INKED 8: A Tattoo Shop Reverse Harem

“Give me the paper,” I say.

Dex hands me a small piece of white paper and a black pen, and I quickly scratch out the details of my date and desires in my curly cursive. Folding it, I hand it back, to be met by Dex’s dark eyebrow arched with interest. “That was quick.”

“That’ll be the only thing that will be.”

My quip is met by some low chuckles from the rest. “And this is a competition?”

“Yep,” Dex says. “That part of it is to ensure that Kyla has the best time through this whole process. At the end, she’s gonna vote on her favorite experience. So make it good.”

“I always do,” I laugh. “So, have you guys put your dates down onto paper?”

“I have,” Dex says. “And Lex. Can you give these to the rest?”

“Sure,” I say. Taking the paper from Dex, I duck out of the office and back into the shop. The music is pounding loudly, and the sound of the machinery rumbles in the background. Kase is working on a man’s shoulder when I pop into his booth. “It’s on,” I say. “Here’s your paper. Name, date, and kink.”

“Sounds interesting,” the customer says.

Kase rolls his eyes. “You have no idea!”

In the next booth, Noah and Niall are talking. “Here. Write down your name, date idea, and kink, then give it to Dex.”

“It’s on?” Noah’s slow smile has a wolfish or sharklike quality to it. Out of all of us, he’s had the biggest boner for Kyla. Or biggest visible boner, in a metaphorical sense.

“It’s on. Where’s your brother?”

“He’s piercing nipples, so maybe leave his paper here, and I’ll give it to him.”

“Nice,” I say.

And that’s it.

My cock stirs in my jeans; the prospect of being let loose on Kyla’s curves already sending heat through me.

She’s sitting at reception, staring at the screen of her computer but she loses concentration when I lumber toward her. “I’m going out to get lunch,” I say. “Would you like something from the deli on the corner?”

“Sure, that would be great. They do an awesome soft cheese and smoked salmon bagel. And an iced tea?”

“Sounds good.”

Kyla reaches beneath the desk for her purse, by I wave my hand. “Don’t worry about it,” I say.

As I push the door to Ink Factor open, I have to squint against the brightness of the sun’s warm rays. The walk to Mike’s Deli is short, taking me past the florist and the coffee shop where Kyla used to work.

“Hang on, Kole,” I hear, and when I turn, Kyla’s there, clutching her purse.

I watch her rushing toward me, taking in the pretty swish of her chestnut hair as it swings around her neck, already wondering what it’ll feel like to slide my fingers into the warmth of her nape and tip her face to mine.

“I need to get some fresh air,” she says. “To clear my mind. So many spreadsheets, I’m starting to see squares floating in front of my eyes.”

“Spreadsheets definitely aren’t my thing,” I say. “Give me a patch of blank skin and a tattoo gun any day.”

“I wouldn’t have a clue where to start,” she says.

We carry on to the deli, walking side by side, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees settling my soul. I haven’t had time to get to the gym this week, and my fists itch for the thud of the punchbag. My palms, on the other hand, are itching to slide over Kyla’s curves. The rest of me is hungry to take her to places she’s never been before.

“I think we all have it in us to be creative. All kids love to draw, and they do it without fear of judgment. They relish getting their hands dirty and are happy to represent the world in ways that don’t match what they’re seeing. It’s when we become conscious of others that we lose that ability. We judge our creative skills against other people’s. We want to be perfect. So many people stop being creative before they’ve ever had a chance to find out what they’re capable of. Creativity should never be about what others think. It’s something that comes directly from inside you. Enjoying the process is the main thing. If you forget about the end result, you’ll try, and then learn, and over time you’ll become more satisfied with your abilities.”

“You know, I never thought of it that way,” Kyla says. “I just always felt that my drawings were amateur compared to my friends’. I used to get embarrassed to present my art in class. As soon as I could give up drawing and painting, I did.”

“If you don’t like drawing and painting, you could try sculpture or collage.”

“What’s collage? Like, cutting up bits of magazines?”

“It’s about using paper, fabric, photographs, images, textures to create something.”

“That actually sounds like fun.”