Tales of Haze 03: Butterfly Bimbo

A sample from a larger Haze work I wrote. Hope you enjoy it!

.o0o.

Words and swirls and skulls and stranger things stared at Julia Spence through the thin glass of the window. She bit her lip uncertainly, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. Was she really ready to do this? Was this really what she wanted?

Julia leaned her forehead against the cool glass, uncertain. She'd moved to Haze not so long ago, the city bordering the sea and renowned for the mists which shrouded the waterfront and town during autumn and winter. A lot of people passed through the city, but Julia wasn't one of them. She'd taken an apartment, working to save up money for law school. But it felt weird living in Haze. Like there was something subdued about the misty city with its tangled streets and gabled homes. A distinctly grim old-world European bend to the buildings rising out of the evening mists. Mists that even now clung coyly about the air, wrapping around light poles that glowed dimly in the night.

Julia sighed and looked again at the flickering neon sign hovering above the shop. Tatia's Tattoos! declared the fluttering tubes of colours in reds and blues. Julia took another deep breath, shifted in her sweater and long skirt, and stepped through the doors.

The little bell jingled above her as she wandered in. Music beat from a pair of speakers bolted into the corners of the walls. The chair waiting in the back of the room resembled something like a dentist's with its side tables, array of pointy devices and vague sense of medical purpose. More images of potential tattoos decorated the walls among outlandish posters from the age of pulps. Swirling Chinese letters interposed themselves between the vividly realized etchings of Frank Frazetta and shamanistic designs of spiders and vipers written in ink and flesh.

A woman was sitting in a chair reading a magazine, and it was hard not to stare. Buxom, she wore leather boots and a strap around her chest and waist revealing her tanned skin almost entirely. Or, what little of it that could be seen, for the woman was almost completely covered in the swirling patterns of tattoos. They intertwined and mixed, spiralled and joined in a dizzying array of patterns like some maddened web etched on her flesh, rolling over her generous, firm breasts and slipping under the band of her belt. Only her face was free of them, framed like a mask among the inks. She looked up, and her eyes brightened further at the sight of Julia.

"Well! Welcome," she said, folding her magazine and rising from her chair. Every movement was sinuous, the tattoos dancing across her skin, her breasts bouncing with the movement and entrapping Julia's eyes. "Name's Tatia. What can I do for you?"

"Oh. Ah. Hello, Tatia," Julia stammered. "I'm um... Julia. I ah... I saw your shop and..."

Tatia's smiled widened. "Let me guess. You want a tattoo."

Julia flushed. "Well... yes."

"Stands to reason. Have you had one before?"

"N-no."

"No problem. We get a lot of first timers. Did you have a design in mind?"

"Oh, well, I-I guess I hadn't really thought about that..."

Tatia nodded, her lashes lidding her eyes. "Hm. That's not too uncommon either. After all, a tattoo is such a major undertaking. It's like defining yourself in an entirely new way. Especially where you have it. I have a few design books if you like. Buuut..."

"But?"

"But I think I know just the design for you," Tatia said. She moved, the patterns across her lithe body writhing as she grabbed the chair and spun it about to face Julia, cranking it back until it lay prone. "C'mon. Lie down."

Julia hesitated, but after a moment did as bid. The leather of the chair was smooth and warm to her skin, but she still shivered with a strange unease.

"So tell me why you wanted a tattoo?" Tatia said as she pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

"Oh, well. I mean. It's like you said. I guess I just wanted to try something new. Something um..."

"Daring?" Tatia said, the glove snapping into place.

Julia twitched at the sharp sound. "Um. Yeah. Daring."

"I know exactly what you mean. It can be so hard to indecisive. To not know what it is you want. So much easier to just hide in a comfortable cocoon of the ordinary. I bet it took weeks to work up the courage to come here and decide to even walk in."

"Ye-eah!" Julia squeaked as she felt the hem of her sweater tucked up, baring the pale flesh of her lower back.

"Mmhmm," Tatia hummed appreciatively. "I bet it is. Which is a real shame because you're very attractive, you know. I bet you get compliments about it all the time."

"I... I do sometimes..." Julia said, burying her burning face in her arms. She snuck a peek at Tatia and felt again that strange warmness spread through her at the sight of the ravishing woman. The way her tattoos and markings shifted with the subtle movements of her musculature was fascinating. She found herself tracing them again, trying to find where they began or ended.

