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For the first few days, the tattoo really hurt. She put the ointment on it that she’d read about on the internet and made sure to keep it clean. By Friday, it was only a little red, and she was feeling much better about it. Heading out the door, she was suddenly filled with confidence she’d never had before. Always the good girl, the rule follower, maybe tonight was her night. Maybe tonight, she would finally have sex with some random guy and feel like a real woman.
“Going to Becky’s for the night, Mom!” she called back.
“Be careful. Crazy drivers and all that,” she said, kissing her daughter’s cheek. “Your father is barbecuing tomorrow, so be home by noon.”
“Okay. See you then,” she said, waving at her mother.
She stopped in front of Becky’s house, the young girl running out and tossing her bag on the seat. The two girls picked up another two girls and made their way toward the clubs on Magazine. You could feel the base pumping as they pulled closer.
“This club is so cool!” said Becky. Already eighteen, she could get into most of the clubs without any issues. Although New Orleans’ bigger clubs required you to be twenty-one, some looked the other way if you were eighteen.
“Your tattoo looks amazing!” said Tally.
“Thank you,” she grinned. “I feel so chic with this, so grown-up.” She felt a tap on the back of her arm and turned to see a good-looking guy. He was probably in college, but he was hot.
“Wanna dance?” he asked. She nodded, taking his hand as they moved to the bump of the bass and the grind of the treble. Christina tried her sexy moves, making sure she turned for him to see her tattoo.
“Love the tat, babe. But why that word?” he grinned.
“What do you mean?” she asked. He just shook his head.
“I’ve got like six tattoos, so I’m kind of familiar with Chinese characters.” He pulled up his shirt, showing her the tattoo running along his abdomen. He was ripped, and she could feel her blood running hot as he ground his hips against hers.
“Yeah, those are really cool,” she said nervously. He stared at her, smirking and shaking his head. If she was eighteen, it happened in the last thirty days. There was an innocence about her that he didn’t want to test. The problem was, she was seriously sexy in a very girlish way.
“Let’s ditch this dive and head to my place,” he said, feeling her out.
“I just got here,” she said. He stepped back, looking at her.
“How old are you?” he frowned.
“I’m eighteen,” she said. He shook his head, stepping back again. “I swear!”
“Listen, you’re really hot, but I don’t want to get arrested. I’m a law student at Tulane, and I have my life pretty much planned out, and it doesn’t include rape of an underage girl.”
“Can’t we just dance?” she asked. He smiled at her, bending to kiss her cheek. It was done with almost brotherly affection, and he felt a sense of pride that he was turning away from an easy night of hot, probably virgin, sex.
“I think you should go home,” he said as his friends came to find him. They started to pull him away, and he turned back to the girl. “That tattoo isn’t what you think it is. Maybe get it removed.”
Christina felt completely and utterly defeated. She walked toward her friends, asking them to leave with her, but they were having fun. Of course, they were all eighteen. They’d probably hook up with a few guys, make out, or maybe even have sex. She was relegated to just dancing and kissing. To find out that her tattoo wasn’t as cool as she thought really made her angry. She would have to find the tattoo artist again and get him to put something over it.
“We want to stay. I mean, the music is great at this place, and the guys are smokin’ hot. Besides, it’s early. Is everything alright?” asked Becky. She could tell by her friend’s face that everything was not alright. “Listen, we can take a cab home. It’s not a big deal.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s okay. You go on if you want. Don’t rush this, Christina. You’ll be eighteen soon enough.”
Waving goodbye to her friends, she made her way out of the club and into the cool night air. She was feeling pretty low about the hot guy leaving her. All she wanted to do now was get home. Suddenly, she felt the grip of strong hands on her upper arm.
“Let me go!” she yelled, struggling against the big man holding her arm. She squirmed, trying to get free, yelling louder. “Let me go!”
“No can do, sweetness,” he smiled his dirty smile. He didn’t appear much older than the guy she’d just left, but he was strong, and there was something about him that made her freak. “You belong to me.”
“I don’t belong to anyone. Let me go! I’m not who you think I am. I’m a student at Loyola. I’m just headed home.”
“Sorry, baby, that tattoo says you’re mine.”
“What? No, that’s a new tattoo. The guy totally screwed it up, and I was going to have it fixed next weekend.”
