Ink Works: A Tattoo Tale
Dixie C © 2001
Word count 3,271
Just a bit more and it’ll be done, he thought. She’ll be done, he automatically corrected himself. For three weeks, he’d listened to the tedious hum of the tattoo gun as Cole worked on her. Bill glanced over his shoulder to stare at her reflection in the mirror while Cole added the final details to the tattoo. The droning of the gun faded into the background as Bill focused his attention on her.
“God, she is beautiful. Who is she?” He’d asked Cole when he’d first seen the drawing while having his dragon finished.
Her skin; bronzed, like that of a sun-goddess, her long chestnut hair flowed freely over her bare shoulders. Her corseted breasts burgeoned lushly above her bodice; just the slightest hint of cinnamon areolas showed beyond the rise of the fabric. Long stocking covered legs crossed at the ankles and just a glimpse of smooth, rosy labia peeked from behind the g-string that covered her virtue. A thin black cord bound her hands in front of her. Likewise, her upper arms had been confined to her sides. Her dark eyes were half-closed in ecstasy and could only be described as mischievously sensual. While her glossy red lips parted in a perpetual moan.
“Nobody real,” Cole had answered. “Just a drawing. An image that popped into my head one night, so I put it on paper.”
Bill had become obsessed with the woman in the drawing, wanting nothing more than to have her for his own. After returning many times to study the drawing, he’d finally told Cole, “I want her, I need...I need to possess her. How much?”
“It’s still twelve hundred, Bill. But I thought you said your wife would have your balls on a platter if you got this tat done?”
“Yeah, well she’d prefer my balls on a platter anyhow. At least this’ll give her a real reason to put them there. For twelve hundred bucks she’s all mine right? I don’t want anyone else having her, ever!”
“Dude, you must be a lunatic! But hey, if you really want to buy trouble with your wife...for twelve hundred bucks, it’s all yours.”
Once started, he had been terribly disappointed when Cole had refused to work more than two or three days a week; claiming that Bill’s skin needed at least a minimal amount of time to heal between sessions.
Bill’s muscles tensed and flexed beneath the constant pain inflicted by the tattoo gun. Its needle piercing the tender flesh of his lower back again and again, was an exercise in monotonous agony. Cole was moving the needle from place to place, but it still felt as though he held the needle upon a single patch of raw nerve endings. The tattoo gun buzzed, a mosquito whispering sweet nothing’s into a sleepy ear. Bill surveyed the room around him, trying to distract himself so as not to dwell on the pain.
He was straddling a stool; his stomach and upper body resting on the foot of the lounge-like tattoo chair. It was hot in the shop and sweat glistened on his muscular upper body and coated the chair beneath him. He felt as though the flesh of his stomach had liquefied and melded with the vinyl of the chair. And he wondered, briefly, if his flesh would remain fused to the chair when he stood.
“Need a break?” Cole asked, interrupting Bill’s introspection.
“I said, need a break?”
“How much longer?”
“About 30 minutes, maybe an hour. I’m finishing the detail work on the lace gloves. When that’s done, we’re finished.” Cole said, stretching and reaching for his pack of smokes.
“Naw, let’s skip the break and just get her done,” Bill said, anxious to finish.
Sighing, Cole looked longingly at his smokes then nodded and went back to work on the tat.
Not quite an hour later bill stood looking over his shoulder with a hand mirror. “Damn. She looks good Cole,” he whispered as he gazed at her image in the full-length mirror behind him. “Fuckin’ gorgeous. Too bad she is just an ink work, huh?”
“Uh...yeah, sure. Done lots of, umm...interesting art work during my career.” Applying telfa-pads to the new tattoo Cole said, “You know the rules, so I won’t bore you with them again. Come back in two to three weeks and I’ll look over it and see if you need any touch ups.”
“Thanks. Thank you very much,” Bill said, carefully pulling his shirt over his head, then handing Cole the last two hundred dollars that he owed on the tattoo.
