by Leah Holt
Holding my hand up, I said, “Look, tattoos are permanent. If you're going to get one, I really think you should know what you want. The last thing I need is to cement your skin in ink that can't be erased if you don't like it tomorrow when you wake up.”
Slamming a finger onto my portfolio, she pushed her nail in hard, denting the picture. “I want this.”
Cringing to the sight of my damaged photo, I shook my head. “That's not how I do things around here,” I said, stepping to the album and closing it. “These are pictures of other people's tattoos. I can draw you up something similar, but I won't draw the same exact image for you. Each one I do is unique to the person.” Brushing past the fire faced girl, I stepped to her friend. “How about you, do you have any idea about what you want?”
“Not really, I never thought about getting one before.” Her fingertips circled her mouth, plucking at the lower lip.
I couldn't stop staring at her. The way her lips plumped up and curved as she spoke, a soft shimmer glistened across the surface. The remnants of lip gloss was enhanced by the lighting above, turning them to dewy petals.
Petals I wanted to run my thumb over, delicate skin I wanted to nibble till she couldn't resist my tongue.
Those lips can wrap my cock anytime.
She was fucking beautiful. Her eyes were bright blue with green and gold sparkles as they caught the glow of florescent lighting. Her hair was frizzled, ponytail bouncing in soft movement as it swayed against her shoulders.
The girl had an air of innocence that radiated off her body. Innocence I wanted to crush between my hands, purity I wanted to destroy with deep hard thrusts.
And it was fucking turning me on.
My cock was pulsing to life, thickening with the silence and softness of her voice.
“I'm guessing you don't have any other tattoos, huh?”
“Nope, you guessed right.” Her lips pulled tight, an awkward smile lifted to her ear.
“Well, let me just say, I'd love to pop your tattoo cherry.” Drawing my thumb across my lip, I pressed in closer to her.
“Excuse me?” Tilting her head to the side, her hands folded up under her arms, one shoe tucked snugly under each side. “No one said anything about popping any cherries tonight.” Flipping her head towards her friend, her jaw went taut. “Beth, let's go, I'm not letting this ass near my skin.”
A no bullshit kind of girl, even better. Her friend might have led her here, but at least she's not a complete pushover.
“You'd be doing yourself a favor if you let me near your skin. I promise I'll be gentle since it's your first time.” Chuckling, I drew my hand over my head. “Everyone remembers their first time, and you'd be lucky to say it was me.”
“Are you a pervert or just a walking dick? Because personally... I'd say you're both.” Her lip arched, eyes veering down the bridge of her nose.
Her friend cut in before I could answer. “Lo, I know he doesn't have the greatest manners, but he's supposed to be the best around. We need to do this, I didn't walk in here, only to walk out still bare.” Leaning against the desk, red cupped the trim with her palms. “I love Lillies, can you do a Lily on my lower back?”
I didn't want to see the sexy blonde turn and walk out my door. Blood had surged my cock, prickles had encased my entire body. She did something to me I couldn't explain.
A raw tension fed the air around us, the room thickening with attraction and desire.
So I did the one the thing I knew would keep her here, I agreed. “A tramp stamp... Classic. For you, absolutely.”
Red's lip curled, eyes slit tight. “Tramp stamp?”
“Exactly, it seems it would fit you perfectly.” Running a hand over my jaw, I dragged my fingers down through my beard. “Let me draw something up quick.” Turning to the blonde, I held a slight smile. “And for you, I'll draw you something special. Give me thirty minutes.”
Rolling her eyes, Red crossed her thighs, face softening back into its original color. “What should we do while you draw?”
Grabbing two clipboards off the desk, I handed them to the girls. “Fill these out, and I'll be with you in a bit.”
Taking one last glance at the gorgeous girl with curves, I let my eyes ride over her body before disappearing into the back.
A flash of her bare skin, untainted and pure, rode my spine. She was unspoiled, a blank canvas. There was no one else that had touched her the way I was going to.
