Page 4 of Chic Steel

He came back a week later, and since then yearly for a piercing and occasionally to get his jewellery changed. Always at the beginning of spring. For the past four years.

Except this year.

This year he’s late.

I put the brownies away and wash my hands, taking steadying breaths. If he wants another piercing, I can’t be shaky. He’ll notice, and it’s never a good thing trying to shove a needle into someone with trembling hands. Besides, what if he asks why I’m shaking? How would I respond?

Don’t worry Oliver, it’s because of you and your cologne and how excited I am to see you and also, why haven’t I seen you in over six months? Not even for a measly jewellery change.

That’d go down well with customer satisfaction.

I adjust the teal headband holding back my cropped hair and march towards room three. God, I hope he wants a jewellery change. I can’t handle piercing his penis again.

To get the right placement for a Jacob’s ladder, you need to be erect.

Which means he comes in every year to add to the ladder, and I have to hold his erect dick while being professional. Not that there’s anything sexy about piercing someone, but it’sOliver. And I get to touch him and see the way he reacts to my glove-covered hands.

I have to place the markings to see if he likes them, wait for him to soften, which isn’t always quick like it is with other clients, surprisingly, and then double check the placement before I pierce him.

But nothing will ever happen. This is his fifth year coming here, and I doubt he’d want to date the woman who puts metal through his skin.

Time to face the music.

I breathe deeply and open the door to room three. And there he is.

He’s wearing his usual uniform. Business suit with a coloured shirt underneath instead of the traditional white. Today it’s a dark blue and I shiver, imagining we co-ordinated the blue in our outfits.

If Lily could hear my pathetic thoughts, I’d never live it down.

“Hey, Oliver. Back for another?” I ask, heading to the left where we keep the equipment.

“A jewellery change today, please.”

I bite my lip to keep in my sigh. His voice is deep and rough, and he talks softly but commands your attention. I don’t know how he does it, but every time he talks, I want to hear more. Probably has something to do with whatever business he’s in. I’ve never seen him out of a suit. Meanwhile, I’m always in jeans and a tank top, unless it’s winter and I’m forced to wear jumpers. I own a jumper in the exact shade of his eyes and whenever I wear it, I think of him.

“No worries. What are we changing?”

“The nipple.” His blue eyes meet mine, intense and focused. Always holding eye contact, never glancing around like I do. His sole focus on me.

I swallow hard. Good, just a jewellery change and I don’t have to face hisdelicateareas. “Sweet. What were you thinking? You still have the hoop in?”

“What do you wear?”

I stare at him, and my mouth goes dry. His eyes don’t drift down to my chest like most people’s do, but stay focused on my face. Even if he isn’t currently looking, he clearly knows my nipples are pierced if he’s asking what jewellery I have in them. He probably knows what I wear in them. They’re pressingagainst my top and you can see the outline of the barbells. Currently, with adorable cherry ends on them.

“Barbells.” I’m incapable of giving more information. My years of customer service better come forward soon to give him the different options we have. I can’t stand and stare at him, wondering why he wants to know what jewellery I have in my nipples and if he’d ever lick them. I shake myself.

“Gold or surgical steel?”

“Titanium. With cherries,” I manage to say.

The left side of his lip curves up. “Maybe not the cherries.”

Is he making a joke? Did he make a joke about my nipple piercings?

“You don’t want something fun?”

“If I did, what would you choose?” he asks, hands crossing over his chest.

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