by Leah Holt
“But the night is young, leave your options open.” Throwing the drink back, I let the icy liquid sooth my throat.
Relax, have fun. Relax, relax...
I hate this feeling!
I wanted so badly to just be as free as Beth. It would be nice to have no filter for once, to let myself just go with it and do whatever the hell I wanted.
No worries about the 'what if's,' or the repercussions of tomorrow.
Free, I want to be free.
But I haven't been able to figure out how.
The next two hours went by and I had to admit, I had fun. Despite the shoulders of sweaty people I didn't know running across my skin, and the creepy winks and head nods of walking penises; we danced, we drank, and we flirted with random men.
Well Beth flirted, while I dealt with the repercussions of a creepy wing-man, whose eyes couldn't be bothered to lift higher than my chest.
But there was no way in hell I was taking anyone home with me.
Men in a bar were just like the rats that ran the streets. Some were fine, and cute, and sweet. But others came with filth, diseases, and lord knows what else.
One bite and you're done.
That was a risk I wasn't going to take. I didn't want to get up one morning with some STD from a random man-whore I brought home.
And I wasn't letting Beth wake up to the same horror. She'd thank me later for that one, even if she cried about it now.
“Alright, Beth, I'm tired. Let's head home.”
“Home? No, no, no. I'm sad we don't have any dick for the evening, I'll figure that out later.” Her head fell back to down the last drops of her drink. “But we have one more stop before we head home.” Smirking, she gripped my wrist and led me out the door.
“What do you mean? We came, we partied, now it's time to go.” I tried to stop on the sidewalk, halting our late night stroll into the dark unknown.
“Nope, not yet, Lo. There's one more thing we're doing tonight.” Her back faced me, as she started forward.
Fuck. What the hell does she have up her sleeve?
It was hard to tell with her. Whenever she didn't come right out and say what it was she had in mind, I knew that usually meant it was something I'd disagree with.
She learned over the years that if she kept her mouth shut, I'd be more likely to go along with it. There was one time when we were seventeen, Beth had this glorious idea for us to sneak out and go to a house party that a few seniors were throwing.
Sounds innocent enough, right?
Wrong. No one mentioned that the pizza they put out had magic mushrooms laced between the real mushrooms.
I knew it tasted funny.
Beth claimed she didn't know, but her slight smirk and giggling eyes, said otherwise.
That was the one and only time I'd ever experienced the Alice in Wonderland effects of the shroom. Don't ask me how, but we ended up on our backs in the middle of a golf course, staring at the flames of jets flying above.
And yes, I swear I could actually see the flames shooting out the back end of the plane.
After that I started really asking questions, and she started realizing she had to be more obscure about the plans.
Beth glided over the sidewalk, her long legs taking four steps to my one. I had to practically jog to keep up with her pace.
How the hell she was even able to walk that fast in heels was beyond me. It was like she was born in them, and the six inch spike at the base of her foot only propelled her further.
While my feet rocked side to side, ankle using every muscle it had to stay steady. I hated heels, and I knew they certainly didn't like me. The stabbing pain in my calves and balls of my feet, made that more than clear as I hobbled behind her.
Finally giving up, I kicked them off my feet and scooped them in my arms.
“Where are we going? I don't want to run around this city barefoot and blind. What the hell are we doing?”
“It's just around the corner, and it'll be fun. Something you've never done, and always wan—” Twisting her neck, she looked down at the top of my head. “Well, actually you've never said anything about wanting this before. But you'll love it, I promise.”
Yeah, I've heard that before.
“Love what?” Throwing my arms up, I trotted beside her. “What is it?”
“Have I ever steered you wrong?” My neck snapped up, lips pulling taut. “Forget I said that, here we are.” A huge smile hit her cheeks, hands falling to her hips.
It took me a moment to realize what I was reading. “Ink... A tattoo? No, no way. We're not getting tattooed, Beth.”
“Yes, yes we are.” Standing firm with her hands tightly on her sides, she cocked her hip out. “Come on, Lo, we can do this together. Just a small one, nothing big. And it would mean a lot if you got one with me.” Pressing her palms together, Beth curled her fingers around each other. “Please?”
“You're leaving in a couple days for Paris and you want a tattoo? Won't your agent get pissed?”
“No. There's plenty of girls that have them. I'm not getting an entire back piece or anything, just something little. Come on, please?” Batting her lashes, her eyes widened like a needy puppy.
I never understood how the hell she talked me into some of the shit we'd done, but Beth was good at it.
Even if I fought her tooth and nail, I'd find myself blinking and being right where she said we were going. All while still declaring that it was a bad idea, or that nothing good could come from what she wanted to do.
There was the rare occasion she would listen. And if she didn't listen, when shit started to go south or seem sketchy, my foot would slam down and Beth would toss in the white flag.
In the end, she convinced me to do a lot more than I would have done on my own.
I'm not saying I regret all of it, but there are some things I could have done without.
“I'll come in with you, but I'm not getting anything.”
