I Love The Ink I Love You

This is a sweet little romance of two independent business owners that don't believe in Valentine's Day, but they do find their way toward each other with Cupid's help. I hope you like and vote for my story in the Valentine's Day contest! xo

I Love The Ink - I Love You

"Unknown caller, ugh." I had to answer because I had a business, but I was right in the middle of baking an order.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Kendly?"

"It is," I replied, adjusting my lunch lady hairnet that got tangled in the phone.

"My mom ordered your cherry babka and it's delicious. I'd like to order four dozen... Wait, what else do you make?"

"Cookies and a variety of other things, but I have to ask, are you going to sell them?"

"Possibly."

"You can't. I mean I can't sell you anything for resale. I'm a cottage business and the state has very specific guidelines. I can only sell directly."

"Oh darn. Okay well, would you be interested in a little business promotion then?"

"That depends," I said, suspicious.

He laughed. "I know that sounds creepy, but it's on the up and up. Can you meet me at the coffee shop in The District sometime today?"

I looked around taking in the mess on every surface of my kitchen. Everything was baked or raising. "Sure, I could do that." It's safe there and very public, I thought. What could go wrong?

As I walked in the door, he stood up and extended his hand. "I'm Neil. I'm so glad you could come. I'll get you a coffee."

That gave me a chance to check him out. He was probably ten years older than my thirty. Greying handsomely as most men do, with killer blue eyes, and a warm smile. Well, that last bit makes him perfectly safe, I thought to myself with an inward eye roll.

I took a sip of coffee before saying, "Your phone call was intriguing. I hope you understand my situation and cottage laws. The state is very strict about what we can and can't do."

"Absolutely! I looked it up because I hadn't heard of it. It's quite an opportunity for home bakers and cooks." He took a moment to gaze at my flame of long red curly hair. No controlling, it floated around my head like a fiery aura.

"What is it you wanted my products for?" I asked.

"I don't know if you've heard about the bridal show coming up. Right before Valentine's Day." When I shook my head, he went on. "It's an annual thing that few of us over twenty-five know about." He laughed. "It's an offbeat event. Any bride that is goth, or wants to go over the top sexy, kinky, or just generally out of the bridal mainstream."

"No, I haven't heard of it. Sounds pretty interesting." My imagination was already cranking up. I placed my forearms on the table, clasped my hands, and said, "Please, tell me more."

As he explained, he owned a chocolate shop downtown and had promoted his chocolates there for the last few years. It was a profitable venture for him and he hadn't thought to add anyone until he tasted my babka. My specialty is a variety of flavors, but I did bake other items. They were products he thought were complementary, not competitive. I agreed.

We discussed it at length, through two more cups of coffee and a couple of buffalo chicken wraps because it was nudging dinner time.

We shook hands and I said, "I'm looking forward to this. Thank you for contacting me. That's what I'd like to do- offer samples and take orders as well as hand out my cards just to get the word out."

"You could always turn commercial if all your stars align!" Neil said. "Or you can take on what you can do. I realize it could be quite difficult since you work full time."

I was a numbers cruncher in a no-window office all day with little connection with other employees. My cottage baking business was an outlet, just as much for my mental health because it allowed for so much creativity.

I called my sister on the way home.

"Whatcha doing sis," Jacqui singsonged.

"I need help. Help!"

"What? I'm the sistah for the job. Whatever it may be."

"I need a wedding dress! In black. Sexy." I waited for her reply to that one.

"Okay, sure. Any specifics?"

"That's all you have to say?" I asked, astonished.

"Yeah, Because I know you're BSing me big time," she laughed.

"Not! You can't tell mom or anyone about this," I said conspiratorially and went on to share the whole story.

"I got you! I'll come up with the perfect dress for you. Kinky sexy offbeat. Yes! So you." She laughed and disconnected.

***

On the day of the event, Neil picked up the baked goods and transported them all to the venue. He was setting it up and all I needed to do was show up.

Jacqui brought the dress to my condo. The black satin was luxurious, and I couldn't wait to try it on.

"Take your bra off."

"Huh?"

"You can't wear a bra with this dress," she stated, and I began to have qualms already.

I stepped into it. I looked down and the neckline was low. Very low. Uncomfortably low for someone with thirty-eight Ds that only showed them in the summer. At the pool. In a one-piece swimsuit. Under a coverup.

