“Yes,” I say, holding out the piece of paper to Greg. “And this is what he is getting. But he doesn’t get to see it until after.”
Ben closes his eyes as Greg unfolds it. When Greg laughs, Ben just shakes his head.
“It’s a dick, isn’t it?” Ben asks. “At least tell me it’s an impressive dick.”
“It’s not a dick. Just fitting.” Greg laughs again. “Where is he getting it?” Folding it back up, he slides it on his table.
“Placed like a tramp stamp.” I grin.
“Ha!” Ben laughs. “That would be something.”
“I honestly don’t know. Take off your shirt.” Ben’s eyes snap open, looking at me. “It’s not like there aren’t pictures all over the internet of you shirtless. Plus, I’ve already seen you naked.”
“I like her.” Greg smiles.
“Glad someone does.” Ben smirks, slipping off his jacket. He drapes it over a nearby chair, moving closer to me. Pulling his shirt over his head he tosses it at me. “Happy?”
“Turn for me.” I swirl my finger, as Greg starts up the tattoo gun.
“Stay still,” Greg says. “If it hurts too much, let me know, but once I get going, you’ll either have to let me finish or end up with a fucked-up line, got it?”
“Yeah,” I say as Ben slowly turns around, letting me look over his body. I spot a decent size empty space on his left shoulder blade. “Left shoulder blade. He will get it on his left shoulder blade.”
“Okay.” Greg nods. “I’m going to start now. Ready?”
I nod as Ben turns around. He steps toward me, offering me his hand. I don’t take it. I’m determined to not need it. It can’t be that bad if so many people are covered in them. I can handle this.
The first stab of the needle makes me gasp, but it repeats so quickly I don’t even know if it’s the first one or the hundredth now. It doesn’t hurt, not really. It feels more like getting scratched than anything else. I glance at Ben whose eyes are glued to me.
“You okay, baby?” His voice is low.
“Yeah. I think so. It just feels weird.”
“I like the feeling.”
“I might too.”
It’s weird and a bit uncomfortable. Also peaceful. Out of all the pain I’ve felt recently, this bit of discomfort is going to lead to something beautiful, instead of just misery. So I’ll endure it.
I relax, letting my head fall back against the chair, Ben rests his hand above my head. I can feel his eyes still on me, but I turn my attention to what Greg is doing to my ankle.
I know I’m getting his artwork on me. That would probably mean something to other people, but my act of rebellion is mine alone. The art he could own, but the tattoo itself is all mine. My little act of defiance.
Greg moves the needle to a higher part of my ankle, and I wince. He is now working over the bone which is a bit more painful than peaceful. My hand reaches up, on its own, seeking Ben’s comfort. I don’t have time to pull it away before Ben takes it.
“He won’t be there long,” he whispers in my ear as he draws circles in my palm. “You are doing so well. I bet you’ll be back in this chair soon, needing another fix.”
“No,” I say softly. Not because it hurts, but if I get any more, my parents would disown me for sure.
Greg moves away from the boney part of my ankle, and I relax again.
“That was the worst of it,” Ben says into my ear again. “He just about finished with the horns. You could stop now if you want.”
I shake my head.
“Good girl. I knew you could take it.”
My stomach flutters at his words and I try to keep my composure. I don’t need him getting the wrong idea. I highly doubt I’m going to be able to fuck him any time soon, if ever.
