Overlooked(2)(135)

“I hope so.”

“Are you ready for me to look?”

My chest explodes with butterflies, and my entire body trembles but I force myself to nod.

Gabe tilts his head, his eyes examining me. It’s as though he can tell how I feel on the inside.

“Did I tell you about the different jewelry options?” he asks, letting go of my thighs. The heat from his hands disappears and I realize how badly I want them back on my body.

Twisting in his chair, he picks up two of the boxes that he took from under the counter. He passes me them one at a time.

“You can go for the ring or the barbell. For the vertical piercing it’s probably better for your goal if you use the barbell. Same with the horizontal piercing. But most women who get the triangle go for the ring. We can hold these up and you can look in the mirror to see which you like best.”

“I don’t think I need to look in the mirror,” I say, shaking my head.

Gabe laughs again, and says, “Okay, but you’re going to be wearing these all the time. Are you sure you don’t want to know what they will look like?”

“I’m not doing this for aesthetics. Straight or curved makes no difference to me. These ones have pretty jewels on them, that’s good enough.”

“Suit yourself, Jewel,” he says, shrugging.

“If I have a choice, I like the ring best.”

“What would be best is if you can have the ring as a triangle piercing. Do you want me to have a look now?”

“Yes,” I say, more confident than before.

Gabe takes the jewelry samples from my hands and sets them back on his table.

He turns back in his chair to face me. My heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my ribs. I don’t know whether to lift my skirt. Does he do that? Maybe he can use it as a tent so I don’t have to see him while he’s looking at me.

The hem of my skirt reaches my shins, and I can’t reach it gracefully.

Without saying anything, Gabe places his gloved hands on my exposed calves. My heart leaps at his touch. I take a deep breath to try to calm myself.

His hands glide up my legs, pushing my skirt higher as they go. The pressure is gentle but firm, and leaves a trail of tingles in its wake.

His eyes follow his hands as they travel up my legs. The hem of my skirt flips over my knees. Inch by inch, my thighs are exposed.

The skirt hem reaches the tops of my thighs, and I’m sure he can see everything from where he’s sitting.

“Slide your ass down a bit,” he says.

I do as Gabe instructs, and the motion causes my knees to lift. He nudges my legs further apart, and I feel like I’m about to have an examination from the baddest doctor ever.

Gabe flicks his eyes up to mine, and for a moment we simply stare into each other. When the intensity of his gaze becomes too much, I chew on my bottom lip.

He gives my thighs a squeeze and lets go. Breaking our eye contact, he angles his head down and pushes the hem of my skirt up around my waist.

Leaning my head back into the chair, I look up at the ceiling and pretend I’m elsewhere. I want to think about reading a book on a beach. Instead, all I can think of is the feel of Gabe’s hands on my thighs.

Taking a deep breath, I wait for him to touch me again.

“Nice,” he says, though it seems he’s talking to himself and not to me.

His fingers make contact with my lips, and a thousand volts of electricity blast through me. My breath grows heavy.

This is ridiculous. I have to calm myself. Gabe’s being a professional, and I need to be as well. It’s absurd that my body is reacting this way.

Gabe gently pokes at me. His index finger runs up between my lips until he reaches the skin around my clit. With two fingers, he pulls back my hood, exposing my clit.

As he touches it, my walls flood and I inwardly thank him for putting down the towel. I tell myself this is a normal reaction, and it must happen every time he does this.

“So a vertical piercing would sit this way over your clit,” he says, tracing a vertical line with his finger. “And a horizontal like this.”

Unexpectedly, a deep moan escapes my throat, and I immediately blaze scarlet from head to toe. Other than my redness, I struggle to care about anything other than Gabe’s fingers.

“Eloise,” Gabe says, his voice sharp, and I realize he’s been talking to me.

“Yeah?” I say, my voice far too breathy to retain any dignity.

“Good news, it looks like you should be able to get the triangle piercing, but I’m going to make sure. Are you ready?”

I nod.

With his thumb and index finger, he pinches the skin underneath my clit.

“The triangle sits behind the clit, at its base. The piercing will rub up against it from behind, like this.” Gabe rubs his fingers together, simulating where the piercing would rub.