“Easier said than done when you’re married.”
“Well, it sounds like he won’t be inflicting his opinions on you anymore, so now you can spread your wings. Just like this little butterfly right here . . .” He taps my leg, and I follow his gaze to see the beautiful little butterfly he’s etched onto me forever.
“It’s beautiful,” I exclaim. “It looks so real. How do you do that?”
“See? That was supposed to be a bird, but I fucked it up and now it’s a butterfly.”
My mouth falls open until I see the playful grin spread across his lips. “I’m kidding,” he says. “I just wanted to see your face. And it was pretty funny.”
“Not funny,” I reply, laughing.
I lay there for two hours while he works, but it feels like an eternity. We talk a little and then fall into a comfortable silence, just listening to the music while I try not to think about the burning, digging feeling. Finally, he backs away and announces that it’s a good place to stop until my next appointment.
Sitting up and stretching out, I look down at my leg and notice its very red and angry looking around the artwork, but the design itself is beautiful. The vines, flowers, and butterflies look so realistic, almost 3D. I have no idea how he can make something look so realistic and pretty with that tattoo gun.
“You like?” he asks, gently laying a large white bandage over it and taping it to me.
“I love it. I can’t wait to see it finished.”
“Soon enough.” He winks at me and stands up. “You feel all right to walk around?”
I swing my legs off the chair and stretch out a bit more. “Yup.”
“You have awesome pale skin, my favorite type to work with. The ink always looks so vivid on it.”
“Um, thanks . . . I think,” I answer, blinking up at him.
“Yes, it’s a compliment. . . . you’re beautiful.”
Is he flirting with me? No, he’s just being nice and polite. He hands me my jeans and shoes, a sweet gesture that feels oddly intimate. “You can go change while I clean up, then we can book your next appointment if you still want to?”
“Definitely. I’m not backing out now. I need to see this beautiful creation of yours finished.”
He gives me a grateful smile. “Good girl, I’m lookin’ forward to it, too.”
I head to the bathroom to get dressed and fix up my hair a little while I’m there, because I look like I just woke up. Glancing at my watch, I realize it’s nine-thirty already. I’ve been here for almost three hours. Shoving my shorts in my bag, I join him up front, my leg sore as I walk.