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“Yes. The size is perfect too.”
“All right, I’ll print it and we can try out different placements,” I tell her, sending the design to the printer system. “Where would you like it?”
“On my rib, close to my heart.”
Oh, fuck me.
“Take your bra off,” I order so I can have better access.
Her mouth pops open, and it’s then that I realize how it could’ve been taken the wrong way. It’s her first tattoo, and she probably didn’t expect this part.
“I have to slide your shirt up to give me enough room to work with. I have to hold your skin to keep it taut for the needle. A bra is harder to slide up than a shirt is,” I explain, my voice threatening to drop with lust.
I’ve tattooed many women before. I need to get it together. The last thing I want is to make her uncomfortable. It’s with that in mind that I push the thoughts away and get ready.
She smiles, shrugging her shoulders. “Oh, okay, that makes sense.” Before I can move, she moves her hands under her cropped sweatshirt and flings her lacey black bra off.
“Done, what’s next?” She perks up, seemingly more excited now, but I can’t take my eyes off the nipple piercings I saw poking through the fabric of her top.
God help me.
I turn and get her design out of the printer, taking a moment to gather myself before I start.
“Lie on your right side,” I tell her, not looking over my shoulder as she gets situated.
Once I have the design cut out and ready, I sit on my chair and turn to face her. “Is it okay if I lift your sweater a bit more? I’ll put a paper towel there so I won’t see anything nor will the ink stain your clothes,” I ask, my throat growing tight.
“No problem,” she agrees, lifting her sweater up with one hand, a sliver of underboob showing.
I quickly avert my eyes and do my job, folding the paper towel under her sweater, careful not to touch her anywhere I shouldn’t. “I have to shave the area first,” I inform her, wanting her to be aware of every step.
She nods and stays still while I do that. Then I place the design on her skin, not exactly over her heart because the placement would be off, but to her side.
I grab the mirror off my station and position it so she can see. “Do you like the positioning? If not, I can wipe it off and print another one.”
Camille nods. “It’s perfect. I love it already.”
“Good,” is all I manage to say because every second near her is a test to my control.
I turn on my tattoo gun, the buzzing sound as relaxing as a wave in the ocean. I look at Camille, gun in hand, and that’s when I see the excitement brimming in her eyes, but also a tinge of fear.
“Hey,” I say softly, turning the gun off. “We don’t have to do this. You can come back when you’re ready.”
“No,” she says, her tone firm. “I’ll be okay. I want this, please.”
I learn in that moment that I would do anything this girl asked me, especially when she looks so pretty begging for it.
I turn the gun back on and set myself up, leaning my body over the side of hers to get the right angle. That’s when I’m hit with a waft of something sweet, almost like cotton candy. Why does it not surprise me that this girl also smells like the sweetness she exudes?
“This may hurt. Rib tattoos are no joke.”
“I can take it,” she replies confidently.
I press the needle into her skin at that moment, not giving my brain enough time to expand on her words. Camille winces, her eyes shutting tightly.
“Squeeze my forearm,” I order, nudging her with my arm that’s holding her skin and not tattooing her.
Her dainty fingers with nails painted purple wrap around my tattooed arm, squeezing tightly.
