I get things started, why don’t you tell me why you picked the Rosetta Stone as your first tattoo?
“Thanks,” she says quietly, looking relieved.
“And that’s easy. I’m not religious - sorry if you are, no offence intended - but I saw someone with a huge crucifix tattoo on their back, and it was really well done - you could see the tears on Jesus’ face, and how the thorns from the crown pierced his skin - and it played on my mind and made me think, what would my equivalent be, since I’m not a woman of faith?
And I considered it from all sorts of angles, and figured out that the most meaningful thing for me personally would be something to represent my love of languages.
When I was a child, I would spend hours cracking codes and cyphers, and I still do, because they help me unwind.
And I always had an ear for spoken languages, picked them up pretty easily.
And the Rosetta Stone, I mean… wow. I still maintain it was one of the most important discoveries of all time.
It unlocked so much for humanity. The Egyptian scripts, they all opened up to us.
It’s the ultimate code key, inexpressibly important to our understanding of the past, and this…
magnificent civilization, and all their many influences on the modern world, all those stories, all that culture.
I mean, they invented ink , so they could write down and keep some of the first records…
and, I suppose, eventually tattoo them on ourselves.
” She pauses very briefly, possibly to take in some air.
“Anyway, the translations - oh… That alcohol swab means it’s go time, doesn’t it? ”
I point to the tablet she’s still holding, swiping down a little, and return to running the cotton pad along her skin.
I don’t allow anything but the cotton to touch her, no matter how tempting it is to allow my fingers to trail her skin along with it, but not doing it doesn’t make me any less horny.
Or stop me wondering from how she’d respond…