Tatia merely smiled crooked smile, her eyes bright as she applied a sterilizing pad. Julia twitched at the cool sensation on her lower back, a gasp high and tight escaping her.

"Don't worry. I know its cold, but it'll all be fine soon. Don't worry about a thing," Tatia said.

Julia nodded shakily. Tatia's tone had such a soothing quality to it. In addition to the way her tattoos moved across her skin just made Julia's worries melt away. "Th-thanks..."

"Good. Just relax. It'll be quick. You'll barely feel a thing."

"Um... Um... O-okay," Julia said. "Um, wh-where are you..."

"You just leave it to me. We'll put it in a hidden spot. No one's gonna see it unless you show them," she said, tugging down Julia's skirt a little, baring the upper globe of her bottom. Julia flushed again, feeling oddly humiliated. Yet... yet she didn't complain. If anything, she felt a little contented. A thrill shivered up her spine.

"O-okay."

"Good girl," Tatia cooed as she fetched out the needle gun, the tip gleaming, its frame painted in a blaze of patterns like broken glass. Or spider web. "We're going to write a little charm here. No one will be able to see it, but you'll always know it's there. It symbolizes the strength to be a bit more courageous. To be able to do more than before. Be a bit more outgoing."

"Y-yeah. I think I'd like that."

"Good," Tatia said, smiling. "Now, it might hurt a little. A lot of people find watching my tattoos helps them distract themselves from the pain."

"They do?"

"Sure. Feel free to do the same. Now. Let's get started..."

Julia tensed as the needle neared her lower back. She bit her lip. She hadn't expected a tattoo to go there. What did they call it? A tramp stamp? She felt herself flush again, but she didn't protest. Maybe... maybe this was what she needed. Tatia seemed so cool. So confident. It was actually kind of nice. She wished she could be more like her. She gasped, arms tightening as she felt the needle touch her skin. Fuck! She felt... felt so weirdly sensitive. Again that shiver of not quite fear, not quite pain, raced up her spine. She did as Tatia suggested and simply focused on the other woman's tattoos. How they shifted and writhed across her bronzed skin. Wriggling about, winding into her short leather pants and top. How if she focused she could almost make out the other woman's budding nipples. How her shorts moved against her mons...

Julia inhaled, breathing in the scent of the chair's leather. She bet Tatia smelled a lot like that. But maybe something deeper. The tang of sweat and... and something else. Something Julia didn't dare name. She wasn't a lesbian. She was sure of it. But Tatia seemed so beyond rules. It was intoxicating. Julia licked her lips, imagining it. Imagining what it would be like to bury her head in those soft breasts. Or between those strong thighs. Imagined what it would be like to have those legs locked around her head, the tattoos twitching, arching, shifting with every pleasured motion of Tatia's strong limbs.

Julia swallowed. God. Was she really fantasizing about this? She tried again to focus on the sensation of the needle on her skin, the tingle of pain so slight it wasn't even really pain. It didn't really hurt. Actually it felt... it felt almost... almost good...

"Alright. Done."

Julia jumped in surprise. She hadn't even noticed. Her head felt stuffy like she'd just woken from a very deep nap. Dazedly, she took Tatia's hand, letting the other woman help her off of the chair and on to her feet.

"Turned out great. Here! Take a look."

And just like that Tatia was pressed against her, leather clad breasts mashed against Julia's. Julia gasped, head jerking up, locked with Tatia's sharp features, the other woman's smirk of amusement making Julia's mouth go dry. She felt the busty woman reach around her, hook a finger back in her sweater and tug it up. "Have a look."

Julia turned her head quickly at the command and saw a full body mirror behind them. Her eyes travelled down, locking on the reflection of her ass, and the strangle symbol painted right above her bottom. A character written in odd script, resembling a butterfly. And... Did her ass... look a little bigger?

"What do you think?"

"Um... I... I like it," Julia said. "It looks good."

"Glad you think so. Now, I use a special kind of ink, so it might tingle for a while, but you won't have to worry about it getting infected or keeping it covered with anything. I pride myself on my work. And you are a great canvas."

Julia blushed brightly as Tatia's hands ghosted over her ass, sucked in a breath at a strange sensation that thumped through her core and quim. "Um... Y-yeah. It looks... um... It's great."

