Page 26 of The Tattoo Artist

Catherine took that I felt a bit weird speaking about this in front of Ares and went back to sleep. Hours pass by as the tattoo machine come to a stop. Ares wiped off the ink from Cathy’s leg with a wet wipe, then skill-fully patched up the fresh tattoo with black patch, all while Cathy gave her approval.

“You should get a tattoo,” Cathy suggested, looking at me through the mirror.

“Oh, no, no way...” I stammer.

“What happened to wanting to experience things? Just get one where your parents would never see. How much, Ares?” Cathy reaches for her purse, determined to convince me.

“Twenty,” Ares replied.

“I-I can’t afford it, Cathy. Expenses?”

I remind her.

“You can do it for free,” Ares interjects, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine.

His eyes bore into mine, the same way Diávolos had looked at me.

Cathy’s widened eyes reflected my own surprise. There was something undeniably familiar about Ares, something that went beyond the surface. But how could I explain that this tattoo artist shared a striking resemblance to the man who kissed me and then vanished into thin air?

I glance back at Cathy who mouths, ‘experience things.’

I then turn my focus back to Ares who crosses his arms over his chest, awaiting my response. “I’m going to go get some food, leave you two to it.” Catherine excuses herself and closes the door behind her.

And now our friendship resumes.

“Do it.” He whispers, in that same daring tone.

“No.” I shoot back, a blush creeping across my face.

“I dare you.”

“You dare me?”

“I do.”

“Fine, I want one here.” I point to the middle of my breast, a sinister smile spreads across his face once I accepted his dare.

“Of what, butterfly.” He asks, taking a step forward.

“Of a butterfly.” He pushes my hair away from my bare shoulder, and gently grazes my neck. “The same one on your hand.” I slide my fingers around his wrist, and he glances down at the butterfly tattoo on the back of his hand. I bring his hand against the middle of my breast, “do you think it would look nice?”

His eyes darken.

A flicker of surprise crosses Ares’ face as I confidently expressed my desire to have him tattoo a butterfly between my breasts. Cathy had urged me to experience things, and I wanted to seize the opportunity.

“You know that means you have to take off your dress and your bra,” he warned me, trying to gauge if I was serious. I shrug my shoulders, determination bubbling within me. Where was this newfound confidence coming from?

“I trust you,” I whisper, looking up at him with unwavering resolve. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching mine for any signs of uncertainty.

“You shouldn’t.” He whispers.

“I guess I’m not a good listener.”

There was an undeniable tension in the room, and I could feel Ares’ gaze burning into my skin as I stood before him. He nodded, wordlessly understanding what I wanted, and gestured for me to sit on the tattoo bed. As he snapped on his gloves, I felt my heart race, nerves and excitement swirling inside me.

I struggle to reach the zipper of my dress, or more like I pretended to, I didn’t need his help, but I wanted his touch, “can you... help, please?”

Ares positions himself right behind me, right in front of a mirror so we could see each other. His fingers grazes my back, sending jolts of electricity through me. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as his skilled hands found the zipper of my dress. I held onto the fabric.

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