Page 3 of Saved By the Rogue

"Is this enough?" she asked. I eyed it.

"Depends on what you’re looking for," I replied. Truth be told, I would have given her a whole sleeve for that amount, if she had just stuck around a little longer.

She held up her left arm and tapped the spot just below her hand.

"I want a star, here," she explained. "Maybe a couple of inches wide. Can you do that for me?"

"First tattoo?" I asked her. She nodded.

"That’s a painful place to get it," I warned her. "You think you can handle it?”

She narrowed her eyes at me like I had just put forward a challenge to her.

"Yeah," she replied. "I can handle it."

I jerked my head over to one of the chairs next to the mirror.

"Sit down there," I told her. "I’ll sketch something and get you cleaned up, and then we can get started."

She perched on the edge of the chair, and I pulled out some paper to sketch out a few ideas for her. I could feel her watching me, taking in the work I was doing. It wasn’t exactly a difficult piece she had asked for, but still, I was in no rush to get her out of here.

"Why a star?" I asked her.

"What?" she blurted out. She seemed on edge. Probably nervous about this tattoo. We didn’t get many first-timers in here – mostly bikers who already had a sleeve full of gnarly stick-and-poke art – but getting your first was always tricky.

"Why do you want a star?" I repeated myself. She sighed.

"Oh, uh," she replied. "That’s my name. Star."

"Your name is Star?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. Not exactly a common one.

"Yeah..."

"Your parents must have thought a lot of you," I remarked. She bit her lip.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I guess they must have."

"Here, what about this?" I asked as I showed her the quick sketch I had done. It was simple, and wouldn’t take more than twenty minutes or so, but her face lit up as soon as she saw it.

"That’s exactly what I had in mind," she gushed. "I love it. Can we get started?”

"Let me get you cleaned up first," I chuckled. "You in some kind of rush?"

"No, not really," she replied. "I just...I’m looking forward to this, that’s all."

"Here, put your hand like this," I told her, flipping it over on the arm of the chair. Her skin felt soft beneath my touch – my hands must have seemed callused to her, but I noticed goosebumps appear on her wrist as I touched her. I laid out the sketch on her arm, checking that it matched up with her delicate wrist. I could feel her watching me as I worked, and there was something about that watchful gaze that had me feeling a way I wasn’t used to.

"Okay, I’m going to get my tools ready," I told her. "You sure about this? Last chance to back out if you’re not..."

"I’m sure," she replied, narrowing her eyes at herself in the mirror, as though she was convincing herself as much as she was me.

I pulled over the tray of tools – the tattoo gun, the alcohol wipes, the needles – and got myself set up, laying out the sketch so I could draw over it and give myself something to work off of. She watched me as I drew out the shape of the star against her skin.

"What made you decide to come here for your first tattoo?" I asked her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, not many people choose us for their first," I remarked, as I wiped down the area. "Especially not people like you."

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