"Good. Now, off you go."

Tatia pulled away, and immediately Julia missed the sensation of the other woman pressed against her. She glanced back as the tattooist took a seat in that chair, legs spread, and Julia could just maybe see the outline of something against the leather of her pants. Realizing she was staring, Julia tore her eyes away and fumbled for her purse. "Um. How much was it?"

"Don't pay yet," Tatia said, the chair easing back as she reclined. "I want to make sure everything goes fine. If it needs any touch ups or you have any complaints about the look, you can come back tomorrow and tell me."

"That's an odd policy," Julia said.

"True," Tatia said, smirking again that crooked smile. "But it'll get that pretty ass back in here. So we'll see."

Julia's face flamed at Tatia's words. "Uh. Right. um. Okay. I'll... uh. I'll see you um... th-then."

The door rattled as she backed into it, the bell tingling merrily. Still flushing, Julia spun about and pushed outside, scrambling out the door and into the evening, the humming neon lights burning overhead as she hurried down the road.

.o0o.

A normal routine for Julia in the evening was go home, cook some dinner, watch some Netflix and then go to bed. But as she walked into her small apartment, something about that normal ritual seemed so... lacking. So painfully ordinary. She tossed down her purse, her lower back still tingling, her body still filled with that strange awareness of itself. As if some silent tension coursed through her as she surveyed her sensibly decorated apartment, looking like it had escaped from of the pages of Pottery Barn. Fuck. Was her apartment always so small?

She felt claustrophobic. The room seemed to itch on her skin with its pastoral paintings, eggshell white paint and glass coffee table. She needed to get out. Needed to do something. Go somewhere. Like... like a club, maybe...

A thrill shot back up her spine. Yes. Yes, why not. She grinned. After all, wasn't the reason she got the tattoo to experience new things? To be more outgoing? More adventurous? She looked back down at herself. Oh, but those clothes wouldn't do at all. She swept through the living room and into her bedroom. She threw open closet and dresser and plunged her hands into the softness of fabrics and clothes. No. No. Fuck it all. Did she really have nothing to wear?

At last, she managed to assemble an outfit out of the dredges of the old her. A pair of faded jeans and a simple t-shirt she hadn't worn in years graced her curves. She stood before the mirror, turning this way and that, admiring herself. She really did look good, she mused. Good enough to grab someone's attention for sure. Though again she couldn't help but notice... was her ass... had it always quite so... voluptuous?

Curious, Julia reached back and cupped the soft globes of her bottom. She gasped at the sensation that shot through her, tingling with something she had never dreamed before. She bit her lip, her hands kneading the soft flesh of her ass. Fuuuuck. That felt good. Recalling herself, she reluctantly pulled her hands away, the butterfly tattoo above her bottom fluttering a little bit from her twitching muscles. It was probably just the jeans. She hadn't worn them in so long they probably just made her ass look more... curvy. She smiled shyly at herself, then giggled. Well! Time to see what Haze had to offer!

She hurried out of the room and down the stairs, drawn by invisible threads out the building. Her tattoo, still hidden under her tee, tingled through her. She knew where she was going. Haze had dozens of clubs scattered through its downtown, none of which Julia had ever had the courage to actually visit since she moved to Haze four months ago.

But tonight was different. She was different.

The Lotus was one of those clubs she'd often admired from afar, but never dared enter. She walked towards it now, feeling light, like she'd been pumped full of helium letting her float by the bouncer and inside.

Light. Sound. The force of both intermingled. The thumping bass of the music overwhelmed her in a sudden surge of noise, reverberating in her very bones. The lights flashed, illustrating the dark rather than brightening it. Flickering across a sea of bodies on the dance floor. The air smelled of flavoured smoke and something primal. Raw.

Above the dance floor women writhed in cages. Dancing and swaying, neon paint illuminating their skins and curves. Their lips were parted, their eyes dim, expressions almost orgasmic as they swayed to the thumping music.

Julia stumbled away from the battle of the senses and to a seat at the bar, letting the sounds roll over her. Maybe... maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe this was a little too intense for her first effort.

"Hi there."

The voice. Rough. Purring. Filled with promise and interest that sent Julia's heart thumping turned her in the stool to find a man behind her, handsome with short blonde hair and piercings decorating his eyebrow and nose. His shirt was little more than mesh, revealing his taut chest and a pair of rings in his nipples, his pants so torn it was a wonder they didn't fall apart right there.