This night definitely just got a little better.
While the idea of tattooing the obnoxious girl, with the body of a starved island survivor, was less than ideal; the thought of letting my fingers run over the nervous girl's skin sent a shockwave right to my cock.
I was going to do hers last, savor the feel of her flesh, enjoy the sight of her vulnerable nervousness.
I wanted to feel her squirm, shiver, tremble beneath my hands.
And I was going to put my mark on her.
The image would never disappear, it would never fade.
An inked reminder of my existence.
A permanent display of the man she would never forget.
Chapter Three
Willow
I can't believe I'm doing this.
Never in my life had I ever imagined I would be here, about to stain my skin with an unerasable image.
What's he going to draw? God I hope it's not some sort of fire breathing dragon.
The time seemed to slowly tick by, my palms getting sweatier and sweatier with each second. Beth didn't seem nervous at all, she was giddy. Laughing at nothing, and prancing around the room looking at all the pictures on the walls.
I had to admit, I was impressed by some of the depictions hanging. The pictures ranged from evil flaming skulls, to beautiful landscapes of oceans and trees. From an artist's perception, there was talent here.
Whether it was the artist behind the curtain or someone else, I didn't know. All the images had a small design in the bottom left corner. It wasn't a name, or initials; it was a tight loop, swirling off the side with two dots directly underneath.
A mark, all the paintings were marked with a signature in shape.
It wasn't an artist I was familiar with. Then again, I'm not an art dealer. I had some knowledge on famous and well known artists, but I didn't know them all.
Show me a van Gogh, or a famous shoe painted by Warhol, and I'll give you some history. But toss a new age artist in my face, and I'm empty.
The loud screech of heavy metal played around us, bright lights shined down onto our heads. There were seats resting against the front wall, but I couldn't sit.
My nerves were on edge, the frightened feeling scaled my back, wrapping my shoulders in a warm blanket.
I can't believe I'm doing this. Dammit Beth!
And the fucking guy about to stick my skin, he made my frame flush with goosebumps. I was trying to push that feeling out, force the bubbling adrenaline down and away.
My body was roaring to life, thighs pressing together with a wanton need I didn't understand and didn't want to accept.
He was fucking hot, a taste of raw, and real. A lot of people around here wore fake expressions and false personalities. Everyone in this town was looking for their big break, and I was no different.
But I was still me, I hadn't turned into someone else. And this guy seemed the same.
A thick beard coated his hard jaw, encasing his perfect lips in a natural frame. His arms were covered from wrist to shoulder in art; colorful, dancing art, that moved across his muscles as he spoke.
I had never been attracted to a guy like him before. He looked hard, and dangerous, the complete opposite of what I thought I found attractive.
But he spoke with confidence, and a certainty that glossed my brain. He knew what he was doing, and I couldn't deny that.
It was his eyes that drew me in and kept me locked in place. Their bright green hue hooked my stare, the deep emerald color popped against his dark olive skin tone. His beard was a
dark brown, speckled with reds, and yellows.
And when he zeroed in on me, my heart jumped. My stomach whirled with flutters, blood turning icy and heating to a boil as he closed the gap between us.
The feet separating us warped into inches, the warm gust of air his lips expelled, circled my face and rolled down my neck. My whole body was tingling, wanting him to touch me, and wanting to bolt out the door at the same time.
But my feet were motionless. It was as if he had glued me to his floor by just the idea of his hands on me. An imaginary chain clamped around my ankle, keeping me in place, a statue to his shop.
I didn't want to be here, but I couldn't leave.
The man who disappeared behind the curtain reminded me of the great Oz, withdrawing himself to a room shrouded in mystery. His room to make his creations, to draw.
Maybe that was the attraction I couldn't deny, the love of drawing. I knew what it felt like to let your fingers carve out an idea, to let them paint the vision in your mind.
So what was his vision for me?
