I nod, taking a fortifying breath. I pull my shirt over my head, then slide my bra straps down my arms and reach behind me to free the clasp of my bra, letting it fall into my lap. My nipples tighten painfully, as if they know what’s coming.
“You have perfect nipples,” he remarks.
“Um.” I don’t know what to say to that.
“For piercing,” he amends. “They’re proportionate and not flat, so they’ll look great.”
“Okay.”
He leans in close, inspecting me, and I try my hardest not to fidget as his fingertips pull slightly on the tip. “I’m thinking we’ll go with a fourteen gauge since they’re pretty small. I’ll leave the bar a bit longer to accommodate the swelling, but you can change it once you’re healed.”
“How long will that take?”
Nate lifts a shoulder. “It’s hard to say. As far as pain, you’ll hurt tonight, and they’ll be tender for a couple of weeks. No playing—” he says with air quotes, making his meaning clear— “for four to six months.”
Wow. That’s a lot longer than I would’ve guessed. But it still doesn’t sway me.
“Ready?”
“Yep.”
Nate stands and does something at the small counter on the opposite side of the room and returns with gloved hands holding white gauze.
“To sterilize,” he explains. “It’s going to feel cold.”
He swipes the cold liquid across my right one first, causing me to shiver. He repeats the motion to the other side, and then he’s turning for the counter once more. When he turns back around, he has some sort of metal device in his hands, and I feel my eyes go wide.
“Relax, it’s just a clamp. Are you the need-to-know-every-step kind of girl? Or just get-it-over-with-as-soon-as-possible girl?”
“Definitely the latter. Just tell me when it’s coming.”
“Deal.” He sets the torture device down onto the tray and plucks a thin, purple Sharpie out of his pocket, biting the cap off with his teeth. His brows furrow in concentration as he dips hi
s head down to get a closer look. He’s so close that I can feel his breath on my skin as he flicks my nipple with the tip of his finger. He draws a small dot on one side of my nipple, then one more on the opposite side. He repeats the motion to the other one, then leans back, inspecting.
“Look even to you?” he asks, handing me a mirror.
I give a quick look, uncomfortable seeing the reflection of my bare chest even though I’ve been topless in front of him this whole time. “Mhm.”
“Lie back.”
I do as he says, bringing the backs of my hands over my eyes as my back hits the table. I hear him rustling around, and then feel cool metal against my skin.
“This is just the clamp,” he clarifies. I feel my nipple being pinched, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s just uncomfortable. “Okay, now take a deep breath for me, Shayne,” he instructs, his voice smooth as velvet, but it doesn’t do much to comfort me.
I inhale deeply, filling my lungs, and when I release it, hot, sharp pain sears through me. I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut tighter, and my hands fly down to my sides, digging my fingernails into the leather seat.
“Good girl,” he praises. “The needle is through. I’m just feeding the barbell through now.”
“Don’t say needle,” I manage to grind out, only half-joking. I feel like I’m going to throw up. My entire body is trembling.
“One more to go.”
It’s the same process for the other side, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m expecting it, but I swear it hurts more. The pain is intense, but it’s over mercifully quick. Once the initial pain fades, it morphs into a duller, throbbing sensation.
“Breathe,” Nate instructs. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath. I focus on taking slow, deep breaths, doing my best to ignore whatever it is he’s doing. Screwing the ball onto the barbell, if I had to guess.
“All done,” Nate announces, helping me to sit up, one hand holding mine, and the other between my shoulder blades. I look down to assess the damage, but I’m pleasantly surprised with what I see. A small, horizontal, silver barbell decorates each nipple, and there isn’t even a drop of blood.