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“Oh, come on, ribs, that sexy neck... lower back?” I suggested, a teasing smile on my face.
Another roll of those perfect brown eyes.
“Where’s the most inconspicuous location on the body?” she asked the artist as she pushed those plush lips out into a pout.
“There are lots of different places you could put it to hide it, but given this is a phone number, I’m assuming you don’t want to see it on a recurring basis, nor would you want someone else to see it when you take off your clothes.”
That’s exactly what I want, I thought. My phone number tattooed on her perfect body so if anyone touches her, they’d have to ask whose number that is.
“Foot,” Sasha said, her eyes narrowing at mine. “I’ve heard tattoos on the feet fade faster than other parts of the body.”
“Getting a tattoo on the foot can be more painful compared to other areas of the body. The foot has less muscle and fat, and the skin is closer to the bone, making the sensation more intense, especially if this is your first tattoo,” the artist explained.
However, Sasha insisted that was where she wanted it placed. I didn’t have any feet tattoos myself, but I knew from my own tattoos, a foot tattoo wasn’t going to be a painless experience. Realizing Sasha was intent on it being her foot, the artist shrugged as he set up his equipment.
Sasha slipped one of her perfect feet out of her black Doc Marten boots, revealing tan toes with white painted toenails. Suddenly, I wondered what it would be like to have those feet wrapped around my neck as I thrust into her.
“You know, I had an ex who was a nurse,” I said, smiling down at Sasha as I stood next to the seat. “She said that having sex while in labor releases endorphins, which help with pain management.”
“First off, I’m not in labor. Second, I’m definitely not having sex with you while getting a tattoo in the middle of Dublin, Ethan.”
“So, if you weren’t getting a tattoo right now you would?”
She rolled her eyes.
I chuckled. “Well, she also said kissing releases endorphins and can help with the pain, too.”
Another roll of those big, gorgeous brown eyes.
“Just something to think about,” I said, winking.
The artist finished cleaning the inside spot on her foot and his pen buzzed to life.
As the first needles hit her foot, Sasha reached out reflexively, grabbing my arm as her eyes went wild.
“Shit. Ouch. Ok. Shit. Fine. Kiss me.” She said through gritted teeth.
“You don’t have to beg.” I said teasingly as she gripped my arm harder, her eyes now ablaze from a mixture of both pain and anger.
I stooped down, my face just inches from hers and caressed her soft cheek before I placed my lips firmly against hers, enveloping her mouth in a hard kiss.
Her brown eyes had been wide from the pain of the tattoo gun pressing on her flesh, but now they fluttered closed, and the buzz of the tool gradually faded from my hearing.
I wasn’t sure what I had imagined kissing those lips I’d thought about for the past 24 hours would feel like, but no matter how sappy it sounds, the moment we connected, I felt as though I was taking a breath for the first time since leaving the States. It was as if she was giving me CPR through her kiss, bringing me back to life. The feeling both scared me and excited me. I couldn’t get enough, and neither could she. Her mouth opened, accepting my tongue in a passionate plea to rid herself of the painful needles in her foot. One I was eager to help with.
So, when the artist’s voice spoke for a second time, it caught us both off guard from our spontaneous make out.
“I said I’m all done,” the artist announced, a big grin on his face as he looked up at us. Seated at her feet, he was wrapping her foot in plastic with gauze to protect it during the healing process.
“As for aftercare instructions, keep it covered for the next 24 hours without getting it wet. After the 24 hours are up, apply an ointment twice a day. Avoid scratching or picking at it. Oh, and no sexual activity for the next 24 hours.” He spoke.
Sasha’s eyebrows raised, turning to look at me with confusion on her face.
The artist threw his head back in laughter, almost falling off his chair as he clutched his ribs.
“He’s joking, Sasha,” I said, smiling down at her with a devilish grin. “But I’m happy to know we’re on the same page.”
Chapter 7: Sasha
