Page 16 of The Stranger

“A tattoo? You want a tattoo?” he asks for what’s possibly the thousandth time in the last five minutes.

I sigh for the thousandth time. “Yes.”

“You sure this isn’t impulsive?”

“No! I thought about it for the past week.”

Tyler looks like he doesn’t believe me. He leans back in his seat and taps his fingers on the desk in front of him. “Okay. What kind of tattoo? Where?”

I slide my leggings down and point to where I want it. “There. A small one.”

“Your hip.” Tyler doesn’t take his eyes off my exposed skin, and it gives me the boost of courage I desperately need.

“My hip bone, to be exact.”

He nods. “That’s a pretty painful site, Maura. It’s sensitive because of the bone and nerve endings. You don’t have a lot of flesh there to cushion the needle, too. How high is your pain tolerance?”

“High. I once dislocated my shoulder when I was a kid, and I didn’t cry.”

Tyler pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales through his mouth. “Maura, do you really want this? Like in ten or twenty or thirty years, how possible is it for you to regret getting one?”

“None,” I say without hesitation. “It’s just a small one, Ty. Look.” I tap a photo on my phone and show it to him. “A watercolor crescent moon.”

“How small do you want this?”

“Two inches.”

“Do you want me to use topical anesthesia?”

I frown. “You don’t normally do that, right?”

“No, because it might affect how the tattoo looks, but I can’t risk hurting you.”

With a smile, I round his desk and prop a hip on one edge. “Please? I honestly want this.”

Tyler scrubs a hand across his face. “Fine. You want it now?”

“Yes!”

I’m starting to regret the decision fifteen minutes later when it feels like a thousand bees have been stinging my skin nonstop. It’s intense but not exactly unbearable. The sharp sting turns into a deep burning sensation, and I know my skin feels warm to the touch.

Tyler is ever the professional because he hovers over my pussy but doesn’t even try anything funny. I want him to.

The air is filled with the buzzing sound of the machine and soft music playing in the background. When the needle hits a particularly sensitive spot, I decide I need a distraction.

“This feels like that scene in Titanic?”

“What does?” Tyler asks, not lifting his gaze.

“This. You know, when Jack was painting Rose, and Rose was like, ‘You look so serious.’”

A ghost of a smile appears on his face, and I’m reminded of how ruggedly handsome he looks, especially with stubble. “Tell me if the pain is too much.”

“I can handle it.”

Can I, really? I want to ask for a quick break, but when I glance down, I see that he’s almost finished. Whoa. That was fast.

Half an hour more, and it’s done. Tyler takes a small mirror from his drawer and shows the finished product to me. Oh my God. It’s so beautiful, exactly how I pictured it in my head.

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