Alluring Ink

by Ranae Rose

  “Well, how’s it feel?” Dylan asked, keeping his gaze locked with Crystal’s.

  “How’s what feel?” Her voice was light and sweet, a perfect complement to her willowy figure and soft features.

  “Having your latest tattoo done. Or will it take more sessions to finish?”

  She shook her head. “It’s done. And it was my first tattoo, actually.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. It’s not as sore as I imagined it would be.”

  “Where’s the placement?” He resisted the urge to let his gaze rove all over her body, taking in every slender plane and delicate curve, imagining how ink might look spilled across any of them.

  “My upper back, just between my shoulder blades.”

  “Some people consider that a painful spot. You must be tough.”

  She cracked a smile. “I wouldn’t know – I’ve never been tattooed anywhere else. I think it helped that I was able to relax, since my brother was the artist. I knew I was in good hands.”

  He nodded. Trust between an artist and a client was imperative. He tried to make his clients as comfortable as he could, but it was hard to imagine any rapport he built during his time with them rivaling the life-long bond between siblings.

  “I’m tattooing a client in the same spot today. The piece extends all the way across his shoulders and upper back.”

  “Wow. I don’t know how well I’d hold up during such a large tattoo.”

  Dylan shrugged. “He’s got plenty of ink already. Knew what he was in for. He’s a model client, actually. Doesn’t move around, cry or twitch…”

  “Do people cry very often?”

  “Not usually, but sometimes. And others do weirder things than that. I had a client tell me they were going to use the restroom once. I waited and waited … he never came back.”

  “So they were okay with being stuck with an unfinished tattoo?”

  “Apparently. I e-mailed and called … never heard from the guy again. Luckily, I’d only been tattooing for a few minutes, so I didn’t waste too much time on him.”

  Crystal laughed. “I can’t imagine doing that. Once it was started, I’d want the tattoo finished, no matter what.”

  Dylan’s exchange with Crystal had his heart beating a little faster.

  “Hey, why don’t you have a seat?” He motioned to the empty chair she was standing by.

  “Sure.” Her smile lingered. “I’m just going to grab a coffee and a sandwich first.”

  He watched her walk up to the counter and order, unable to tear his gaze away. She was beautiful and although he didn’t know whether he really had a shot with her, even the prospect of watching her eat a sandwich held undeniable appeal.

  When she returned, she sat down across from him with a cup of coffee and smiled. “So, how come you’re not across the street – taking a lunch break?”

  “Just grabbing a cup of coffee. We’ve been going for a couple hours, and my client and I decided to take a fifteen minute break.”

  “Well, I hope he doesn’t run out on you.”

  Dylan’s mind balked at the idea. He wanted to finish that tattoo – needed to. It was unfolding perfectly, just as he’d imagined. And he knew already that it was some of his best work.

  “I don’t think I need to worry about that,” he said. “This guy already has a full sleeve, and I haven’t seen any abandoned outlines anywhere on him.”

  Crystal left briefly to get her sandwich when they called her number, then returned and resumed sipping her coffee. Dylan’s gaze was drawn to the sparkling, pink lip print left on the rim of her coffee cup. The sight sent a pang of desire sailing through him.

  “What’s the design you’re tattooing for him like?”

  He described the ravens in flight and the red blossoms budding below them. He didn’t tell her how deeply satisfying tattooing the piece was, or how his interpretation of the design seemed to breathe life into every line and dot of ink.

  But he did try to give her a feel for the aesthetic beauty of the design, the way the tiny budding flowers were vibrant and crucial to the design instead of minor details, the way the ravens’ outstretched wings defied their natural boundaries and soared into explosions of ink and energy.

  “It sounds so intense, when you describe it like that,” she said. “Like it’s a painting in a museum instead of a tattoo. I’d really like to see it. Will you be taking any pictures for your portfolio when it’s done?”

  “Yeah.” Her enthusiasm had him fighting a grin. He wanted to show her the piece, wanted to watch her face as she studied the design so that he could try to divine her reaction, the way it made her feel.

  If it made her feel anything at all. Maybe he was projecting his own feelings onto her, but he liked the idea of showing her the tattoo. Hell, he liked any idea that gave him an excuse to talk to her.

  “If you give me your number, I’ll text you a picture when it’s done,” he said.

  She met his eyes, and the flash of surprise in her expression was unmissable.

  He forged ahead, figuring that since he’d made the suggestion, he might as well own up to the other reason he wanted a way to get in touch with her.

  “If you’d like me to, I could give you a call too, and we could pick a time and place to have lunch. We could hang out just like we are now,” he said, “only I wouldn’t have to run out on you in five minutes to get back to a client.”

  Her eyes widened a little, and she met his eyes, then glanced down at her coffee.

  “I could meet you on my lunch break if it was on a work day. I put my daughter in daycare on my work days, but not on my days off. I’m a single mom.”

  Surprise arrowed through him. She was a mother? Her figure was more waif-like than mom-like, though when he looked at her face he could see that she was more mature than her slim figure betrayed from a distance – in her mid-twenties, or a little older.

