Jack prologue
I saw her the first time ten years ago. Ben called me to the front of the shop for a customer. She was there with a friend looking at jewelry. It was easily discernible that she was no older than nineteen. Definitely a freshman out for her first bout of rebellion. Everything about her screamed 'too sweet', but still something about her stuck out. She wasn't overtly beautiful. Pretty, I'd definitely had done a double take if I passed her on the street, but definitely no pin up. It wasn't the half smile she had or the slightly husky voice she spoke with, though both were fucking sexy. It wasn't even that she literally looked like she'd just rolled out of bed, all ratty pj pants, tank top and her hair in a messy knot on top of her head. No, none of those things made her memorable, it was what I didn't see that I'd not forgotten in ten fucking years. Just looking at her, I could tell she had a devil-may-care attitude. She wasn't playing by anyone's rules except her own, and that was just fucking incredible.
"Can I help you ladies?" I said with my most professional grin. I had worked in this business long enough to know there had to be a professional distance. I rarely flirted with customers, though I knew even in that first instance I was about to blow that to shit.
"I'm looking to get my nose pierced," her friend answered. She was done up, normally the kind of girl I'd go for. A lot of make-up, a lot of hair product and a lot of tit. A whole lot of tit, but the dressed down brunette had me by the balls from the moment I'd laid eyes on her.
I frowned that it was a piercing, "Sorry girls, I'm strictly ink, but Ben here can help you with the bod mod."
"Actually, I'm here for ink." It took every ounce of willpower I had not to fist pump and shout out.
"Cool, what did you have in mind?"
She put a shirt on the counter and pointed to a design. "This. On the small of my back." I had to physically restrain my eye roll. "I want it in all black, though and a little bigger. It's got to cover a scar." Oh. Well. Damn. That made me feel like shit.
"What kind of scar? Not all scars take ink well."
"It's a thin pink scar. Not raised too much, not puffy. But, it's also not surgical. It pretty much spans the whole space." When she said the last part her voice was barely audible.
"Well, I'll take a look, sounds good though. Gimme a minute to bang this out on the stencil and we'll be good to go." She nodded and moved back to looking at nose rings.
Ten minutes later I had her prepped and stenciled. She was looking at the placement with her shirt shoved up into her bra and her pants sagging right to the crack of her ass. More than once I had to discreetly adjust myself.
"Looks good. So does it hurt?" She asked, putting the small mirror down and turning to face me.
I gave her my standard, movie quote answer, "It's better than getting bamboo chutes shoved up you nails."
She cocked her eyebrow and gave me a sardonic smile, "Thanks, Flea." My jaw dropped at the fact that she got the reference. My dick twitched again.
I couldn't help but smile, "What's you're name, sweetheart?"
"Anya. What's your name?"
"Jackson, but everyone just calls me Jack."
"Nice to meet you, Jack. So? Where do you want me?" With five words she caused a hundred lurid fantasies to flash through my mind. I was so fucking screwed. She cocked an eyebrow at me again. Oh. Yeah. She had asked me a question.
"Um. Yeah. Straddle the chair, lean forward a bit." Why did my voice sound like I'd gargled pea gravel?
"Is this good?" She had no fucking clue.
"Yeah. Music?"
"Sure."
"Preference?"
"Not really. I listen to anything." Right. I decided to not scare her too much so I decided to play some old school Anthrax. She shocked the hell out of me by singing along to 'Indians'. That was interesting.
"Ok we're gonna start with the outlining. This is the worst part. This piece won't take long, but if you need a minute just lemme know. Straight?" She gave me another sardonic grin.
"I'm pretty sure I can handle it." She was either really stupid or incredibly sexy.
I got to work on the outline. There was the minutest of flinches when the needle touched, but then she relaxed totally. The ink was taking like a dream on her soft white skin. The contrast to the black ink was striking.
"This is gonna be hot."
"Yeah? I never really wanted a tramp stamp, but I'm sick of that fuck...um, damn scar." I could see the color rise on her neck. Damn she was fucking too sweet.
"Sweetie, you're in a tattoo parlor. You don't have to watch your language."
"Yeah. It's just something I'm working on. For me. I have a rather extensive vocabulary. I need to try to use it, huh?" I smiled at her back. She was smart and sexy.
"So you gotta thing for Bettie Page?" She was looking at the classic Bettie pin up in front of her. What the hell? She knew Anthrax and Bettie Page. Fuck I needed to get done and get her the fuck out of my chair.
"Yeah. She's kinda my ultimate. Ya know good girl gone bad and shit?" She let out a squeaky little giggle. Not a flirty one, that was her real fucking giggle. It was the cutest damn thing. Damn, I wanted to take my gloves off and feel her skin. I had to stop to adjust myself...again.