The sight of the man sent again that strange quiver through her core. Julia found herself smiling back, her lashes low. "Hi," she murmured.

His smile widened, that silent connection sparking between them as he slid into the chair beside her. She couldn't help notice the shape of his bulge through those tattered pants. Her breathing was deepening. The sounds of the club and the flash of the light were no longer distracting. They were overwhelming, carrying her along a wave of sensation. Her ass tingled. Her core ached.

"Jackson," he said.

"Julia," she replied.

And that was all that needed to be said. Like in a dream she was drawn out of her chair, onto the dance floor. She moved among the writhing bodies; shifting, dancing, pressing against Jackson, moaning softly as his bulge rubbed against her ass. As his hands wandered over her, stroking hip and slender stomach. Breasts and arms.

Then she was turned about. Her lips were locked with his. She tasted the piercing of his tongue; cold and metallic, like blood. The cool metal peaking his nipples were pressing against her soft mounds. She was panting. Gasping. Grinding. This wasn't her. She would never have done this.

But she was. She did.

Later, the door of her apartment sprang wide, knocked open by her ass. She was still kissing him. Still stroking him. They stumbled across the floor, unable to escape each other's arms. She fell back onto the bed. Panting. Her jeans, so tight, so confining, fell away. Her shirt was pushed up, baring her modest breasts. His lips were on them, the stud on his tongue playing with her nipples, hard as they were. She was moaning. Her legs were locked around his waist. His pants were gone. His cock rubbed against the velvet folds of her gash. She moaned, her voice rising, keening. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she parted her legs wantonly.

He was in her. She cried out as she rocked to the motions, driving herself down onto his cock. Taking him to the root. Deeper than she ever imagined she could.

"Yes. Yes!" she cried out. "F-fuck me. Fuck meeeee!"

"Julia! Oh f-fuck!"

She cried out, never imagining her own name could sound so lovely. So wonderful. So full of promise and desire. Her scream as she came filled her ears. His groan as he followed her past that peak was like music, and the heat of his cum shooting into her like fuel to the fire burning inside her.

When he pulled out she slid off the bed, her lips taking his cock, helping it back to full hardness. Helping it to do more. To fuck her again. To piston his cock again into her tight pussy. To pound her once more to that height of ecstasy.

She was on all fours. The butterfly above her ass twitched as his cock filled her pussy again. She cried out, cumming again. Bliss overwhelmed her. Like a dream she floated within it. And like a dream, it never seemed to end.

.o0o.

Julia stirred as dawn peeked through the blinds in sharp bars of light. She groaned and sat up slowly, feeling torpid and heavy. But good. Very good. She slowly realized she was naked, and with that realization the memories of last night trickled in.

She sat on the edge of the bed, thighs parted, her mind slowly absorbing the scattered flashes of what had happened. The gasps. The moans. The taste of kisses and cum and other things she'd never known. She realized she was curling a lock of her blonde hair around a finger and quickly pulled it away.

"Oh my god," she murmured feeling a blush warm her cheeks. "Th-there's no way..."

But all she had to do was look around her room and she knew it was no dream. Her jeans lay strewn at the foot of the bed, her t-shirt practically torn apart and hanging on her desk's chair. And the smell. She inhaled, her breath hitching as she caught again that sharp scent of sex and sweat and more.

Julia recalled herself, swallowed. She shifted, rubbing her ass against the bed. Her tattoo was still tingling.

"Oh! Right," she murmured, recalling Tatia's words. Hastily Julia jumped to her feet, staggered as an ache shot up her back. A moan escaped her, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Did... did she just...

Forcing it from her mind she stumbled into the bathroom and to the shower. By the time she stepped out into the steam laden room and was drying her hair she was feeling a little more herself. Somewhat. At least she wasn't reeking of sex and sin.

Her closet flew open and she took stock of her clothes. Her fingers played over the sensible blouses and skirts, but they were all so... plain. She pulled out a pair, in the end. Both were a little old. And more, a little small. The skirt rode up a little on her ass, defining the plush curve, and she blushed at the brazen display it made of her asset. Yet again that tingle of delight spread through her, and a giggle escaped her. She tossed on a blouse over a plain shirt, leaving the former open, and with a slight swing in her step she left her apartment.