Climbing into his truck, Bill lit a cigarette. Drawing the smoke deep into his lungs, he carefully laid his back against the seat and prepared for the drive home.
At home, Bill slipped off his shirt. Lying down upon the bed, he fantasized about Angel. It was as though her image had been branded on his brain. Each time he closed his eyes he could picture her, bound and sitting before him, a stunning portrait of beauty. Regretfully, he opened his eyes when his back started to sting. The stinging similar to the pain of road-rash or rug-burn. The telfa-pad had adhered to the ointment creating the sensation of a tickling itch that couldn’t be scratched. Annoyed, he got up to remove the pads, but even after doing so the itching didn’t cease. Lying down upon the bed again he finally managed to drift off to sleep, dreaming of Angel.
“Well, I see you got your whore finished,” Nadine said, startling Bill awake.
Here we go again. Same shit, different day, Bill thought. “Jesus Christ, Nadine, she’s just a fucking tattoo, give me a break.”
“Yeah you’re right, she’s just a fucking tattoo. Nothing out of the ordinary about a tattoo of a woman in bondage on your back,” she said, standing to leave the room.
He knew the conversation was over - she’d dismissed him. “Wait. Can you put some of this ointment on my back for me?” He asked quietly, holding out a small foil packet.
“Oh whee-ha! Gee, can I really? That’s just what I wanted to do, lube up your whore. You’re just too fucking good to me, Bill.”
“Good Lord woman. ... What the fucks your problem now?” Bill shouted, clenching his fists tightly, digging half-moons into his palms. Rope-like veins stood out along his neck and temples, throbbing, as several years worth of repressed anger struggled to free itself. Somehow, he managed to choke it back again.
“No problem,” Nadine said, snatching the foil packet from his hand. She bit the edge with her eyeteeth, tore the top off, and squirted the clear ointment onto his back. She rubbed it roughly into his tender skin and he flinched, sucking air between his teeth in a hiss. But, he kept his mouth shut. No sense pissing her off anymore than I already have, he thought.
“There, your whore is lubed.”
Bill turned to thank her, but Nadine had already left the room.
He’d expected her initial backlash. After all, another female tattooed on her husband’s back would piss off most any woman. What he was having trouble with was her continued reaction to Angel. He hadn’t expected her anger over the tat to last this long. He’d figured that by this time she’d have accepted Angel as just another tattoo. Just like his others. A purple and turquoise dragon resided on each of his shoulders. He had typical skull and castle ink work on his biceps and a skull-faced joker and king on the outside of each of his calves.
Bill shook his head and laughed at the idea that his wife could seriously be jealous of a fantasy woman. Even if that fantasy woman was extremely sexy, she still amounted to nothing more than dye injected beneath his skin. But, she is beneath my skin, Bill admitted to himself. She constantly lingers just below the surface of my thoughts, waiting for a chance to push her way into my mind.
Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. She’s a tattoo, just a fucking tattoo.
Bill lit a cigarette and went to find Nadine; she was in the kitchen frying chicken for dinner. He stood in the doorway appraising her athletic body as she cooked. Seeking a truce, he walked up behind her and slid his hand between her long lithe legs. His hand followed the crack of her round ass to the top of her ass, over her hip and then wrapped around her narrow waist as he pulled her against him.
Kissing her neck he said, “Mmmm that sure smells good. I’m starving. And speaking of smelling good...you smell pretty tasty yourself, my dear.”
“Gee thanks,” Nadine said, tilting her head sideways so that his lips could better access her neck. “Compared to fried chicken, how romantic.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Bill said. He turned, kicked over the trashcan, and stomped from the kitchen.
Sitting alone in the living room Bill ran over a list of what made Nadine, Nadine. She hated her job at the gym. Hated his job, because he didn’t make enough money. She had no close friends and hated his friends. She didn’t get along with her mother or his for that matter. Maybe, she just hated him? They had no children. But, they had never wanted rug-rats. Then the thought surfaced, like a dead fish in a pond. Was her biological clock ticking? Could that be what was driving her mad? Driving her away from him?
