When a new customer entered his tattoo studio, Jonathan’s world was turned upside down. All he wanted was giving her a beautiful rose tattoo. Never did he imagine that she would steal his heart in return. But then he made his biggest mistake ever. Will she be able to forgive him?
“Where do you want your tattoo?”
“Left shoulder, right beside the other ones.”
“The other ones?”
She turned, tugged off her top, and showed me well tanned, softly rounded shoulders, slightly protruding shoulder blades, and on the left side, an assortment of tattooed roses. I cringed involuntarily. Luckily she didn’t notice.
There were about a dozen briar roses, none bigger than a dollar, most of them made by a professional, but one with little or no sense for placement. I could have tolerated that, as not all my colleagues are born artists. But there was one rose…shit. That wasn’t even a rose! That was a very poorly drawn unknown flower with five different sized petals. It stuck out like a sore thumb. Obviously, the crude work of an amateur. And a very untalented amateur, that is.
Well, it was her skin, not mine. I led her to the couch. For most work, my clients prefer to lie down. Also, it’s easier for me. Easier to make them stay still, without movements. Movements are bad, very bad, for my art.
While we walked the four or five steps, I couldn’t avert my eyes from looking at her now naked front side as well. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Relatively big breasts, as I said before, but well formed. Apple-sized. Big apples. They looked firm, the dark aureoles of her nipples resembling dark red rose petals. They seemed to dance with every step she made. Her fiancé was a lucky man, that was for sure.
I pulled the curtain I used as a kind of privacy shield for my female customers.
She lay down and made herself comfortable. Her face was turned to the wall, so all I could see was her lush auburn hair. Both arms conveniently by her sides, she looked relaxed and very much at ease in my studio.
“We didn’t discuss the exact placement of your rose.”
She gave the tiniest little shrug, as you can imagine. “Don’t worry. I know exactly the right spot. Next to the others, but nearer to my spine and a bit higher. And, by the way, I don’t need a single blossom. There should be seven of them. Seven of the same kind.”
That shocked me a little. “But, Miss, you said you are going to marry soon.”
“Yeah. So what?”
I felt sweat gather between my brows. “Your bridal dress—you wouldn’t by chance wear something high-necked?”
“Are you mad? With—what, up to eighty-five we can expect during June? No, of course not. I’ve got a nice low cut dress with spaghetti straps.” Her voice sounded whimsical now. “And with applications of white and red roses, of course.”
“Of course,” I echoed. “But, Miss, then everybody will see your tattoos.”
“That’s my intention, exactly!” She turned her head, so that I could see her smile. “I will show every single one of them. That’s why the new ones go near the spine. No chance for them to get covered by accident.”
I shrugged. Who am I to tell her to cover her tattoo? Any tattoo? Not me, not when I’m sprouting tattoos all over my body. Without further discussion, I started my work. My machine was ready, disinfected, and everything else, like always. When I started my explanations, she stopped me short.
“I know. Health and safety and yada, yada, yada… Skip that.”
I followed suit.