Overlooked(2)(132)

For the next three hours, I alternate pacing around my apartment with futile attempts at reading my book.

By the time I get in my car and drive to the tattoo parlor, I’m so nervous that even my toes are filled with butterflies.

I manage to park my Ford Focus right in front of the door. As I turn off the engine, I stare up at the Incredible Ink sign. I don’t know what to expect inside.

Part of me wishes I’d brought Sophie with me. But I could never explain why I’m here to her. At least not while keeping any of my dignity.

It’s okay, I keep telling myself. The person who works here is another woman. One who’s experienced my problem. I have nothing to feel scared or awkward about.

I take a deep breath, and step out of my car. Without breaking my stride, I push open the tattoo parlor door and step inside.

It’s empty.

The walls are covered with what I assume are tattoo designs. A black counter juts into the room. An opening is in the center of the back wall through to another room.

“Hello?” I call, moving towards the counter.

No one answers and I stand awkwardly, wondering what to do. On the counter is a small case of jewelry for piercings, and I stare into it.

Most of the jewelry is heavy and manly, but there are few pieces with jewels and pretty shapes.

“Coming,” a man says from the other room, his low voice gravelly.

I look up to see him emerging from the opening in the back wall. He’s pulling a T-shirt on over his head, and the first thing I see are his washboard abs, framed by a deep V. My eyes flick around taking in the rest of him while his T-shirt covers his face. Tattoos cover his strong chest and arms. Both of his nipples are pierced.

I don’t know whether to be scared or turned on.

My breath quickens and heat blooms through me, but my brain tries to calm my anxiety.

He’s definitely got the best body I’ve ever seen, and I say that as a physiotherapist who deals with bodies for a living. But all those heavy tattoos that coat his muscles make me wonder what kind of person he is.

As he pulls his shirt down and reveals his face, he catches me staring at him and smirks. My cheeks burn, but I can’t look away from his scruff-covered jaw and piercing brown eyes.

“I’m looking for Kaylee,” I say.

“You’re Eloise Hutchinson and you’re here for the genital piercing to help you orgasm.”

My heart stops and my eyes widen in horror. How did he say that so casually?

“Yes, I’m looking for Kaylee.”

“Kaylee’s gone. I’m Gabe, and I’m going to do it for you.”

My body freezes and I can’t speak. He holds my eyes in his, and I’m filled with a mix of fear and amazement.

No, not fear. Uncertainty and discomfort. Intimidation at being alone with a heavily tattooed, pierced man. In a tattoo parlor, of all places. Even though he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, and my body is betraying my brain.

“Don’t worry, I’m very professional,” Gabe says, his voice somehow deeper and more gravelly than before.

“I can come back when Kaylee’s here.”

“Kaylee isn’t coming back.”

“What happened to Kaylee?”

“Does it matter? I said she wasn’t coming back.”

“Oh,” I say, confused. “Do you have any other female piercers?”

“Nope.”

“I think I’ll feel more comfortable going somewhere with a female piercer.”

“Not in this town. There aren’t any.”

“Maybe I’ll have to drive somewhere then. Buffalo?”

“Could be a sore drive back.”

“I don’t think I can do this. Is it even safe for me to be here with you? Alone?”

“I told you, I’m a professional. This is my job, and I’d never do anything to risk the business I’ve humped my ass to build. You don’t need to feel awkward. I’ve done tons of clitoral hood piercings.” Gabe’s eyes bore into mine as he says the word clitoral, and I flinch.

Turning my head, I look at the jewelry case. I don’t know what to do. Can I go through with taking off my panties and letting a strange man touch me, pierce me, in my most intimate place?

“I need more time to think about this,” I say.

Before he has the chance to say anything else, I turn and move towards the door. I grab the handle and open the door.

“Just promise me you won’t go to that jackass at Hell in a Needle,” he says. “I’d hate for him to do a botch job on a nice girl like you.”

I turn back to him. Once again my heart pauses at the sight of him. “Don’t worry. There is no chance of me going someplace called Hell in a Needle.”

He smirks, and says, “I can do it with my eyes closed, if you prefer.”