  “Whatever’s best for you. I’m sure I could meet you near your work during one of your breaks sometime this week.”

  She blinked and held his gaze. “Okay. Great. But… Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not some free spirit looking for a fling. I have a lot of responsibilities, and my daughter is my top priority.”

  He nodded, mildly ashamed by the wary look in her eyes, but not nearly enough so to take back his invitation. He wasn’t about to forget the look she’d given him when they’d first met, and he ached to spend more time with her, even if he never got to taste those glossy pink lips.

  Maybe that made him a masochist, but he was enjoying sitting across from her and just talking. Especially since she hadn’t mentioned Ultimate Ink Challenge. He was pretty sure she had no idea he’d been a part of the show, and that was refreshing.

  People always asked him the same question about his time on the show, and he was tired of hearing it, tired of making up vague bullshit answers to mask the truth.

  “I understand,” he said. “It’s just lunch, and it won’t mean you owe me anything – I realize that.”

  She flashed him a wavering smile. “We’ll have to compare work schedules. I only put my daughter in daycare today because of my tattoo appointment.”

  “How old is your daughter?”

  “Sixteen months.”

  “Wow. You must have your hands full.”

  “I spend about fifty percent of my time at home washing onesies and cleaning up crushed Cheerios.”

  “What about the rest of your time – do you spend it making your videos?”

  “Yes, but I also work the cosmetics counter at a department store in the Ross Park Mall. We could eat somewhere near the mall, if you have time to drive out there – there’s a restaurant I like to go to for lunch.”

  “What’s your break schedule like?”

  They compared schedules and settled on the next day, since Crystal would be taking a late lunch around three thirty, and Dylan planned to wrap up a forearm tattoo around a quarter ‘till three, which would give him enough ti
me to make it to a restaurant she liked near the mall.

  After they agreed on the time, he reluctantly bid her goodbye and went back across the street, ready to get back to work on his client. Between the tattoo and his upcoming date with Crystal, he couldn’t remember the last time a single day had brought him so much satisfaction.

  * * * * *

  The fact that Crystal sold high-end cosmetics for a living made her appearance an important part of her job. On work days, she applied make-up with care, sticking to a palette of neutral tones designed to create a professional appearance. She saved her bold looks, new colors and products for after work, when she was free to experiment.

  This morning, though, she found herself debating shades of champagne and camel, wondering whether she should indulge in a richer color selection, just for today.

  She wanted to look good when she met Dylan for lunch. Maybe it was ridiculous – after all, he was only going to be in town for a few weeks – but this was her first date since before Emily’s father had abandoned her, and she wanted it to be a positive experience. She could use the confidence boost, the reassurance that she was still capable of navigating the dating world and that someday, she might find someone to spend the rest of her life with.

  Right now, it seemed more like a fairy tale than a real possibility, but if she stayed bitter and let herself resent men because of her past experiences, there was no way she’d ever find love. And someday, she wanted to know what it was like.

  The fact that Dylan wanted to go on a no-pressure date with her was a stroke of luck. They’d probably have fun, and she could polish her embarrassingly rusty dating skills without risking getting in over her head. It was the perfect scenario. So why did her hands shake as she applied her liquid eyeliner?

  She ended up having to clean away the excess make-up and straighten the lines she’d drawn. In the end, she went with her usual neutral eye make-up, but added a pop of color with her favorite lip gloss. As she packed Emily’s diaper bag, put her in her car seat and drove to work, making a detour at the daycare center, she was excited.

  And a little scared.

  * * * * *

  After Dylan and Crystal settled in at a bistro near the mall, Dylan pulled a carefully folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

  “This is the original sketch for that tattoo you asked to see.”

  She leaned across the small table, and her hair brushed the back of his hand.

  The simple contact felt electric, and as he breathed in the strawberry scent he assumed lingered from her shampoo, his body temperature rose by at least a degree.

  “The detail is amazing,” she said. “And I like that you put a twig with a flower in that raven’s beak.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I mean, ravens are kind of gloomy, aren’t they? But I think the flowers, especially the one in its mouth, make these birds seem kind of hopeful. Like they’re rising above something. The whole drawing just gives off such a sense of freedom.”

  Dylan froze, and could feel his heart beat as he stared at Crystal, then back down at the sketch. He traced every line and contour with his gaze, marveling at the fact that she’d just described what he’d felt when he’d drawn it.

  It wasn’t every day he met someone he saw eye to eye with. When she looked up, he felt for just a second that she was looking right through him, seeing inside where – apparently – the wheels in his mind turned the same way hers did.

  She laughed and rested her head on one hand. “That sounds dumb, doesn’t it?”

  “No,” he said. “Not at all. Do you want to see the finished tattoo?”

  “Of course.” She moved to the edge of her seat, and he used his phone to show her the picture he’d taken after he’d finished tattooing.

  “It’s amazing,” she said, her eyes widening. “I like it even better in color. You were right about the red standing out. What did your client say when you finished the tattoo?”