“Just a little one, Lo. I want us to do it together, we won't be able to do anything for such a long time. Come on, be adventurous.” Nudging me with her elbow, she flashed a large smile.
“I'll look around, but I'm not making any promises.”
A fucking tattoo?
Seriously?
Chapter Two
Kash
The loud screams of heavy metal crackled through the speakers in the ceiling. Letting myself fall into the intense strumming of guitar rifts and the crashing of cymbals, I flicked the light on for my tracing table, ready to let the images flow.
Tattoos were my calling, my one and only lust. It was freedom in the form of flesh, pleasure in the form of pain.
There was nothing better than getting tagged by a needle or watching a permanent picture get stenciled across skin.
And when I would wipe away the final smear of ink, it was an orgasm for my eyes. My body would become electrified, every hair standing on end with a galvanic torch.
Seeing my work, watching the expression glow on the face of my client; there was nothing in my life that ever matched it.
Ever.
Passion and need were two different things, I didn't need to tattoo, but I loved it.
Pussy was gratifying, the feel of hot wet lips riding the ridges of my cock; it was incredible, the heat was explosive.
But it never compared to the rush I felt after seeing my work set in skin forever.
Rolling the graphite tip of my pencil smoothly over the transfer paper, the first lines of my imagination came to life.
I worked the paper, treating it like the blank flesh it would eventually capture. Every line was an emotion, every contour and curve was a piece of my inner mind.
Getting lost in what I loved was easy, it was living outside the page that had been a challenge. For years I walked the planet as a lost soul, an empty shell without a purpose.
That all changed when I found tattoos. After getting my first one, I was hooked.
Tattoos and pussy are one in the same, c
reated from the same mold. A taste was all it took, and the rest of your life was spent chasing that high.
But women... They'd never last a lifetime. That was a ride for the weak, a high that only ended in heartbreak and loneliness.
Screw that, I'm all set.
I liked being solo. No one to answer to, no one to question what I'm doing, where I'm going, who I'm going with. I'd be just fine without that leash.
My face was locked onto the page, eyes glued to the creation in my hands, when the jingle of the front door hit my ears.
Really? Of course someone had to show up now.
How could I forget that the earliest hours of the next morning was the waking hour of the sleepless around here.
Glancing up at the security monitor fastened to the wall, two young girls were standing in the front like frozen statues.
Shit, I was hoping the night was over. I really need to start this piece.
I had a huge back piece scheduled for the next day, and my client had changed their mind so many fucking times I finally gave up, eventually telling them to just let me do what I did best; envision, and tattoo.
All I needed was to know the basics. Tell me what you like, tell me what or who the tattoo is supposed to represent. And from that my fingers could manifest an image that would capture it all.
Leaning back in my chair, I tapped the pencil against my chin, watching them for a moment. It was amazing what you could learn from just observing.
One of the girls started to flaunt herself around the front, hips swinging out with more exaggeration than necessary.
Her lips were moving rapidly, brows shifting like small critters holding on for dear life.
But the other girl, she caught my attention. Standing back, her eyes wildly scanned around the room. The nerves riding her spine were visible with no more than one glance.
Even the small screen couldn't hide her fingers twining around each other, foot twisting awkwardly into the floor.
God I hope this is quick. Turn them away and tell them you're busy.
That's all you have to do.
Grunting, I pushed away from the desk, and walked out front. “What can I do for you?” The words felt as cold as ice. No emotion, no curiosity, only the letters that formed them built the tone.
The enthusiasm I branded on a typical day was locked inside my deadline, I didn't have room for games tonight.
Normally I was excited to have an unplanned visit, they were always fun.
Some of my best work was done on the fly. The excitement and energy of a person living life in the moment, breathing for time as it stood right in front of their face, it gave my fingers strength.
For a lot of people a tattoo held meaning, a special place in their world that was only for them and their memories. And I was the lucky one to brand them with it.
But tonight I had shit to take care of. I didn't have time to babysit two girls who seemed so out of place. I didn't have time to hold their hand and tell them how amazing and life changing a tattoo could be.
Sure, I could have just closed down shop, turned the open light off and locked myself away inside. Except I'd never been able to do that.
The lights stayed on till three in the morning, and it was only one. That wouldn't make for good business, your reputation was everything around here.
And I held my reputation high, my name had weight, people knew who I was and respected me.
Respect was what ran this city, it gave me everything I needed. Everything I'd ever wanted and missed in the life I held before.
Getting into the habit of closing the doors early would only mean I'd lose everything I'd built, and I'd end up hitting the bottle at some point.
My life would spiral back down into the abyss I had worked so hard to crawl out of. The darkness would grab hold of my ankle, swooping me off my feet, and back into its endless hole.
I couldn't let that happen. That would destroy me, just like it had so many times before, just like it stole my family.
The life before I found my voice; my words in skin.
I'd been sober for over two years; two long, hard, worth every minute years. The more time I spend doing shit, the less trouble I got into.