“Are you excited, Lo?” Beth plopped herself into the plastic blue chair behind me. Her long leg swung over her thigh, fingers tapping eagerly against the synthetic material.
“No,” I said, trying not to look her in the eyes. I was afraid she'd be able to read me.
Beth knew me better than I think I knew myself. If she even so much as caught a whiff of my attraction to the tattoo artist...
I'd never hear the end of it. And she'd make sure to drop her not so subtle hints of my feelings.
Beth would make childish remarks about us being soulmates, and how cute it'd be if we kissed.
No thank you.
I had to keep my head clear. There was no way I was really attracted to this guy. I couldn't be.
It had to be just the fact he seemed to give me an ounce more of attention than he gave her, an extra flick of the eyes no one else had ever divulged for me.
I was always the shadow in the corner, the third wheel.
Beth was always the one to leave with the guy on her arm. Not me, that didn't happen in my world.
At least it never did with her around. She was a model, I couldn't blame the surrounding wolves for wanting fillet instead of a fatty piece of strip steak.
So why did he seem to be drawn to me?
Why did he swoop to my side and stare at me the way he did?
Stop it Willow! You're being ridiculous!
Shaking my head, I forced the girlish crush from my thoughts, and brought myself back to earth.
“Oh, come on. This is going to be fun.” Yanking a file from her purse, Beth brushed the emery board across her nails. “Just think, when I leave, you get to stare at your new ink and remember this night. How awesome will that be?”
A smile dangled on the corner of my lips. “It'll be pretty cool.” My brows crinkled, dipping into my nose. “Another memorable night, one that will last forever.”
“Stop being so grumpy and just enjoy yourself for once. That's why we're doing this you know. If you can let loose tonight, then maybe while I'm gone you'll learn to live a little.”
A deep cough echoed through the room. My neck snapped up, eyes steady and wide. “Alright, Red, you're first.”
“My name's Beth.” Popping up from the chair, she walked towards the back. “Lo, you coming?”
“I don't know, can I?”
The bearded man nodded. “Absolutely.”
Following him down a narrow corridor, he turned into a small room. One wall was filled with tiny bottles of different colored ink, more paintings crowded the remaining blank space.
“Have a seat,” he said, arm fanning out towards the black leather chair in the center of the room.
“How should I sit?” Beth asked, eyeing the seat.
“Well, you want the tattoo on your lower back right?” Beth nodded yes, flashing an excited grin. “So straddle the chair. I'm sure you know how to do that.” Chuckling to himself, he squirted an array of colors into tiny cap-sized cups.
“I'd call you an asshole, but I don't want you to fuck up my tattoo on purpose.” Throwing a leg over the cushion, Beth shot him a nasty glare.
“I'm sorry, Beth, but no matter how much you might get on my nerves, I would never deliberately fuck up your picture. That's just wrong.”
“Good, I'm glad we don't need to pretend to be friends, and you still respect your job enough to try.”
“You don't have to like me, but you'll love your tattoo when I'm done, I promise.” Holding a hand to his heart, he bowed his head.
“So what's your name?” Beth asked, turning to roll her eyes at me. She was just as annoyed with him as he seemed to be with her.
So why are we here again? Why get stamped by a guy you don't like?
This was a first for me. Most guys loved Beth, and all of them tried to get in her pants at some point. For me to watch this guy blatantly shooting her down from the start, it sent shivers down my spine.
“The name's Kash, how about you? What's your name, Princess?” His gunmetal stare froze me in place.
“That's Lo, she's really shy, so don't be surprised if she doesn't say more than two words the whole time we're here.” Beth smiled at me, winking as she adjusted her dress to wrap her legs around the chair.
I expected his eyes to fall to her waist, follow the thin line of her thong over her ass cheeks. But he didn't, he just examined the placement of the picture.
His eyes fluttered over the dip in her spine, thumbs resting on either side as if measuring to make sure he knew where the center was.
Seriously? Not a single glance at her ass?
