Some of you will know that I have a lot of tattoos. So many that when asked how many? I have to stop and do a mental tour around my body. Then I wonder, do I count all the different tattoos that ended up being part of a bigger whole? If the answer is yes, then it is 18. I think. Not that it matters because there will be more and more coming.
And it isn't just the tattoos themselves I like. It is the smell when I walk in it smells of clean and. It is the sound of the tattoo machines. That buzz. It is the decor, the way that I know I am somewhere where I will not be judged.
Then there are the tattooists. These people that understand you and your need for ink. Who don't judge you. Who you trust to cut your skin and put ink into it and making a beautiful shape you will wear for life.
Of course it helps that they are mostly gorgeous. I may have my tattoo goggles on, but I like to look at ink as much as I like to wear it. And they are so far away from societal norms, yet they are sensible, careful and really very professional.
I have a new studio I go to now I live on a mountain in Wales, but before then, when I lived somewhere else, (locations have been changed to protect the far from innocent) there was a member of staff at the studio I used who I had to try hard to be professional with!
He was tall. I am a sucker for tall, curly hair, blue eyes with a cocky twinkle in them, confident smile, absolutely covered in ink, and he had a way of holding himself, of leaning on one hip then the other that made me feel like he was about to wine and grine (wind and grind) at any given moment. Do you get what I mean? Like he was strong, solid, yet with a fluidity that I found ridiculously sexy.
And he was such a flirt.
I would arrive and he would be lounging on the desk, long, muscular legs stretched out in front of him, look me up and down and say looking gooood babes. Now, I'm a feminist, a strident one, one that in any other given situation would probably tell him to fuck off, but if this man didn't make me blush when he looked at me. Outrageous! I told him once that I had a dream about him and he looked in my eyes and said was I good? and me, blushing from the ends of my toes said not like that, I dreamed we went dancing. He then pulled me close, moved his hips with mine in a soca style and then whispered I'd take you dancing, after. When I tell you, the fanny was a' fluttering.
The worst of it was that I rarely crush on men that hard. Women, yes. Especially if they're tall. Tall women can tell me to do anything and I will answer yes ma'am. But men? NO! I really only fancy three of them in the world. My Sexy Husband (I lusted over him for 6 years before we got together), Pedro Pascal (aprendido Español para Pedro), and one other guy that I am looking at to come round and play sometime. Not A, he's still abroad and having a wonderful life, but someone who, well, is super fucking hot.
So back to the guy who I shall call L. It got worse and worse with him. I would be wet as soon as he looked at me, and like jelly when he hugged me. And he liked to hug me. He got more and more familiar about it too. C'mere and press that body against me, he would say then hold me at exactly the pressure I like. I can feel your heart racing, he would say, making it race harder. I had no chill with him. I was, as I suspect the kids are no longer saying, down bad for him. On the day he asked when are you going to let me tattoo you? I must have been feeling brave because I asked him to design a selkie for my back and let me know when it was ready so I could come in and see it.
Three weeks later I was at the studio with him. Alone. I had got the bus up straight after work but the road to the studio was so busy because everyone else had just finished work soon. I was certain that L would have left by now, but when I arrived, he was outside having a cigarette. He looked me up and down, taking in my work outfit of pencil skirt, heels and jacket and whistled. Rocking the corporate ting babes. I laughed, as I usually rocked up in boots, shorts, t-shirt, and the previous night's make up. I said as much and L said he liked the look on me, like I was a headmistress who could tell him off. Fanny flutters ahoy.
L led me into the back and sat on the table next to me to show me the design. He was so close to me that our hips and shoulders were touching. He seemed oblivious to it, like he was used to this level of intimacy but my body was on fire. He showed me the selkie and she was beautiful, just stunning. I told him as much and he said jacket off, blouse off, bra undone, lie on your front. Let's see that back. And I took them off slowly, mostly so I wouldn't fumble buttons by partly because I was enjoying the feelings in my body. The adrenaline excitement of being so close to him, breathing in his essence of clean hair and expensive aftershave, layered with tobacco and coffee. I wanted to lick him. I did not lick him. Not right then, anyway.
Of course I let my big breasts drop rather than hold them up when I undid my bra. Of course I took it off oh so carefully to allow a glimpse of side boob, of course I passed my clothes back to him to put on a chair without looking. And thank the seduction gods, I slid onto the table in one fluid motion that arched my back and showed my pencil skirted ass off to perfection. I could hear L's breathing get louder and this made my excitement all the more heightened. He's going to touch my bare flesh. I'm going to feel his hands on me. Oh god, am I sweating? I felt like I was sweating, my heartbeat sounded loud in my ears and my clit had its own pulse.
Then his fingers were tracing down my back and he was asking how big I wanted it and I replied that for healing I would need it to come above my bra and he murmured that it was quite big and I asked if he was still talking about the tattoo and he coughed in shock and I laughed and it made my ass wiggle and he put his hand on it and told it to calm down girl and I gasped and turned my head and saw he'd made a tent of his shorts and my oh my it was quite big and I was still there, topless, soaking wet and he was, by the looks of things, rock hard with one hand on my ass and one on my bare back and fuck oh fuck I just wanted him to hitch my skirt up and fuck me right there and then on the tattoo table. If I was in my shorts and boots I would have asked if he was going to do anything else with that hand, but even after all those months of flirting, all those hugs and dancing in the corridor and obviously fancying each other, because I was wearing my work clothes (from the waist down anyway) I felt I had to be, well... professional.
He still hadn't moved his hands. They felt hot and firm and my body involuntarily moved to press up against them. That was all the signal they needed apparently because with a grunt of decision, L pulled me up and kissed me. Have I mentioned how fixated I was with his mouth? He had full, beautifully formed lips that unlike in other men, did not look wet all the time. He had a strong mouth and his eyes as he pulled away seared a question into me.
Yes, I managed to breathe and it was on.
He took off his t-shirt and I ran my hands over his tatted chest. Those mornings at the gym he told me about had certainly paid off. My fingertips trailed over his nipples and he kissed me harder then, tongues exploring each other's mouths, hungrily tasting each other as our hands explored our bodies. It was exquisite, wrapping my legs around his hips while their fluidity moved against me, making me pull him in closer and closer with my thighs. It was going to happen. I was going to fuck this gorgeous specimen in real life rather than just in my fantasy and it was going to be...
Hello? Anyone about? The door was unlocked so I came in.
SHIT. L shouted, hold on, take a seat by reception and I will be out in a second. We were both trying not to laugh while he grabbed his t-shirt and willed his hard, fat cock to go down. Just a minute he shouted, turned round to leave, thought better of it and turned back and kissed me one more time before darting out the front to see what the potential customer wanted. She was looking for a consult and when dressed and composed, I walked through the main part of the studio.
That all looks in order L. Safe, sanitised, very... professional.
And that is where we leave it for now. Join us next week for part two.
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