“Dinner’s done, come eat,” Nadine called from the kitchen. The sound of her voice shattered Bill’s ruminations. He rose and plodded back into the kitchen.
Dinner passed in an uncomfortable silence. Bill gave up on the hope of conversation after making a couple of attempts that gained him nothing more than a scathing gaze. Nadine did see fit to look up occasionally and scowl, but that was her only acknowledgement of him. Tired, stressed, and aching, Bill told her goodnight and went to bed.
Lying on his stomach, he fell into a light sleep. He didn’t know how much later it was when the bed shifting beneath Nadine’s weight disturbed his sleep. In his state of semi-sleep, he heard her huff as she caught a glimpse of Angel reflected in the sparse glow given off by the night-light in the bathroom.
Bill came fully awake sometime later, when he thought he heard someone choking. Turning his head, he looked at Nadine; a soundly sleeping silhouette outlined in the meager glow from the night-light. After watching her closely for a minute or two, the sound was not repeated and he lay back down and closed his eyes.
A short time later, a cool hand upon his shoulder startled him awake. The fingertips slid down the side of his back, carefully avoiding his new tattoo. Continuing downward, they brushed over the tops of his buttocks and then just barely grazed the hair on his ass as they slid gently down his crack. Bill shivered at the light touch and goose bumps crawled across his skin like living things. The fingers slipped between his partially splayed legs and tenderly caressed the underside of his balls and he moaned quietly.
It had been a few weeks since he and Nadine had had sex and Bill found himself more than ready. During their marriage Nadine had rarely initiated sex, so to say he was taken aback by this sudden aggressiveness would be an understatement. He thought of a joke he had once heard. What do men consider foreplay? A half an hour of begging. Bill didn’t find the joke funny because that was exactly what his sex life had been reduced to. Nadine didn’t like oral sex, giving or receiving; she’d told him once, “It just doesn’t do anything for me.” Of course, her body told him a completely different story; no matter how much she denied liking it, her body seemed to love it. So Bill would beg and plead until she’d finally give in and let him go down on her.
He loved pussy, loved everything about it, but he definitely loved to bury his face in it. He longed for the smell, the taste, and the moans; he especially delighted in the moans. Because with the moans came the wild bucking and thrashing, her hips grinding her pussy hard against his face. Her clit slip sliding against his nose while he licked, sucked, and inhaled her ever-intensifying scent. While Bill contemplated his passion for pussy, Nadine’s fingers continued to stroke his sac, his cock grew harder by the second.
He felt hot breath against his back, followed by the pressure of warm lips. The lips moved down his back pursuing the same path that the fingers had taken, until they reached the apex of his crack. He gasped as he felt a moist tongue slide down one cheek of his ass and then up the other. “Wh...What are you doing? Nadine, have you lost your mind?” Bill asked, stunned by this new sensation. She had never done anything like this, would never do anything like this. Hell, he practically had to pay her to blow him. “Shhhh,” was her only response.
Bill stopped thinking about reason and motive and thought only about what was happening now. Nadine’s hand slipped from between his legs and moved to his hip, urging him to turn over onto his back. Bill hesitated briefly, knowing that the sheet would stick to the ointment on his back, not fatal by any means, but it sure felt -- well, oogey was the best he could come up with to describe the feeling. But as Nadine’s tugging became more insistent, her lips moved to the top of his hip and he let her fingers guide him onto his back. He clinched his teeth in anticipation of the slight discomfort, which surprisingly never came.
He relaxed again as her fingers traced a path over the front of his hip to his pubes, stopping only briefly to tug gently at the hair before moving downward to gently caress his balls again. As she breathed, her aspirations teased his cock. He moaned throatily when she pressed her lips to it and began applying soft kisses to the head. Her tongue slithered wetly over the length of his shaft and when she again reached the head, her mouth opened and engulfed him. “Oh god, yes,” he said softly.
