“Hey, yourself. This drawing is beautiful. Did you do this?” She gestures to a charcoal drawing of a dragon perched on a mountain that I drew about five years ago.
“I did.”
She looks back at it and then at me again. “It’s absolutely beautiful. I wish I could draw.”
“Thanks. I’ve always loved to draw, even as a little kid,” I tell her. “You want to come on back?”
She nods and I lead her back to my work area and take the sketch of her artwork out of a big folder on my table.
“So how’s it looking and feeling?” I ask. “Everything okay?”
She beams. “I love it. It’s so pretty. I think I spent way too much time looking at it. It was sore for a few days and then got really itchy, just like you said, but I promise I didn’t touch it.”
I grin at her. “Awesome. Why don’t you go get changed, and I’ll get ready?”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
When she comes back, I have to smile at how different she looks wearing a faded t-shirt, black cotton shorts, and white socks, compared to the business outfit and high heels she had on a few minutes ago. She’s adorable.
“What?” she asks, noticing me eyeing her as she’s climbing onto the chair.
“I love how you went from looking all professional to cute in five minutes flat.”
Her cheeks redden at my words. “Well, thanks. I had to work late, so I didn’t have time to change first.”
I gently run my hand over the design on her outer thigh, visually mapping out what I want to do for this appointment. I should have put gloves on before I touched her, but I didn’t, because I wanted to feel her, and just as I imagined, her skin is soft and warm. A quick fantasy of me running my hands up her naked thighs flashes through my mind.
“You could have cancelled if you were having a bad day. I would have understood,” I say, reluctantly pulling my hand away from her porcelain skin.
“No, I wanted to come. I’ve been looking forward to this. Plus, my son is with his father for the weekend, and my daughter had plans tonight, so I would have just sat home in an empty house anyway.”
Leaning carefully over her body with the tattoo gun in my hand, I realize how bummed I would have been if she had cancelled. “I’m glad you came,” I admit, glancing up at her. She catches my gaze and then quickly looks away. Her shyness intrigues me even more. “So how have you been?” I ask her, hoping some conversation will help her relax a little. I can feel by how taught her body is that she’s wound up like a top.
“Good. Crazy busy at work, as always, but I like it because it makes the time go by and keeps my mind busy so I can’t dwell on things. “
“I like that, too. Things have been really busy here the past few weeks, and I love it. I’m never bored.”