Yeah, I needed to be careful and approach this gently.
With her top still scrunched up under her tits, she turned to the side and eyed it. “It’s perfect. Do you think the ink for the waves will take okay? I looked it up, and it said that black was a better choice for covering things up.”
“It’ll be just fine, and if you’re good enough at doing tattoos, color works just as well as black does on scars. It’s all about their age and how they cope with the pigment we’re putting into the new skin. Older scars are tougher, so it takes better. If you’re having a tattoo covered up, though, that can sometimes be problematic if it’s all black and like a block of the color.”
Staring at me in the reflection of the mirror, her cheeks turned pink. “I was addicted to a show a long time ago about tattoo artists who fix or cover up bad tattoos, so I’ve seen the sort of things they had to work on. It’s crazy the kind of stuff people have done and the mistakes that can happen.”
Patting the top of the table to get her to come back, I got up to put the original art on the clipboard suspended above the table. Then, turning to the small drawer unit that held my inks, I opened them to show her what I had.
“What kind of colors do you want the waves? If there are any specific shades you have in mind, we can always mix it ourselves.”
Hopping back up, she swung her legs as she thought about it. The act was sweet given how closed off she’d been previously, and I could only hope she was feeling more relaxed around me. Relaxation came from trust, and even though it’d only been a matter of minutes, that trust meant a lot to me.
“I think—if it’s possible—dark blue bleeding into a more turquoise shade, with pale blue near the tip of the wave. If it wouldn’t look too bad, though, I’d like the very tips to be shaded in slightly with black or gray instead of being left white. I want it to look like the you can see the birds that are actually in there and launching themselves free to escape it.”
Knowing what she meant, I nodded as I poured out some black ink into a pot. “I can do that, not a problem.” After she’d chosen specific shades of the colors she wanted, I added them to the other pots and got a new needle out. “I’m going to tape your top up, so you don’t have to keep holding it, and then I’ll get to work.”
I kept her updated through all of the prep work, even when I got up to wash my hands again before putting gloves on, just to make sure she wasn’t scared by any sudden moves or taken off guard. I was always vigilant, but it was even worse with her.
Once everything was done, and I was about to start, I picked up the machine and dipped it into the black ink. “Outline goes on first, and then I’ll start on shading and adding color. I’m going to warn you,” I added, squeezing her arm gently, “it’s going to feel very different to when you had the tattoo on your wrist.”
Half of her mouth kicked up in a smile, and I froze in place at the shock of it. She was beautiful before, but the innocent yet amused expression made her outstanding.
It also made a slew of memories slam into me from high school. Sienna Blake, I remembered who she was now. She’d had the desk next to mine in art class, she’d also been in my homeroom from seventh grade, and I was fairly certain we’d had other classes together. She’d had long hair back then, almost down to her ass if I remembered correctly, and she’d always worn it in either a ponytail or a braid.
I was so caught up in it that I didn’t hear what she’d said until she stopped talking.
“What?”
“I said, I know it’s going to hurt, and not to worry about it. I’m tougher than I look.”
To go through what she had, she’d have had to be.
As I pressed the needle against her skin, I kicked myself in the ass mentally for having to cause her pain. It made no sense because she wanted and needed this tattoo, but still. I was normally more rational than this, but everything about Sienna Blake had me off balance.
And I kinda liked it. A lot.
About ten minutes into it, she said, “I’m not fragile, you know. You can ask me as many questions as you want.”
Lifting the needle off her skin, I straightened up and looked at her. “Are you sure? No, wait, first question—do you have any triggers that me avoiding would make this easier for you? I should have asked that before I started, I’m sorry.”