"Geez, Jacqui."

"Hold still. I have to secure the bustier before I can zip the dress." She nearly knocked me off my feet doing that, then I heard the final zip.

I looked down to see my milky white globes overflowing, perched on a shelf, popping out, fleeing their confines. I was afraid to take a breath for fear they would reveal themselves to the world.

"Whoa," was all I could say. She turned me towards the full-length mirror. "Whoa," was all I could say.

The dress was beautiful and I looked so different that I hardly recognized myself. I dressed conservatively for work. Low cut and short just weren't in my wardrobe. My off time was casual, but still not much skin.

"Wait'll we get your makeup on. Jewelry and shoes too!" she said excitedly. I didn't know if I could stand anymore or not.

"Phew, if it weren't for the hair, I almost wouldn't have recognized you. You make one awesomely kinky sexy bride my dear." He let a low whistle between his teeth. No one noticed because everyone was in the finishing stages of setting up their booths.

"Thank you," I said, spinning for effect. The skirt length in the front was not quite midway up my thighs. Gathers began at my sides around the back to create a bustle and train to the floor in the same shimmering black satin. My sister made a black rose for my hair that was attached to the short black veil. Black stilettos accented the curves of my legs.

"I'd be a little nervous about that," he said, grinning and pointing at the large cross necklace with a silver dagger that pointed down and nestled between my mounded breasts. "That looks dangerous."

I giggled and said, "That's what I told my sister but she assured me it was perfectly safe." He threw his head back and laughed. "You by the way are quite handsome in that black brocade tailcoat."

"Why thank you, ma'am." He was very good-looking with his silvery blue eyes and glints of silver in his hair that sparkled under the lights.

We talked about the booth setup. He had experience and it showed. My baked goods were set off beautifully. We took our places as people began to filter through the booths. Neil had a more outgoing personality compared to my more introverted self, which worked out well because he moved them into the booth and I chatted our products up.

We each grabbed a quick lunch individually. While he was gone, I noticed a black leather heavily inked man wandering through the booths. Black leather pants, vest, and cap were rather incongruous, even amongst this diverse crowd. More than a few stopped him to talk, which caught my curiosity. I admired the creativity of the soon-to-be brides that I'd talked with and hoped I'd be that individualistic when it came time for my own wedding.

The black leather man stopped in front of our booth and sampled the chocolate and baked goods. He pocketed both of our business cards. He began to walk away but glanced up and stopped when he saw me.

He strode into the booth, and although he was a big man and a good six inches taller than me in these ridiculously high stilettos, he wasn't as menacing as when I first noticed him.

For reasons unknown, my eyes zeroed in on the silvery grey tufts of curls that peeked above his pristinely white t-shirt.

"Do you have ink?"

I tore my eyes away from his chest and squinted at him in confusion. "Do I what?" Trying to think of a baked good that he might be asking about.

"Tattoos. Do you have any tattoos?" He trailed his fingers down my arm. He did it in such a way that wasn't sexual or offensive. "Your skin is like a canvas. I'm wondering if anyone has touched it."

I looked up into aquamarine eyes that were rimmed with absurdly thick black lashes. I blinked trying to remember what I was saying. Or what he was saying.

Ink. Tattoo. My jumbled mind was attempting to help me make a coherent sentence. "Oh. No. No ink." Ludicrously I looked at my arm. The same arm he touched.

"For a redhead, you amazingly have no freckles. Or do you?" he smiled, amusement in those eyes. I blinked and wished he wouldn't do that.

"Uh no, no freckles. Anywhere."

Duh Kendly, you sound like a moron for god's sake.

He grinned again. "Would you like ink? I'm a tattoo artist. Rather well known and amazingly talented."

Finally regaining some composure I said, "Well, since you put it that way... Can I have a moment to think about it?" I laughed.

"Take all the time you need as long as you say yes to me," he said, his voice low and deep.

I searched his face looking for a reason to say no. Thirty minutes ago I would have been horrified to even consider a tattoo. Even a tiny one. Every brain cell told me he was thinking of a tattoo of majestic proportions. He reached inside his leather vest and pulled out a card.

