Zayden lifts the wipe up and cleans a spot on my left brow with the cool feeling of alcohol, pulling back and tossing the little square into the can between the toilet and the sink. Once he's done that, he stares at me for another few seconds, like he's really taking this seriously. I like that about him. He's a goofy guy, someone that likes to have fun, but he takes the things that matter and he actually applies himself. Whether it's being a nanny or a body piercer … or introducing a girl to her first sexual experience, I can tell he really gives it all he's got.
“Sixteen gauge,” Zayden mumbles to himself, heading back to the kit. “You can change the jewelry in about six months, but for now, we're going with medical grade stainless steel.” I nod and watch as he opens up a package with a silver bar inside it and lays it on top of its package on the counter. Next he opens up a new needle and a package with a little wooden toothpick thing inside of it. It has a purple dye on the end and I can't figure out what it's for until Zay comes back and puts the jewelry to my face, using the dye to mark an entry and exit point.
“Alright, Smarty-Pants,” he says as he stands up and steps into the doorway of the bathroom, using his hand to indicate the mirror. “Check it out and tell me what you think. And don't be shy, baby, tell me if you don't like it.”
I stand up and tuck some hair behind my ear, my eyes straying to Zayden in his sexy black gloves. I love the way they cut across his tattoos, emphasize the brightness with all of that latex as contrast. He notices my gaze lingering and wiggles the fingers of his right hand.
“You like these, I take it? Some people have a fetish for 'em.”
“What about you?” I ask, deflecting the question as I lean in and examine the proposed placement for my piercing. It looks perfect, balanced at just the right spot on my eyebrow, which is basically what I expected. I can't imagine Zayden failing at something he's obviously so passionate about. “Do you have that fetish?”
“A little bit,” he purrs, leaning in and breathing against my ear. To keep things sterile, he makes sure his gloves are nowhere near me. It's kind of sexy, knowing he couldn't touch me even if he wanted to. “I'd like to touch you all over with these, slide 'em into the pink perfection of your pussy.”
“Look at you and your alliteration,” I joke with a hot flush, retreating away to sit on the lid of the toilet again. “So clever.”
“Not near as clever as you,” he says as he tosses the toothpick thing and picks up a pair of what look like tongs. “You with your bachelor's in statistics and all. I barely graduated high school.”
“And yet I'm still working as a stripper,” I say, and I hate how bitter that sounds. I don't want to be that person, lamenting all of the awful things in their life. Yeah, sometimes life sucks, but it's just like the shadows in a painting: there are always highlights to offset all that darkness. “At least when I get my master's, I should be able to get my dream job.”
“Which is?” Zayden asks as he positions himself in front of me, his tongue sticking out slightly to the side as he concentrates on what he's doing. He massages my brow with his thumb and forefinger for a few seconds and then uses the tongs to pinch my skin so that it's sticking out.
“I want to work for the CDC,” I say and he makes an impressed sound in the back of his sexy throat. I study his tattoos, realizing that I've never taken note of the words under his right ear. In a fine black script, the phrase In Head and Heart is written out. I wonder what it means? “I don't really care where, but I'd like to analyze data on diseases that pose a risk to public health.”
“Sounds hella fancy,” he says as he smiles at me and I feel my heart flutter. Being this close to him is like a drug, like each breath we share in this small room brings us closer, drags me inexorably into this man's arms. Not good. I want to look away, but I can't because he's bringing a needle up to my face and pressing it against my skin. “And important, too. Instead of being a useless waste of life like yours truly, it sounds like you're going places, Brooke Overland. Now suck in a deep breath.”
I pull air into my lungs and then start to panic. Wow. This is actually happening, isn't it?
Before I can get myself together enough to protest, Zayden's telling me, “breathe out.”
I do, and then the pain of the needle is slicing through me, hot and sharp and sudden. It happens too quick for me to cry out, and then Zayden's standing up and grabbing the jewelry from its spot on the counter.
“See? Not so bad,” he coos and I feel myself smiling again. That voice must work on all his clients; it's definitely working on me.