“Mhm…” he hums. “Do your feet ever stop moving?”
Peering down, I watch my wriggling my toes and ankles. They’d been growing dead from laying down so long, so I’ve been keeping them moving to encourage proper blood circulation.
“Not really.” I laugh. “My mum says I’ve always had dancing feet. Even before I was born.”
“Is that why you took up dancing?”
I nod. “I didn’t really have much choice at three-years old, when Mum decided to put me in baby ballet classes, but apparently, I loved it. As I got older, any opportunity to dance, I took. My cousins and I used to make up our own routines and perform them in front of our family, mainly so we could ask them for a favour, usually a sleepover and a bucket of ice cream each.”
“Did it work?”
I grin. “Sometimes.”
“Did you always know you wanted to teach dance?”
“Always.”
“So why not set up your own dance company? You could have your own studio, not just at the gym and—”
“I’d love to, Hudson, but I don’t have the funds… Yet,” I tack on the end. “I don’t come from a wealthy family so I can’t borrow something they don’t have and I’m working on my credit score but it’s still a long way away from being good enough that I could get a loan. I have a savings pot, but… it’ll happen when it happens.”
“One sugary glass of pop.” Charlie makes his return at the perfect time, handing me a cold glass filled with a distinct orange coloured fizzy drink inside. The bubbles fly up my nose, but I force down a few sips and return to my supine position.
Hudson stays silent but doesn’t pull his hand away as Charlie begins tattooing me again, flicking his eyes between my face and the patch of black ink forming the shape of a lotus flower and moon on my skin.
With a final scribble of shading, Charlie finally declares he’s finished.Thank fuck. I’m not sure I could take much more. He hands the mirror to me again, so I can see my tattoo before he wraps it up.
“I love it,” I gush, grinning. “Thank you, Charlie.”
He smiles, stripping off his latex gloves and throwing them into the waste basket in the corner. “You’re welcome. Sit up and I’ll wrap it. Do you need me to run through the aftercare steps again?”
I shake my head, holding out my palm for Hudson to hand me back my t-shirt.
“Arms up, then.” Charlie comes at me with a roll of plastic wrap, tearing a portion off and beginning to tape it between my breasts. It takes a bit of manoeuvring to slip my shirt back over my head, mainly because my hands are still a little shaky, buteventually my head pops out of the neckline, and I can roll the soft fabric down to cover my bralette and stomach.
I slurp back the rest of my carbonated drink and swing my legs from the chair, happy to be able to walk off the cramp slowly building in both of my calves.
“Are you feeling okay?” Charlie asks.
“Yep, all good. I can feel the shakes starting to wear off now.”
“That’ll be the release of adrenaline slowing down. Did Freya take your payment in full for the ink?”
I bob my head.
“Great. Don’t forget the aftercare steps and if there’s any problems, just give us a call. Alright?”
“I will do. See you—”
“Stay,” Hudson interrupts. “Stay while I get tattooed and then…”
I pause, waiting for whatever he was going to say next. “And then…?”
Hudson’s lips tick up at the corner. That faux boyish innocence is back on his face “I’m going to need someone to hold my hand.”
“Charlie can do it.”
Both men erupt into loud laughter.