"Here's this, but I'll be contacting you first," he said confidently before turning and striding away.

The rest of the day was a blur. I took more orders than I ever thought I would. Many small orders for Valentine's Day. It turned out that most people that had these offbeat weddings also did not have large numbers that would be attending so I was able to commit to many weddings. We packed up the booth and Neil stored it in his company van. It was all his anyhow because we had no samples left. We parted in the parking lot.

"I hope it was worth your while. Everyone loved you, you know. They raved about your baked goods. You could easily turn it into a commercial business."

"Thank you for inviting me. I answered lots of questions, passed out what seemed like a hundred business cards, and took almost fifty orders between Valentine's and weddings." He whistled through his teeth. "Yes, I'm very happy."

"If you want to talk business, or just want to talk," he smiled. "We can go out one night and toss some ideas around."

I got that it was his way of asking for a date, and although he was drop-dead handsome, I didn't feel it. "Thanks! I'll let you know." I shook his hand again and headed for my car.

I wasn't really surprised to see leather man leaning against the side of my car.

"How did you know which one was mine?" I asked, hitting the remote to unlock the doors.

He looked around and waved. "Power of deduction. I knew you weren't driving the big chocolate van."

I laughed. "You were right."

"So did you discuss it with him?" he asked.

"Ask him what?"

"If he'd be okay with you changing your body in ways that would be with your forever."

His booted feet were crossed at the ankle and relaxed he had a hand wrapped around the other wrist. Which brought my attention to the bulge under the leather.

"I uhm," I tore my eyes away from his package bulge and immediately got lost in those damn silver eyes. "Oh. Neil. He's just a friend. Acquaintance really."

"So, he has no say in what you or he or I do with your body?" I blinked and he laughed.

"Uh, no. Just me decides that."

"I already know what I'd do. Would you like to hear about it?"

To my amazement, I immediately nodded and he began. It would be a large piece. A lot larger than I imagined. It would take a considerable amount of time. Surprisingly it would be hidden in my everyday wear. He did actually envision my body as a canvas and not as a billboard for his work.

I opened the door, slipped the stilettos off, and swung my legs into the car. He smiled. And waited. I started the car, clicked my seatbelt, and put the window down.

"Okay." I simply said and drove off.

I struggled to get my dress unzipped and the bustier off without the help of my sister. I stripped off my thong and unpinned the headpiece from my hair. I walked over and looked in the mirror.

"You're still the same Kenny girl," I muttered to myself. "Why do you feel like you left normal and came home another person?"

I looked at my body in the mirror. Envisioning what he was going to do to me. Because it wouldn't be seen, I had already decided to keep this to myself. Myself the new me. The wild me. And dammit, it felt good.

I waited a week to call him.

"Bodie?"

"Kendly. I thought you might have changed your mind."

"No, not at all. I had some orders to get out this week."

"Do you know where my studio is located?"

"Yes, the address is on your card and I'm familiar with the neighborhood."

"What's the soonest you can be here?"

"Tomorrow."

"Fine. Get here as early as you can."

Click.

A man of few words. I liked that.

His studio was in an old established neighborhood of town where many of the elite lived until they started to build mansions outside of town. I pulled up in front of a stately old home with a huge front porch and portico. A balcony stretched across the front second floor. It was red brick trimmed in milk white as were the six pillars that marched across the front supporting the porch roof. A small sign in the front yard simply said, Bodie.

The door swung open as I mounted the steps. His big body filled the doorway. The white t-shirt was tucked into well-worn snug fitting blue jeans. With no leather hat, I could see his black and silver hair was a mass of curls, not unlike mine if I kept my hair short.

"I wondered if you'd show," he said stepping aside so I could enter.

"I'm true to my word."

From my vantage, the house was still broken up into typical rooms, but it appeared other artists worked in other rooms. It seemed today though, it was just us.

As though reading my mind he said, "It'll only be you and I during our appointments. I value my client's privacy."

"Thank you," I nodded.

He showed me where and how I would be on the narrow vinyl bed. He opened a cabinet and pulled out several white sheets, unfolded one, and turned to hand it to me.

"Oh," he said, obviously surprised when he saw that I had taken my clothes off. "You can use these to cover areas I'm not working on."