Reaching down he caressed the smooth slope of Nadine’s back, his hand slipping over soft flesh before stopping at silk. The feel of silk beneath his hand puzzled him; she never wore silk to bed. She generally slept in an over sized T-shirt and panties. She had silk nighties and lingerie, but she wore them only when she was feeling frisky. This hadn’t happened too often lately. Considering her attitude earlier this evening, the silk only added to the surrealistic quality of the sex and made him wonder if it was all only a very vivid dream. Dream or not, Bill decided to simply go with it. As little sex as he had gotten recently, he wasn’t going to be turning down anything, even if were only a dream.
He slid his hand over her bare ass, then down between her thighs. Grasping her, he pulled gently on her leg, indicating that he wanted her to spread for him. She obliged. The first thing his brain registered was moisture; the second, that her pussy was hairless, his fingers found only smooth slick flesh. Bill pulled his hand back and tried to sit up, but Nadine pushed him back with her free hand. She shifted and rose to her knees in one smooth motion, without releasing his cock from her mouth she was suddenly straddling his face. Bill had a single moment to think this must be a dream, before he was smothered by the scent of her lust. At that moment, all but the thought of the banquet that had been set before him left his mind and he buried his tongue in her over heated flesh.
He lost himself in her, delighting in the feel of her smooth skin on his tongue and her passion flowing slickly down his chin. He reveled in the moans that she uttered around his cock. The vibrations from her moans were driving him insane with the need for release. He could feel himself growing harder and grunted to tell her that she should move. But, she didn’t move. She reached out to cup his balls in her hand and massaged them as she took him deeper down her throat. She pulled back until just the head of his cock was left in her mouth, sucking deeply as she writhed on his face. Bill lost control, the semen bubbling forth under impossible pressure filled her mouth, and all he could do was whimper with ecstasy. He had made the mistake of coming in her mouth once before, she had sat up and spat it in his face. Bill stopped licking and waited in expectation of having his semen spat in his face, but there was nothing to spit. Bill heard her utter a barely audible, “Mmm,” before she bent and licked up the remaining drops of come as they oozed from the tip of his cock. Finished with her clean up, she lifted herself into a sitting position over his face. “Don’t stop now Lover. I’m just getting started,” she said.
Not Nadine’s voice. Soft and smooth -- it was red silk on black lacquer. Total seduction. Panicked, Bill pushed her from his face onto the bed. Turning he reached for the lamp, his hand pausing in mid-air when she asked, “Are you sure you really want to turn that on?” His hand wavered -- he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t know what else to do. His finger pushed the switch and the room filled with somber light. Bill spun back around and lying on the bed was not Nadine, but Angel.
“H...h...how?” was all he managed as he staggered to his feet to stand at the side of the bed.
Angel arranged herself on the pillows and smiled seductively up at him. Like magnets to steel, Bill’s eyes were drawn downward over her body. With her legs unabashedly splayed open before him, her fingertips played idly over her bare slit. “Does it really matter?” She finally asked. “The how of it, I mean.”
Bill took several steps away from the edge of the bed. “You’re not afraid of me are you, Bill? After all ... I am just a fucking tattoo,” she said, using the exact words he’d used to describe her to Nadine.
“Where’s Nadine? Where’s my wife?” He demanded much more calmly than he felt.
“Aww, miss the nagging bitch already, Bill? Don’t worry; she’s close by. Just hanging around -- so to speak,” Angel said, her voice still silky smooth. A sardonic smile twisted her beautiful face; she lifted her free hand and pointed to the mirror over the dresser.
As her implication registered in his muddled brain, Bill flipped on the overhead light. Grabbing a hand mirror from the dresser top, he turned his back to the mirror. Horrified by what he saw, he gazed open-mouthed at the reflection.
Nadine, still in her t-shirt, tattooed on his back. Her position identical to that of Angel’s; eyes half-closed, mouth parted sensually, arms bound by thin strips of black cord. He watched, immobile, as the turquoise dragon on his right shoulder blade opened its mouth in a malicious grin.
DGC ©2001 May not be reproduced in any manner with out permission from the author.