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She takes my hand, and whispers in my ear, though not so quietly that the woman at the counter doesn’t
hear. I know she wants her to hear every word. That’s the exhibitionist in her being totally indiscreet. “Do it for me,” she says, “my tongue will have a jolly time playing with it.” I blush, glancing toward the clerk.
The woman at the counter smiles at me, not surprised by what she hears.
I pull Peach aside. “I can’t do this, not here.” Gazing around the room, it suddenly feels like some spooky dungeon, and I’ve just been asked to sacrifice myself. It’s too close, too close to a sordid past. I can’t let her insist on this.
“Here? What’s wrong with here?” Peach asks. “You saw them do my tattoo, it’s a perfectly respectable place.”
“It only takes a few seconds, much quicker and easier than a tattoo,” the woman at the counter interjects.
I didn’t want to hear that. Of course, it would take less time. They probably use one of those quick piercing guns.
“C’mon. Stop being such a spoil sport, Cassidy,” she says firmly. “It arouses you, don’t you dare deny it.” She looks meaningfully toward my cunt, her expression lascivious. “I can feel you, you know. You’re turned on. You’ll have to tell this body of yours to quit giving you away.” I’m scared even more now, since I know she’s in a mood that is never dissuaded by any protest I make. She’s utterly ruthless with her will at such times. And I cannot, for all my terror, deny her anything she wants this much.
“C’mon,” she says, taking me by the hand. Again, we follow the woman around the counter to the room behind the long velvet drape. I scrutinize things even more carefully this time, seeing the clean table, the simple instruments, a welcome bottle of disinfectant. There’s no piercing gun but a very nasty looking needle.
“You really want this?” I ask.
“Yes,” Peach says with a terrific smile on her face. “And you do too,” she assures me, “I’ll wait for you outside.”
“What? You’re staying. I stayed all through that tattoo.”
“No, I’m not staying. I want to be surprised when I find it tonight,” she tells me. How can she think of sex at a moment like this? The woman listens as transfixed by Peach as I am. My lover’s sense of drama is acute.
“But show me where,” the woman tells her, realizing that Peach is in control of this adventure.
I lay back on the table and pull up my skirt. My nakedness embarrasses me in front of the woman, though it doesn’t seem to bother her. No doubt she’s seen other naked cunts like mine.
“There,” Peach says taking a pinch of my outer labia in her fingers. She wiggles it a little, giving the woman a good look at where the ring will be. In spite of everything else going on with me, her touching me there is arousing. I wish she would stay, but once the woman nods, the spot clearly pinpointed, Peach walks away, and I’m alone with a stranger.
At least she’s gentle and quick, as she promised.
Minutes later I’m on the street again, at Peach’s side, walking arm and arm with a ring now piercing my cunt.
“Can you feel it?” she asks.
“A little.”
“I bet you’re wet,” she says. “Tell me what it felt like when she did it.”
“Erotic? Is that what you want me to say?”
“Was it erotic? I want to know.”
For the first time I smile, because she’s so right. My sexual energy is sky high and I want to dive into her flesh. She’s right about the statement this makes. It’s as much for me as anyone else. Like a talisman of great portent, it affirms what I say about myself and my life. It’s so completely fitting to mark myself this way, I’m surprised that I haven’t thought about it more than I have. I’m surprised that I haven’t done it before now.
It’s all the more reason to suspect that bringing Peach into my bed was a stroke of genius; for what I’m unable to implement myself, she joyously creates for me. How could I have suspected that she’d have this effect on me? If I had, I might not have pursued her. This has to be one of those profound bondings, spirit to spirit, one of those soul level things that are handled by a benevolent deity that knows what I need better than I do myself.
Happily, I chose to forget about the other woman: the other side of me that long ago traipsed about my life leaning to the dark sides of sex. The shop, the ring, the piercing all remind me of that for an instant; and it’s strangely liberating that I can have done this simple thing, and not felt the past suddenly chasing after me as it always has before. Perhaps this is a double triumph.
The day takes a lewd turn, as my impulses take charge of me. I can tell because I’m looking for some place where Peach and I can hide together and not be seen, while we get each other off. I know that we won’t survive this frenzied sexual heat all the way home. This time I take the lead, and we duck between two old buildings, into an alley that seems dark, even though the sun is still high in the sky. The shadows protect us as we find the perfect spot, where a sheltered stairwell appears behind the building as if it were calling to us. It’s cool sitting here on the steps, and deserted enough so we can play in peace.
Peach likes taking chances like this. I like taking chances when I’m as aroused as I am now.
She reaches to the hem of my skirt and I feel her hand explore until her fingers are at my cunt door and poking through.
“How does the ring feel to you?” I whisper to her.
