Page 19 of Gunner

Indie gave me a look of exasperated arrogance and I conceded.

“Ok, you’re right. I am the one more likely to be attacked while you save my ass.”

We shared a laugh and moved into the kitchen.

“Ok, so do you want to eat first or pierce first?”

“The pizza won’t be here for forty-five minutes, so what do you think? Do we have time to get everything done and put away before the guy knocks on the door?”

“That is more than enough time. How sturdy is your kitchen table?”

“My table?” I turn to look at my kitchen. “I thought we would do it in my room.”

“We need a firm surface.”

“Ok, kitchen table it is, I guess.”

Indie followed quietly behind me.

I wondered if she could hear my thoughts screaming in my head. Telling me this was a bad idea. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t adventurous by nature, but I knew I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t follow through.

“Take off your sweats and panties and lie down on the table.”

I felt a flush start at my toes, and rush past my hands as it traveled up my legs, coinciding with the sweats that made their descent toward my feet.

I climbed up onto my kitchen table, thinking I may never be able to eat there again.

“Lay back and scoot forward to the edge like you’re at the doctor’s office.”

Doing as I was told, I then took a deep breath and chanced a glance at Indie as she stood between my legs.

“Ready?” she asked with a sly grin.

“Please just hurry and do it before I lose my nerve.”

I closed my eyes when I heard the snap of the glove she had pulled on her hands.

“Just a swipe with the alcohol wipe.”

“Um, I’m not sure I need a narration,” I told her.

I wasn’t sure which was worse, the anticipation of knowing what she was about to do or not knowing when she was going to do it.

“I’ve found it is better for clients to know what I am doing and when. If you know when I am going to insert the needle, it’s less likely you will jump and it will go in wrong.”

“Go in wrong?” I lifted my head and glared at my new friend.

A friend that had already been more intimate with me than Missy, who I lived with for eight years.

“Relax, Haiz, I know what I’m doing. Lie back and try not to tense up. It will only take a second,” Indie calmly advised, then added, “Ok, I am going to use a Q-tip and a toothpick to mark the spot and then use a mirror so you can see where it is going to be.”

The feeling of someone poking around down there was a little unnerving.

“Ok, take a look.”

Indie held a mirror, and I looked at my hoo-hah.

I felt a little like Kathy Bates inFried Green Tomatoesin that one scene where she was instructed to examine herself with a mirror in front of a room full of women.

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