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The sound of Eve laughing is so loud, it penetrates through my door, reaching my ears and sending me over the edge. I paint the wood with my cum as her tinkling laughter settles into my bones.
My head.
My fucking soul.
I groan, my body shuddering with the force of my orgasm. It takes me far too long to pull myself together and clean up my mess, but only seconds for regret and disgust to settle in.
What the fuck have I done?
Vibration shoots through my hand, up my wrist and into my arm as I drag the needle back and forth, shading the tattoo as my client, Iris, a girl in her early twenties, pretends it doesn’t hurt. The bright fluorescent lights reflect off the ink as I wipe a paper towel on her skin, smearing the black.
“You need a real job,” my boss, Kon, grumbles from across the room. My eyes flit toward his station, finding Chase lounging in his tattoo chair. “And get the fuck off my chair. I have a client coming.”
“Not for another half hour,” Chase says dismissively. He continues scrolling on his phone, and I look back at the tattoo I’m finishing up, refusing to get involved in another one of their pointless arguments. “Anyway, I have a job.”
“Influencing isn't a job,” Kon growls. “You’re basically a con-man.”
“Why do you care so much?” Chase asks, setting his phone down, blatantly goading the giant Russian. I shake my head, scowling at their bickering as I lean back.
“All done,” I say, my voice hoarse from disuse, and tap Iris’s leg. She lets out a long breath. “You took it like a champ.” Chase snickers from his seat, and I shoot the back of his head a glare. Asshole. “Take a look.”
She gives me a wary smile as she slides from the chair. I roll my gloves off, tossing them in the little metal bin beside my workspace. She walks to the mirror and turns, her eyes lighting up when she sees the finished piece.
It’s a bouquet of flowers blooming on her thigh, and the sight of the sunflower standing out amongst the others shoots a pang through my heart.
It reminds me of her.
Everything reminds me of her.
I shift my shoulders, making my shirt readjust across my back, and let out a harsh breath.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathes, turning back toward me.
This is my favorite part of the job. Seeing a client happy, seeing their face light up, or their eyes getting teary when they see the art I’ve permanently inked onto their skin. It makes everything worth it.
Chase and Kon continue to bicker in his booth across from mine, but I tune them out as I smile tightly at my client.
“Honestly, Roman. It’s the best piece I’ve ever gotten.”
I snort and fold my arms over my chest, leaning back on my stool. “That’s your third piece and they’re all from me,” I say, tilting my head toward her.
“Yeah, but it’s still my favorite.” Her lips tip in a teasing grin, and I shake my head.
“Get out of the chair!” Kon’s voice booms through the shop. Iris jolts at the sound, and my smile falls.
“You need anything else?” I ask her as I stand. She shakes her head as she flips through her wallet, pulling out a few hundreds and shoving them at me. “Thanks.”
This is the part I hate.
I hate that people have to pay for art to be a part of their body, but I can’t give away tattoos for free. I need to survive, but I hate taking their money. I just want to do what a love, and what I love—
A hard breath whooshes out of me.
As Iris leaves, she wisely decides not to look in on Kon and Chase. I, not so wisely, decide to play referee. As always.
I lean against the frame and fold my arms over my chest as I watch Kon tower above my best friend, glaring down at him like his wrath alone will smite him. Like glaring at him will scare Chase enough to move—or do literally anything. Fat fucking chance.
“I’m comfy,” Chase whines, scooting further down in the chair. Kon’s broad chest slowly expands as he takes a deep breath. His face doesn’t soften. If anything, the deep breath only makes him more agitated.
