Page 45 of Ink & Desire

I realize I don’t know nearly enough about this subject. Now that I really think about it, it’s not that much different than getting a nose piercing or a tongue ring. And it’s not my place to judge someone’s choices. Though I am curious.

“Some piercings can be therapeutic,” she says. “There are some people who swear that piercing certain cartilage in the ear will alleviate migraines. I’ve never had an issue with migraines, so I can’t speak from experience. But I’ve had a lot of clients come back and tell me it worked wonders for them.”

“What kind of headache do you fix with a penis piercing?” I ask.

She laughs. “That’s usually for a different ailment.”

“Like what?”

I follow her back to the private room that we use for piercings and tattoos that are on sensitive areas of the body. Jessie talks as she walks.

“Some believe circumcision can affect the sensitivity of the penis,” she says. “A piercing in the right place can help increase sensitivity during intercourse. There are also some piercings that can only be done on an uncircumcised penis. In some cultures, genital piercing is a rite of passage. Some get it to increase sexual satisfaction for their partner. Whatever the reason, it’s really important that your piercer knows what they’re doing. Otherwise, they can cause irreparable damage to the penis or the urethra. It’s not as simple as just poking a needle through a dick.”

I nod.

“Is there any body part you don’t pierce?” I ask.

She thinks about it for a moment. “Not really. But if the type of piercing a client wants isn’t feasible for their body type, I won’t risk doing permanent damage. So, in those instances, I’ll refuse.”

I want to ask her to elaborate, but I know her client is waiting. Besides, if I’m being totally honest, some strange curiosity in me wants to see this. So, I watch in silence as Jessie gathers the supplies needed for her to pierce Paul’s dick. It’s a surprisingly simple setup forsomething that seems like a major event. At least, I’m assuming it’s a major event. For all I know, Paul has a multitude of piercings lining his dick. Is that called a Jacob’s Ladder? I’m not sure how many piercings count as a ladder. Maybe I should look that up. Clearly, my education in pierced peens is sorely lacking. I work to slow my rambling thoughts and focus on the setup.

There are a couple of sterile packages containing metal implements. I’m assuming one is the large, hollow needle Jessie will use to do the piercing. The other is probably a pair of forceps. I try to picture how she’ll use the device to grasp a penis, but I can't quite envision it. When I decided to learn to be a tattoo artist, I never imagined this situation. A ridiculous thought flits through my mind and I almost laugh at the absurdity. I wonder how my mother would react if she could see me now. How scandalized she’d be if she knew I was getting ready to watch my tattooed friend push a needle through a man’s penis. I think she’d finally be rendered speechless, for once. It might be worth the fallout to see that. Somehow, I manage to keep my composure while Jessie finishes preparing.

By the time she’s ready for me to bring Paul back, I’m nervous as if I’m about to do the piercing myself. So far, I haven’t touched any of the clients except to offer a cool compress yesterday when a girl looked like she might faint. My job until now has been to fetch water, scan paperwork, check IDs, and watch quietly while the others do the actual work. I’ve learned more than I expectedto after just a couple of weeks, but I get the feeling my education is about to take a major leap forward. I don’t look in Corbin’s direction as I walk. He’s a distraction I don’t want right now.

“Paul?” I say with what I hope is a reassuring smile. “We’re ready for you.”

He stands and walks toward me, his expression as serene as if he were walking back to get his hair cut rather than his dick pierced. I’m not sure where his sense of calm comes from, but it’s admirable. He follows me into the room where Jessie’s waiting with a calm smile on her face. I close the door behind us and she gestures for Paul to have a seat on the table.

“I prefer to do these with the client lying down,” Jessie says. I realize her words are as much for my benefit as they are for Paul’s. “Less chance of anyone falling.”

I realize what she’s not saying. If the client is lying down, there’s less chance of them hitting the floor if they pass out. I’m guessing it’s happened before. I don’t ask though. I have enough tact to realize talking about the possibility of fainting in front of someone who’s about to have their dick pierced with a large needle is probably not the best idea. So, I nod my understanding as Paul moves to lie down. Jessie hands him a sheet.

“Pull everything down to your knees and cover up with that.”

Jessie takes this time to put on a pair of black nitrile gloves. I’m standing there, unsure of what I should be doing when she hands me a pair.

“In case I need another pair of hands,” she says.

I raise a brow, wondering what she might need my hands for, but I don’t say anything. I just nod and take the gloves from her. Once I’m gloved up, we both move closer to the table where Paul is lying.

“I’m going to be talking throughout the process,” she says. “This is for you and for my apprentice. Is that okay?”

Paul nods. “Sure.”

Jessie smiles. “The biggest possible complication when it comes to any piercing is typically infection. There’s a possibility of the body rejecting the piercing, but infection is the most pressing concern. Which means it’s incredibly important to make sure everything is clean. Including the part to be pierced. We use sterile needles and jewelry, obviously. And not that we don’t trust your cleanliness, Paul, but we’ll give the area a thorough cleaning prior to getting started.”

Paul just nods.

“I’m going to uncover you now and get started.”

He nods again.

I watch as Jessie lowers the sheet and I get an eyeful of Paul’s penis. There’s a small part of me that can’t help but stare. It’s not every day that I see a random man’s penis. But I also know I need to be professional. This is just another part of my job. I’m an artist and the human body is my canvas. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be called on to tattoo a penis one day. I can’t be squeamish about it, and I damned sure can’t be weird about it. So, no morestaring at Paul’s dick. I need to think of it clinically. It’s the only way.

I watch as Jessie washes and dries the area, explaining every step along the way. Not that it looks all that complicated. It’s just washing a dick. That seems simple enough. Not that I’ve ever washed one before. Great. Now I’m imagining washing dicks. Specifically, I’m imagining washing Corbin’s dick. I wonder what it would feel like in my hand. Is it large? Curved? Thick? He’s a big man, so I would imagine he’s proportional, though I know that’s not always the case. I realize Jessie is talking again and I shake off my pervy thoughts about my boss.

“I’m going to use a marker to indicate the entry and exit for the piercing,” she says.

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