She starts to sit up, reaching for my face, but I push her back down with a hand on her shoulder. “Careful, the stencil ink hasn’t dried yet.”
“Great, then we might have time to wipe it off.”
“You want to change it?” I have flashbacks to my nightmare client, but I remind myself that this is her body and she can change whatever she wants.
“No. On you, dumbass.” She points to my face. “You’vegot some of the purple ink on your cheek. I was going to wipe it off for you before you slammed me back down on this chair.”
I look in the mirror behind me and confirm that I do indeed have ink on my face. “I didn’t slam you,” I defend myself as I wipe the ink off my face.
“Wasn’t hard enough if you ask me.”
I ignore her comment and slip back into professional mode. “You ready?”
"Yes. But damn, it's going to be hard not to laugh."
"What?"
"I've always thought getting tattoos kind of tickles. It's always difficult for me not to laugh. Now with this one being on my stomach...I wouldn't want to fuck up your work."
I'm trying to move past the part where she said ittickles."We'll work through it together. Once I get a better feel for the rhythm of your breathing, it'll get easier. I'll start with the parts that are harder to fuck up so we both have some time to get into it."
Why does everything we talk about sound so damn sexual?
"Sounds good to me."
I hover over her, trying to get into a comfortable position. "I'm going to be getting pretty up close and personal here. Let me know if you get uncomfortable, and I can try to find different positions to work in."
"You dowhateveryou need to do. I'm not shy."
"I've gathered that."
I lean over her torso and find a good place to rest my right elbow on the other side of her for balance. My other hand rests on her stomach to hold her skin taut.
"Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
I start with a few strokes of my machine across her skin, and she doesn't even flinch. I do a few more, and my hand moves with her stomach as she giggles.
"Sorry. I told you it tickles."
"Just try to breathe and focus on something else. Nice slow breaths so you don't move a lot."
"I know, I know."
I start working again, this time with minimal interruptions.
I’ve never been nervous to touch a client before, but I find myself acutely aware of how soft her skin is, the curve of her hips beneath me, and the way she’s filled out enough for her ribcage not to show. It makes me want to take a bite out of her, and the way I’m leaning in close has my lips within reach of her soft stomach.
Fuck, this is going to be a long session…
An hour goes by without me even noticing. The only reason I stop to check the time is because Arlo's client has shown up for her appointment.
B and I haven't been talking. I usually try to keep a conversation flowing with my clients to keep them distracted, but with the location of this piece, talking would only make things harder. Plus, B doesn't seem one bit fazed by the work.
"Do you need a break?"
She moves her phone to the side to look at me. "No, I'm good. But if you do, feel free to take one."