  “He seemed happy with it. I believe his exact words were ‘fucking awesome’.”

  That made Crystal laugh too. He liked the sound of her laughter, and the way it made him feel: as if he were ten feet tall.

  “I’m a little jealous,” she said. “It’s such a great tattoo, although I don’t envy him for having to sit through it.”

  He put his phone away and started to fold up the sketch, but stopped when he noticed the way her gaze was lingering on it.

  “Do you want this?”

  “What, the drawing? Really?”

  “I don’t need it. I just brought it to show to you.”

  It was only a sketch – creased from being in his pocket, and nothing special. But her face lit up like he’d offered her something worth having.

  “If you’re sure you don’t need it.”

  He pressed it into her hand, and she grinned, then tucked it carefully into her purse.

  “What about your work?” he asked as he picked up his lunch – a sandwich on some kind of fancy bread with herbs and cheese baked in. “Anything exciting happen behind the make-up counter this morning?”

  She set down her iced tea. “Only if you consider dealing with a habitual sample exploiter exciting.”

  “What’s a habitual sample exploiter?”

  “We’re giving away free samples of a certain perfume right now, and there’s a one per customer limit. There’s this woman who comes in every day, sometimes more than once per day, and demands a free sample. She changes her clothes and tries to talk to a different employee each time, but there are only a few of us in the cosmetics department, so it’s obvious what she’s doing.”

  “So, what’s her game – she likes the perfume, but doesn’t want to pay for it?”

  “More likely, she’s selling the samples on the internet. The sample vials are tiny but it’s an expensive scent, so I’m sure there are people willing to buy them.”

  “Right. Well, at least that’s something I don’t have to worry about in my line of work – nobody ever asks for a little sample of a tattoo. I do get e-mails from people trying to haggle with me over my rate, though.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. There’s a vocal percentage of humanity that feels artists don’t deserve to be paid well, if at all.”

  Her eyes widened. “Personally, I’d be afraid if someone offered to put something permanent in my body on the cheap.”

  “Believe me, you should be. But some people just want something for nothing.”

  She nodded. “You’re preaching to the choir. Don’t even get me started on the number of free makeovers I give people, only to have them tell me at the end that they love the products but would rather buy them online, in hopes of finding a lower price.

  “I mean, I know it’s free, but I work on commission and it really grates when they tell me that and then ask me to write down the products I used for them.”

  Dylan grimaced. “Yeah. That sucks.”

  “With work like yours though, I bet you’ve got plenty of clients lined up who are happy to pay your rate.”

  Her words made him sit up a little straighter in his chair. Damn, he liked watching her lips move when she talked, especially when she was complimenting him.

  He was confident in his work – had been before he’d ever been on TV. But for some reason, Crystal’s praise was something special.

  Impressing other people meant bookings and money and the chance to create art that would last a lifetime.

  Impressing Crystal was a pleasure in and of itself. Putting a smile on her face was a goal worth pursuing, and seeing admiration in her eyes when she looked at something he’d created – well, that was like a high.

  “Sure,” he finally said. “I’m lucky to have loyal clients back in Newark, and new ones here. The emails from people who aren’t serious about getting tattooed are really just a nuisance I feel fortunate to be able to complain about.”

  He didn’t mention the show. Talking to someone who didn’t know was too enjoyable to ruin.


  She grinned. “Maybe I’ll have the same problem someday with my make-up artistry. Here’s hoping.”

  “Do you work outside of the department store?”

  “Well, not exactly – not yet. I mean, I don’t hire myself out as a commercial make-up artist, but I have my make-up tutorials and styling videos.” She wore a v-neck top, and the skin exposed below her collarbones turned a delicate shade of pink.

  “Right. Do you make money from those, or are they just for fun?”

  “I make money from the advertisements – it’s pretty great. I’ve thought of branching out and offering my services for events – weddings, special occasions and stuff like that.

  “I want to spend as much time as possible with Emily, though, and the online stuff is something I can do from home. I might pursue working as a freelance make-up artist when she’s older.”

  Crystal glanced at her phone and frowned.

  “Wow. I hate to go, but my break is almost over. I can’t believe how fast this went by.”

  “Me neither.” Disappointment hit him hard. He couldn’t believe how fast time had flown, either. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an easy, genuinely enjoyable conversation with a woman.

  He couldn’t let her go without making sure he’d see her again.

  “Can we see each other again?” he asked as she pushed back her chair and stood.

  She hesitated – only briefly, but he noticed.

  “Sure,” she said. “We can do lunch again.”

  He figured that was her nice way of reminding him that she wouldn’t be leaping out of her panties during his brief stay in Pittsburgh.

  He was okay with that – aching at the mere thought of her panties dropping, but okay. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder whether it would be a possibility if he decided to make his stay in the steel city permanent. After all, there’d been that look she’d given him…

  “I never gave you my number,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Tell me yours and I’ll give you a call – then you can save mine.”

  He rattled off his phone number, and seconds later, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He answered, ended the call and added her number to his contacts under ‘Crystal’.