Page 50 of Born to be Wilder

“Well, I’m the captain, so I guess I should lead by example. I’ll go first.” My heart fluttered inside my chest, and I started to lose my nerve. But then I remembered I was letting go of all this fear I had lived with for so long and was starting this new me with a tattoo.

“Where do you want it?” he asked.

I froze. I thought of the ladies at my church group. Of my priest. Of my children. It was one thing to get a tattoo for myself, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to announce my newfound outlook to the world and explain it repeatedly. If I got it on my arm, I’d have to wear long sleeves until I died. On my ankle, I would have to wear socks even with my long skirts. But then I realized—there was one place no one but Axel would ever see.

“My hiney,” I said.

The widows went silent. Rip choked on his sip of coffee.

“Your hiney, Doris?” Marge roared with laughter. “You’re getting an ass tat?”

“Yes! On my right cheek. It’s private! It’s for me and God and Axel. No one else will see it.”

Alice smirked. “Well, you and God and Axel and whoever is changing your diapers in twenty years!”

Rip roared with laughter. “Alright, Captain. Pull ’em down, keep the underwear on, pull it to the side, and kneel on the chair.”

I mustered up all the courage I had and walked to the chair, scootching down my slacks and pulling my floral-print panties aside so my cheek was exposed.

Maybe don’t watch this part, okay, God?

I gripped the back of the chair like a tiger holding its prey as Rip started to mark me. A scream ripped out of me as his needle dug into my skin, but when he asked if he should stop, I bit my lip, swallowed my tears, and shook my head.

“No. I can take it. Keep going.”

The widows cheered me on, holding my hands as I pushed through the pain.

“Almost done,” Rip finally said as I bit my lip so hard I almost cried out from that pain instead.

“You’re a machine!” Marge went nose to nose with me. “A bona fide warrior, Doris! Hold on, soldier! Hold on!”

“I can’t do this. I’m going to faint just watching.” Sylvie covered her eyes.

“Finished!” Rip stepped back, and I took my first true breath since the pain had started.

The widows all walked behind me, and heat rushed to my face as I glanced over my shoulder to see them all staring at my behind.

“Doris, you have a surprisingly toned tush.” Alice gave my hiney an appreciative nod. “And this tattoo looks… well, wonderful. Well done, Rip.”

He beamed.

“Honestly. It is really so much better than I thought.” Sylvie pursed her lips, nodding.

“Yeah? It looks good?”

I blushed deeper, wondering what Axel would think when he saw it. I hoped he would appreciate my new artwork.

Rip held up a mirror, and my eyes bulged as I saw my derriere staring back at me with the Wilder Widows crest stamped on it.

I gasped, covering my mouth. “Oh my. It’s… it’s a tattoo! A real one! On my hiney!”

“And?” Rip asked, and everyone held one collective breath.

Finally, I whispered, “I love it.” Then my voice rose. “I love it! Oh, it’s perfect, Rip! Perfect!”

Marge just grinned and gave me two huge thumbs-up, then shouted, “I’m next!”

I hopped off the chair, wincing from the discomfort that felt like a sunburn, and Marge pulled down her pants and jumped in the chair next.