He winces. "Doesn't get much worse than ribs."
"It doesn't," I agree.
She looks up at me. "I know. But... I... I think that's perfect. Let's see it."
I nod and lead her into the suite in back. Away from the window.
She slides her dress to her waist, unhooks her bra, and holds it in place.
I'm careful about applying the temporary tattoo at the perfect spot.
She's already shaking. But it's good shaking. Excitement.
"There." I peel the paper from her skin.
Her eyes go wide as she turns to the mirror. "It's perfect."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I am."
It is perfect.
Serva me, Servabo te.
Save me and I'll save you.
She hugs her chest. "Oh God. It's going to hurt a lot." She bites her lip. "What if I can't handle it?"
"You can," I say.
"What if I chicken out with just an s on my skin?"
"You won't." I stare back into her eyes. "You've survived a lot worse than a ten-minute rib tattoo."
She nods.
"Everyone is scared to get their first piece."
"You were?"
I nod. "Of course."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but I couldn't admit it. All that macho pride shit."
She laughs. "I can admit it. I'm... it's really going to hurt?"
Again, I nod.
"But I... I can handle it. I think." She motions to her bra pressed against her chest. "Can we do something about this?"
"Here." I take in the rest of the shop. Walker is still at the counter. He's making a point of not looking at us.
It's surprisingly sweet. But then he's been different lately. Ever since he switched from bringing home a different girl every night to a regular fuck buddy.
He insists I'm imagining things, but I'm not.