Maybe there was an attraction between us, maybe he wasn't as shallow as every other guy in this fucking universe.
“Well, she already said more than two words when you guys first got here. Maybe she'd talk more if you gave her the chance, and didn't answer for her immediately.” Lifting up a waxy piece of paper with a purple image in the center, he let his eyes fall back on mine. “So, tell me your name.”
“Didn't you hear her? It's Lo.” Setting my heels down on the floor, I finally settled my stomach enough to sit in the rickety folding chair beside Beth.
But I was by no means still. My muscles were trembling, foot patting the floor like a jackrabbit sending a warning through the dirt. And my heart was in overdrive, careening my ribs like a prisoner trying to break free.
“Lo? That's it? It's not short for something else?”
Inhaling a heavy breath, I closed my eyes and let my fingers tighten around the weak frame. “Willow, my name's Willow. Happy?”
“I sure am.” Biting his lower lip, his attention fell back to his current client. “How's this?” He asked her, holding up the Lily etched across the paper.
“That's perfect. You just drew that now?” Beth asked, twisting her brows up in amazement.
“Yeah, that's kind of what I do.”
“I love it.” Beth's teeth bared, the bright white filled her mouth as she let out an excited squeal. “What do you think, Lo?”
“It's pretty, what color are you going to make it?”
Tilting his head to his shoulder, Kash lifted one brow. “It's going to have a lot in there. With the shading, I'll add depth and dimension to the picture to make it really pop. I'll use a whole bunch by the time I'm done. But the main color will be a nice bright orange.”
Shading? Depth and dimension? In a tattoo? No way.
There was no way he could bring any realism to that image. He was using needles and skin, not real paint and a white canvas.
I didn't know that much about tattoos, but I couldn't even fathom he'd be able to draw anything more than a one dimensional cartoon flower on her back.
When I pictured a tattoo, the only image that ever crossed my mind was my grandfather's smeared, meshed together anchor he had on the center of his forearm.
It didn't even resemble an anchor anymore, it was more of a large blob, a picture from an ink blot test. The a
nchor had morphed into a half crab that was squished.
“Really? How the hell are you going to do that?”
“Just sit back and watch. And when it's your turn, I have something very special I drew up for you.”
“What is it?” My curiosity came clawing out like an eager kid on their birthday. I wanted to know what it was, where he wanted to put it, and what his mind could have even possibly created for me when he knew nothing about me at all.
“Patience, Willow, you'll see. And I guarantee you'll love it.” Spraying Beth's back, he rubbed the image onto her skin, and peeled away the stencil. Kash's foot tapped the pedal on the floor, a high pitched buzzing radiated through the room.
“Is this going to hurt?” Beth asked.
“I'm not going to lie, it might. Everyone is different, I guess it really depends on your threshold for pain. Some people say it isn't bad, others say it's the worst feeling they've ever experienced. I don't mind the pain, as you can tell.” Holding his arms out, he twisted them around.
I could see the tempting lines peaking out from the top of his shirt. Their thin fingers called to me, waving in my face as if to say, “There's more under here, come peel this cover off.”
Kash had ink that decorated him in areas I couldn't see. But wanted to see.
If his chest was as muscular as his arms, then the images could have a whole different dance of their own.
My body started to warm, stomach rolling to life with butterflies that suddenly turned into caged crows. Their wings slammed my insides as they flew around my gut, the intense torrent whirling in my core.
But I wasn't afraid anymore, I was excited. Pure adrenaline in the most innocent form; desire.
What the hell has come over me? Running a hand over my hair, my fingers smoothed the frayed edges.
The feeling hitting my chest was bizarre, an out of body experience. I spent my time running from people, not falling into them.
And Kash had me burning, from the way he looked at me, to the idea of him touching my skin; it gripped my muscles, puncturing my nerves.
“Alright, here we go,” he said, feathering the pedal. The buzzing seared my ears, bringing every piece of my body to life.