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’thingfor 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. Itismore special when you like the woman you’re marking. There’s an added something, a layer to itreserved 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 wouldmyequivalent 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…magnificentcivilization, and all their many influenceson the modern world, all those stories, all that culture. I mean, they inventedink, 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, butnotdoing it doesn’t make me any less horny. Or stop me wondering from how she’d respond…
Alcohol swab first, then I’ll transfer the outline onto your skin with special paper.
I’ve already prepared the transfer. It would have been a waste if she hadn’t liked the design exactly as is, but I needed to stay busy in the run-up to her appointment to calm the nerves in my stomach.
“Absolutely, let’s do this. Sorry, when I get on my soapbox about something it’s incredibly difficult for me to stop talking. I’m sure you’ve noticed I tend to run on a bit. I’m not the best at reading social cues when I’m in full flow, so do tell me to belt up if it gets too much. I won’t mind, because I won’t notice unless I’m told. Maybe you could, I don’t know, tap my shoulder three times if I’m distracting or annoying you? Anyway, where was I… Oh, yes. I just thought that the Rosetta Stone is something that represents what’s meaningful to my life, and the more I thought about it the more interesting the idea came, so I added this tattoo concept to my bucket list, and this was one entry I could tick off sooner rather than later if I went for it. And I did my research, and…that tickles…?”
I’ve placed the transfer of the first quarter of the design on the top right of her back, and I’m pretty sure it’s in the perfectposition. I pin the excess tattoo paper and take a quick photo with my cell to get her approval for the placement.
“Looks good to me.” She glances up at me and winces a little. “It’s time, isn’t it?”
I take back my tablet. It’s not as easy to type with the rubber gloves on, but I manage it.
You can change your mind. Nobody, least of all me, will think badly of you. But if you ARE going to back out, now’s the time. I offer up a prayer to the tattoo gods that she won’t, but I have to make the offer.
She snorts. “Bollocks to that,” she says, her nose wrinkling defiantly, “we’re doing this.” She turns and grabs the edge of the chair, visibly bracing herself. “Go for it.”
I scroll through my original notes and show her another conversation starter I thought of before the appointment. I’ve always found it’s best to distract nervous clients as much as possible. Challenging, in my position, but do-able.
Tell me about all the languages you can speak.
She smiles wryly as she reads it and gives me a knowing look. “Well played.” Yeah, she knows exactly what I’m doing, but I hope it works anyway. I decide to give her a few seconds to get into full flow before I begin.
She settles back down and closes her eyes. “Well, I’ve been a polyglot for as far back as I can remember. I mean, I said my first words when I was six months old, and I could speak good English, French, and Spanish,” her voice becomes a little shaky as I turn on the needle, “by the time I was FOUR, OWWWWWW!”
I check the short line I just inked on her, because she jumped slightly, but fortunately it’s fine and in the right place. Then I glance at her with an enquiring look.
She giggles. “That was…both worse than, and nowhere near as bad as, I’d expected.” Her eyes sparkle with good humour,giving a brilliant shine to the dark color. “I’m good. Carry on.”I raise my eyebrow in what Sadie describes as ‘the Gastright look’. “Yes, I’m sure,” she interprets correctly.
Here goes.
“Anyway…” Her voice has an edge to it once I start up again with the needle, which seems louder than normal for some reason, but she’s taking it like a champ. I’m impressed, given that it’s her first go. “I just have an ear for languages, and I can speak a fair few. I’m currently writing a book on Dutch dialects, which, you know, could not be more esoteric if I tried, but…ooh, starting to get used to how this feels…a bit like nettle rash, maybe?” She cringes slightly, and I pause. “No, don’t stop, please keep going…”
My jaw tightens. Those words from her lips are giving meideas. The sort that make my blood heat up and rush south.
“Just let me settle into it, I’ll be fine,” she says gamely, and I feel a strange urge to take her hand. To lace my fingers with hers and gently squeeze.