I put too much effort into this place to let it dissipate into dust right in front of my eyes. Everything I had, everything I built around my name; it cemented my place in this city, gave me authority and leverage to have anything and everything I'd ever wanted.
And I took it, claimed it, called it mine.
Because that's what it was, it was all mine.
Looking the girls over, I could tell exactly who the ring leader was.
The girl with reddish hair had a smile gleaming across her jaw, fingers dancing excitedly as she flipped through my portfolio on the front desk.
Definitely the driver of this little pop in.
She didn't look shy or nervous, but she did look a bit tipsy. Her feet wobbled slightly in her heels, legs anchoring down into the carpet to keep steady.
Yeah, this is what I need. Two drunk girls, who probably want matching tattoos.
Red was cute, but not my type; she was too tall, and lanky. There was no meat on her bones, and I swear if I had a drumstick I would've been able to play chopsticks across her ribs.
Her makeup was as bright as her dress, the gold dusting meant to coat her lids was thick and pasty. Fake lashes expanded like long fingers over her eyes, spreading like wings of a raven instead of the sexy wisps of wind-blown flowers.
Instinctively my eyes were drawn to the motionless girl set in the background. With bright blonde hair, a body to die for, and the face of an angel; she was easy to get lost in.
There was no packed clay across her skin, no magnified color to steal her perfection. Small breasts sat high upon her chest like perfect raindrops. Just the right size to lick up in one slurp, sucking them deep into my mouth.
I hated anything fake and made of plastic; it was unnatural. A cheap way to divert the eyes from the ugliness hidden beneath the surface.
And if you asked me... A complete waste of money.
Now, I'm not talking about reconstructive surgery for an accident of deformity that needs correction, and is out of that person's control. No, I'm talking about ordinary people who just demand to have what they think is better, or needed.
It was insane the amount of cash someone was willing to pay to have the body they were given turned into a Barbie doll. I never understood it.
How could they let a doctor take what they were born with and make it plastic?
What was the purpose?
I knew the answer, and it was just as sad as it was simple.
It was all because of media backlash over what was acceptable. Because of popular magazines declaring what woman or men should look like.
It was because the world had decided women over a size eight were plus sized, and that men should have calves as large as their biceps. To me it was complete bullshit.
All the lipo, the injections, the silicone, it was disgusting. A mask that needed upkeep, replacements, and followups to make sure nothing was infected or burst.
Fuck that.
Every body was perfect the way it was made. We all have our own flaws, we all have our own likes and dislikes. But to willingly go under the knife to try and find your ultimate happiness...
Pointless.
I know I might sound hypocritical. I layer skin with ink that wasn't meant to be there. I'm sure a lot of people would say it's the same thing, but it's not, it's far from it.
I'm not changing their body into a completely different form, I'm adding to the beauty it already displayed.
Tattoos are an art, an expression of someone and their personality, or the life they've led. You can learn a lot about someone from the ink they wear.
My suggestion, take the time to ask them about it, see what you learn.
The blonde shifted on her feet, my eyes immediately drawn to her hips curving in below the ribs. She was fitte
d with a starring hour glass figure my fingers could stroke for days.
I couldn't pull my eyes off her, she was stunning.
Standing a foot behind her friend, she chewed on her bottom lip, teeth nibbling away the color. She looked more reserved, and shy. Her hands were wrapped tightly behind her back, legs crossed over each other as she stood plastered in place with bare feet.
“We...” The red haired woman flicked a finger between her and her cute friend. “Want to get tattoos. Right, Lo?” Shooting her friend a playful glance, she looked back at me.
“Well, this is the right place for that. Do you know what you want to get and where?”
I can only hope you do. Make this as easy as possible for me. Please.
Pressing a finger to her lips, the redhead's eyes flirted in my direction. “What do you recommend? I mean as far as places go?” Tugging her skirt up higher, she dipped a toe into the floor. “Because I'll get tattooed any place you'd like to see. My body is willing, and so am I.” Her hand slipped up her side, wrapping over her breast.
Is she for real? No, thank you. But your friend... She's worth exploring.
Taking a heavy breath, I looked over her shoulder to the quiet blonde. “Do you know what you want?”
She didn't speak, only shaking her head with uncertainty. Her eyes were held open wide, a delicate fear sitting in the darkness of her pupils. Tight curls floated over her collarbone, spiraling up into her scalp.
Instantly I saw myself twining my fingers deep inside, letting the silky strands tighten against my palm as I pulled.
A little tug might calm her nerves, it might ease the tension coiling inside her belly.
No, not tonight. Deadline, you have a deadline.
“Well, it seems to me you ladies haven't thought this through. How about you guys go home, think it over, and come back when you have a better idea of what you'd like to get.”
The redhead turned bright crimson. Her skin enhanced five shades, the pale white turning bright cherry. I was pretty sure if her eyes could have shot lead slugs at me, she would have.
She doesn't like being told no. One of them... Great.
I knew this wouldn't be simple.
“Excuse me? I'm here, ready for one now, and you're saying you won't do it?” Her hand snapped to her hip, jaw crooking to the side.