I was beyond surprising myself. I don't know where this newfound freedom came from, but I loved it. I reveled in it. "Okay, thanks. I thought it would be easier if there were no clothes to hinder your work."

"Well yeah, you're right. But most women aren't comfortable with being nude. I'm pleased you are because it will make my job much easier."

He led me to a full-length mirror and showed me approximately where the tattoo would be on my body. It started below my hip, up my side to my breast. It wrapped a bit on the front of my body, and a bit on the back. He sat down and filled a small container with black and set new needles out that were still sealed. I looked at the colored drawing he had done, all in dark pastels of blues, fuschias, green, and yellows. It was a large angel wing with ghost images embedded in it. Very mystical. I couldn't think of another thing I'd prefer.

"I'm ready when you are," I said reclining on the bed. "Position me as needed." One thing that made me most comfortable was that even though I was nude, he never once ogled me or gave me an up-and-down look.

He smiled. "I have to admit, I never thought you'd be as enthused as you are. You struck me as being a bit more conventional."

I shrugged. "I don't know myself. I am a numbers cruncher and work in an office where we're confined to our cubicles. We all wear suits. I'll tell you a secret... I had to go out and buy shorts to wear here. My clothing is so old. I didn't realize until this morning." I sighed, wondering how I became so old. Not in years, but in attitude.

He stretched on latex gloves and began to position the transfer paper at my hip. His concentration was acute making sure everything was in alignment. The tip of the wing covered the side of my breast and touched my nipple. He had to reposition several times before he was happy.

"Okay," he said, pulling a tray on wheels over that held the ink and other unknown to me supplies. "I'll get it all outlined first. Much of it you won't feel. There are places that I'll be tattooing that you will feel. Mostly areas where the bone is closer to the surface. Possibly your hipbone and ribs. Some feel it, others don't. If at any time you want me to stop, just say it. Don't try to be brave. If you need a break, let me know that too. No problem."

I watched him and his businesslike demeanor as he went through it all. It was such an exciting experience for me. The new me. I couldn't imagine stopping him.

"Got it!"

He had various shaped vinyl pillows that he placed under and around my body, mostly for my comfort. I barely heard the quiet whirr and jumped when the needle touched my skin.

"You okay?"

"Yes! I'm fine! I was surprised. I thought it would be noisier."

His concentration was fierce as he traced the outline with black ink. His hands were warm through the latex gloves. He was right, certain areas tingled more, but nothing I couldn't handle. He was working on my ribs and I didn't feel a thing. I wondered if that meant I had too much fat on my ribs, I thought giggling to myself.

"I bet you never thought it would be this boring," he chuckled.

"I'm fascinated. Love it!"

He looked up at me and smiled. "I'm so glad you're doing well."

I admit I was wondering how he would do it when he got to my thirty-eight D. He did have to take it in hand as he tattooed with the other. He manipulated my breast as he worked. I could feel it but not see it because I had to lay back. I could watch him while he did it though.

"I bet you've seen one tit you've seen them all," I laughed. "Do you pierce as well?"

"I do."

"Hmm," I said, considering.

"And no, everyone is different. Special. You're very special. Your skin is so white. Unmarked. Unmarred by scars, freckles, or moles. So rare. You are like a blank canvas."

He sat straight and stretched his back. He pushed the tray away, cleaned up the trash, and stood up.

I started to move and groaned. "I may need help. I feel like an old lady."

He laughed and held out his hand. "Everyone gets stiff after being in one position for so long."

I walked over to the mirror and was disappointed to see a series of fine black lines and various shades of pink skin surrounding.

"I thought it might hurt now," I said.

"Some do experience discomfort, some don't." He stood behind me in the mirror. His big body fills the mirror making me look petite. Which I wasn't by any means. While he was looking at his handiwork on my body, I was checking out his. The soft denim caressed his package like a hand. "I'm going up for some lunch. You're welcome to join me. You can decide if you're up for more ink after we eat. I'm free this afternoon."

He carefully wiped something over my skin so I could slip my shorts and t-shirt on. I didn't bother with panties or a bra, which was a somewhat delicious feeling because I never went braless. Not with my big melons. But I loved the sensation of the fabric rubbing my nipples into hard nubs. They poked through the thin white knit lewdly, and I loved that. I was beginning to not recognize myself at all.