A Matter of Trust: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance

“Well, hopefully one day you will let me work my talents on you,” Lexx said and Morgan was one-hundred percent certain that she was meant to realize Lexx was implying something other than tattooing her skin.

“Dude, you coming?”

This came from Chloë, calling out from the back of the studio, at Sienna’s workstation.

Morgan looked at Lexx.

“Is it okay, if I…?”

“Of course! That’s totally up to Chloë and if she wants you there, then by all means. Besides, I like the idea of the noob having an audience other than me. It’ll teach her to focus.”

Sienna’s workstation was neat, organized, perfect. Gleaming stainless-steel counters on top of which were various plastic boxes and trays surrounded the all-important chair, and perched on a stool next to the chair, was Sienna her hands encased in blue plastic gloves like those worn at medical offices. In her right hand, she was holding what looked like a torture device from a movie like Barbarella.

But what made Morgan’s mouth go dry; what made her heart rate increase alarmingly; what made her lick her lips and wonder if somehow, some way, her consciousness had been transferred into someone else’s body, was Chloë.

By now, Chloë was up on the tattooist’s chair, which was configured so that she could recline on it with her legs out in front of her. The back of the chair was raised enough so that she wasn’t completely flat and could thus presumably watch while Sienna worked.

She was laying on her left side and her high-heel-clad feet were crossed at the ankles. And such beautiful ankles, Morgan noticed.

Because Chloë was getting her tattoo on her hip, naturally her dress had to be raised up to reveal the target area, which now bore a stenciled outline which Sienna had just applied.

And because Chloë’s dress was pulled up, Chloë’s entire leg was on display, all the way up to the cotton candy pink high-cut panties she was wearing. Though Chloë had been careful to bunch the fabric of her dress between her legs in order to provide some modesty, she hadn’t taken the same precaution at her back and so Morgan was treated to how Chloë’s panties covered her beautifully curved ass in such sexy and tight-fitting lace that it made Morgan almost gasp, and she just knew instinctively that Chloë’s bra matched. Where that thought had come from, she had no idea but what she did know was that she would now give her eye teeth to see that bra too.

The skin of Chloë’s hip was flawless supple alabaster and that cotton candy pink was the perfect complement to it. A tiny mole was the only mark Morgan could see and though tiny was like a magnet, competing with the panties for the attention of Morgan’s eyes.

A desire Morgan had never before experienced suddenly washed over her and she felt it pooling between her legs. There was no mistaking it. She was wet.

She wondered how on earth was she supposed to sit here and watch Chloë get this tattoo when all she wanted to do right now was push Sienna away and run her tongue up the length of Chloë’s leg from those perfect ankles up to the edge of those panties.

“Excuse me for a moment, ladies,” she said. “Lexx? Restroom?”

“Yeah, just go around the corner there,” Lexx said, indicating the way. Morgan promised Chloë she’d be right back and then hurried off. Inside the tiny bathroom, Morgan wet a paper towel with cold water and then dabbed it along her neck to try to tame the flushness which had overcome her. In a moment, she felt some drops trickle down from the hollow of her throat and roll between her breasts, which only served to make matters worse because the water was quite cold and now her nipples hardened in response. She groaned at the sensation and closed her eyes, trying to get a grip.

Finally, she opened her eyes, looked in the mirror and said out loud to her reflection, “I fucking need to get laid.”

Chapter 9

The next morning, Chloë was standing nude in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, getting a good look at her new ink. The clear protective patch was still on it and would be for several days but Chloë could still see the image nicely.

Chloë smiled. Sienna had done a great job with the tattoo, giving Chloë exactly what she wanted. The sketch Sienna had come up with had been colorful and dramatic and it translated well into this work of art now on Chloë’s skin.

“How’s it looking?” Sienna said, coming back upstairs to the loft bedroom after taking a shower downstairs. She was wrapped in a white towel, her hair still damp and it was as if she brought a fragrant cloud of flowers and vanilla with her. Approaching Chloë, Sienna knelt down at her side and inspected the still healing skin up close. Chloë considered how beneficial it was in this case to have a friend-with-benefits who was also her tattooist.

“It looks great,” Sienna assessed. “I think it’s going to heal fine. How does it feel?”

“Sore but nothing out of the ordinary. Seriously, though, dude, you rocked this tat! I’m, like, so happy and so impressed with your skills.”

Sienna planted a quick kiss on Chloë’s ass and then stood and smiled sheepishly at her friend. Her face was beet red from blushing.

“Thanks. I was super nervous. Oh, and sorry about last night,” she added. “In my lust for you I forgot about your wound.”

Chloë giggled, remembering. Sienna had come by after she was done at the shop late last night and during their sexual fun, at one point had rolled over onto Chloë’s just-tattooed hip, causing her very first paying client to yelp in pain.

“No worries, dude,” Chloë said. “You made it up to me other ways.”

Sienna went to sit on the edge of the bed. From her open duffel bag at the foot of the bed, she began extracting clean clothing.

“So, what did you and the sexy schoolteacher do after you left the shop?” she asked.