"You get off on corrupting good girls?" I definitely wanted to corrupt her. Or get off on her, either way, it would end with my dick in some orifice of hers.
"Something like that." I hadn't noticed until that moment the impossibly small grinding movements she was making in the chair. Her skin was also flushed, blotchy pink in places. It could have been pain, but the way her breathing would kick up ever so slightly when she moved told me it was the opposite if pain she felt. As if I wasn't hard enough, I had a perky bodied, college freshman getting all aroused in my chair. Fuck.
"You still good?" I needed to get my mind off of laying her out on the table and having her for lunch.
"Yeah," her voice was thick. Oh damn.
I finished the outline after adjusting myself no less than six times.
"Still with me, sweetheart?"
"Mmhmmm."
"You need a minute?"
"Uh-uh." She was so damn cute and somehow fucking sexy as hell at the same time.
"Ok. This part's a lot easier. You're doin' great. This is gonna look fucking hot."
"You said that already," she chuckled. I started filling in the tat. She started the light rocking again. I wondered if I gave her enough time could she finish? I could picture her coming apart in my chair. Her smooth flushed skin, her husky little voice whimpering. Fuck, I could smell her arousal. I had to adjust again.
"So, Anya? That's an unusual name." Anything to stop my wayward thinking.
"It's Russian. My great grandparents are from there."
"Oh that's cool. We're just about done." I finished the rest of the piece and cleaned her up.
"Damn, girl. That's tight. Wanna see it before I wrap it up?" She stood and nodded. She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back making those perky tits raise up even higher. They weren't small, a good hand full, maybe more. She shuffled to the mirror and turned to look at her tat. She was doing that half turn girls do when their checking out their own asses. Hers was definitely nice. Not too big, but pronounced.
"Nice," she smiled. Unknowingly stealing my thoughts about her cute little ass.
"So? The rules. Keep it clean. Regular soap and water. Keep A&D on it until it heals. It'll flake and itch. Don't scratch. No immersion in water until its healed. After that no fragrance lotion."
"Got it."
"Yes you do," I flashed her the smile that usually makes the panties drop. She furrowed her cute little brow and pursed her pink lips.
"Right." She bit her bottom lip with tiny teeth. I almost moaned out loud. Jesus, I was going to either have to jerk off in my car or have blue balls for two months.
I started wrapping her new ink. "Leave this on at least two hours, you'll notice it leaks, but that's normal. Follow me up front and we'll get you checked out." I don't think she noticed the little frown I gave when I said it. I wished I could keep her longer, but I couldn't come up with one reason to get her to stay. She paid, tipped better than most and left.
Yeah, that was ten years ago, so imagine my surprise when she walked into my shop two hundred miles away from where we first met.
Anya 1
I love the smell and feel of a tattoo parlor. It's all antiseptic and clean, but then it's artsy and unique. I'm not covered by any means. I only have five tattoos. They're all single pieces. I have my tongue pierced, but that's as far as I took bod mod. I'd have more ink if I didn't have a job that required me to keep it covered.
My best friend mentioned a new parlor had opened and he needed a job. I told him I'd wait for him while he interviewed. They'd been impressed with his portfolio, his references were stellar and his phone interview went well, so he pretty much had it in the bag.
"So these guys are from, where?" I asked.
"Nashville." I'd gone to school just outside of Nashville. I didn't know why anyone would consciously move to Memphis to open a tattoo parlor. Don't get me wrong, I loved my hometown, but businesses failed easily here.
The shop was cool. Kind of minimalist, but it was new. One thing in particular caught my eye, a pin up poster of Bettie Page. It was a drawing of her in the traditional pin-up pose, wearing bondage gear.
"What is it with tattoo artists and Bettie Page?" I asked.
"What she's hot. She's the ultimate pin-up girl."
"Yeah, yeah good girl gone bad and all," I smiled. I hadn't thought about him in a while. The artist who did my first three tats was the epitome of all of my bad boy fantasies. In school I'd wanted him so much, but who was I? I was just some silly girl that tipped well, so I kept him in the fun fantasy box. He'd had a thing for Bettie.
"Hey can I help y'all?" The guy behind the counter asked. He had messy hair and an overgrown goatee with a labret spike sticking out.
"Hi, yeah I'm Kyle. We spoke on the phone."
"Oh yeah. Hey, I'm Ben." He walked around the counter to us. He extended his hand to Kyle. "Nice to meet you. Nice hawk."
"Thanks, man. This is my best friend Anya. She's actually responsible for the hair." Ben turned to me and shook my hand. There was something familiar about him, I just couldn't place him.
