DISCLAIMER
Tattoo Virgin is a work of fiction intended for adults 18 and older.
Any resemblance to persons alive or dead is purely coincidental.
Cover Images courtesy of: Ambro/FreeDigitalPhotos.net,
& Digital Art/FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Questions, Comments? I love feedback! Email me at [email protected]
You can also follow my blog at
http://cosettecallaway.blogspot.com
Also, please, please, please leave a review on Amazon!
Happy Reading!
:)
Tattoo Virgin
“So, Amy, what do you think?” He held out a flimsy, white piece of paper with a purple design inked on it, a design I would soon have on me forever. He leaned down a little to show me, his shoulder almost touching mine as we looked at the picture together. The design was large and would cover the entire right side of my ribs with a spindly, interlocking outline of jasmine flowers. It was beautiful, detailed, delicate: it was absolutely perfect.
I looked up at him, embarrassed as my pulse leapt from his proximity. “It’s wonderful.” If I sounded breathless it was because I was trying not to breathe. This close I could smell his faint cologne combined with his own warm, manly scent, and the effect was heady.
His name was Mike Ramirez, and hi s reputation preceded him. At 29 years old he was young to own a renowned tattoo parlor, but he was just that good. His work was careful, creative and stunning. And he also happened to be the single most beautiful man I had ever met, not that that had any bearing on his talent. He was tall, probably about six feet, I imagined, and his wide shoulders and lean muscled body were a testament to long hours spent in a gym. As his name suggested he was of Latin origin, most likely Mexican. When he spoke, his voice rich and commanding, there was just the smallest hint of an accent. He had beautiful, creamy brown skin and a full head of thick black hair. His most shocking feature, however, was his eyes. They were a pale green and stood out dramatically against his otherwise dark features.
It was a tribute to his talent that all I had heard about him was his reputation as an incredible tattoo artist, not how incredibly fucking sexy he was. Needless to say, when I had walked into his parlor a week ago I had been rendered nearly speechless. He was entirely professional however, not even smirking while I stammered what type of design I wanted and fought the spread of blush raising from my chest to my forehead. He was probably used to the reaction he elicited.
He smiled at my praise of the stencil but said, “You sure it’s what you want? No tweaks or anything? Don’t be afraid to tell me if there’s something you don’t like. It’s going to be on you for a long time.”
Damn , it was hard to concentrate when his eyes were looking directly at me. “No, no, I love the design,” I said, shaking my head. “Really, I couldn’t imagine it better.”
He smiled again. “All right then, let’s get started. Follow me.”
The parlor was one of the cleanest I had ever been in, with individual rooms that shut with sliding Japanese doors. His whole parlor had a Japanese theme, with Japanese art lining the crimson colored walls. The parlor was silent and I didn’t see any other tattoo artists, which I commented on.
“We’re not normally open on Wednesdays,” he said , leading me to a room at the end of the hall and slid the door shut behind him. I walked to the black leather padded chair dominating the space as Mike moved over to a tray sitting on a low cabinet running along the far wall where a series of paint caps and tattoo guns were aligned neatly. “I like to give everyone a day off, but sometimes we use it to catch up on our appointments. It’s been busy at the shop lately.”
I fidgeted with the stitching on the leather seat. I was completely alone with him in this parlor. The thought was not helping my
Tattoo Virgin is a work of fiction intended for adults 18 and older.
Any resemblance to persons alive or dead is purely coincidental.
Cover Images courtesy of: Ambro/FreeDigitalPhotos.net,
& Digital Art/FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Questions, Comments? I love feedback! Email me at [email protected]
You can also follow my blog at
http://cosettecallaway.blogspot.com
Also, please, please, please leave a review on Amazon!
Happy Reading!
:)
Tattoo Virgin
“So, Amy, what do you think?” He held out a flimsy, white piece of paper with a purple design inked on it, a design I would soon have on me forever. He leaned down a little to show me, his shoulder almost touching mine as we looked at the picture together. The design was large and would cover the entire right side of my ribs with a spindly, interlocking outline of jasmine flowers. It was beautiful, detailed, delicate: it was absolutely perfect.
I looked up at him, embarrassed as my pulse leapt from his proximity. “It’s wonderful.” If I sounded breathless it was because I was trying not to breathe. This close I could smell his faint cologne combined with his own warm, manly scent, and the effect was heady.
His name was Mike Ramirez, and hi s reputation preceded him. At 29 years old he was young to own a renowned tattoo parlor, but he was just that good. His work was careful, creative and stunning. And he also happened to be the single most beautiful man I had ever met, not that that had any bearing on his talent. He was tall, probably about six feet, I imagined, and his wide shoulders and lean muscled body were a testament to long hours spent in a gym. As his name suggested he was of Latin origin, most likely Mexican. When he spoke, his voice rich and commanding, there was just the smallest hint of an accent. He had beautiful, creamy brown skin and a full head of thick black hair. His most shocking feature, however, was his eyes. They were a pale green and stood out dramatically against his otherwise dark features.
It was a tribute to his talent that all I had heard about him was his reputation as an incredible tattoo artist, not how incredibly fucking sexy he was. Needless to say, when I had walked into his parlor a week ago I had been rendered nearly speechless. He was entirely professional however, not even smirking while I stammered what type of design I wanted and fought the spread of blush raising from my chest to my forehead. He was probably used to the reaction he elicited.
He smiled at my praise of the stencil but said, “You sure it’s what you want? No tweaks or anything? Don’t be afraid to tell me if there’s something you don’t like. It’s going to be on you for a long time.”
Damn , it was hard to concentrate when his eyes were looking directly at me. “No, no, I love the design,” I said, shaking my head. “Really, I couldn’t imagine it better.”
He smiled again. “All right then, let’s get started. Follow me.”
The parlor was one of the cleanest I had ever been in, with individual rooms that shut with sliding Japanese doors. His whole parlor had a Japanese theme, with Japanese art lining the crimson colored walls. The parlor was silent and I didn’t see any other tattoo artists, which I commented on.
“We’re not normally open on Wednesdays,” he said , leading me to a room at the end of the hall and slid the door shut behind him. I walked to the black leather padded chair dominating the space as Mike moved over to a tray sitting on a low cabinet running along the far wall where a series of paint caps and tattoo guns were aligned neatly. “I like to give everyone a day off, but sometimes we use it to catch up on our appointments. It’s been busy at the shop lately.”
I fidgeted with the stitching on the leather seat. I was completely alone with him in this parlor. The thought was not helping my
Similar Books
