Tattoo Virgin by Cosette Callaway Page B

could feel myself getting wetter. “It doesn’t really bother me,” I said. “It’s almost soothing.”
    He laughed. “That’s not what most people seem to think. Especially on the ribs.” I said nothing, just continued t o watch the koi flex and dance. After another few minutes he spoke again. “I’m always curious why people pick their tattoos. Why the jasmine flower?”
    I blushed again. “Well, it’s kind of silly,” I said.
    He raised his head, his stunning green eyes on me. “Try me.”
    “Um, well, you know how different flowers have different meanings, right?” He nodded his head. “Well, the jasmine flower has a few different meanings. To some it represents nobility, grace and elegance. Things like modesty and kindness.” He nodded again, still focusing on the tattoo. “But the flower can also represent beauty, deep affection, and, well, s-sensuality.” He paused for a second, his eyes locking on mine, before resuming his work. I felt flush, embarrassed to continue, but I pressed forward anyway. “And the thing about the jasmine flower is that it blooms at night. Almost like in secret.”
    Mike was silent for a moment. “So you’re saying you’re like the jasmine flower?”  
    I don’t know why I continued. Something was making me bold, or at least a little reckless. “Yeah,” I said softly. “Kind of. Like, people have always seen me as this delicate little thing, you know, like how most people see the jasmine flower. I’m elegant, modest, kind. But, I’m sick of being seen just like that. I’m sick of being just that. I feel like I’ve always had this secret side to me that no one sees. So I’m getting it tattooed on me so everyone can see.”
    “That makes sense,” he said. “But why do people see you that way?” By this point he was working on the lower half of the tattoo, pressing his free hand lightly on my stomach.
    I hesitated before answering. “I just always have been. I was never a rebellious kid. I was a straight A student, I still am. F ull scholarship and all that. I’ve just always played it safe.”
    “But not anymore?” His head was angled near my hip bone and I could feel his warm breath puff across it lightly as he worked. I swallowed thickly and my pussy throbbed.
    I smiled. “No, not anymore.”
    We were both silent as he continued to work, and I drifted to the combined sounds of the guitar music and the tattoo gun. After about twenty minutes he spoke up again.
    “You know, I just can’t picture you being the shy girl.” He paused. “I mean, I can picture it, obviously, you’re a bundle of nerves, but I don’t get it.”
    I felt embarrassed. “What do you mean?”
    He was silent for a second, as if weighing what he was going to say. “Look,” he said and then stopped again. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re hot.”
    I felt my face flush. “What?”
    He gestured to me with his left hand impatiently. “ Chica , you know you’re gorgeous, ok? Don’t act like you don’t know it.”
    I don’t think I was breathing. I tried to say something but all I did was sputter. So he continued. “I know guys must have been hounding you all through school. How you managed to have and keep the image of someone so innocent is beyond me.”
    Finally my sputters turned into actual words. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t know me at all. I had braces and baggy clothes all throughout high school, and I braided my hair down my back every day. My first kiss was on a dare at summer camp when I was thirteen and that was the most action I saw all throughout high school. I was basically a looser.”
    “You were a virgin all throughout high school?” he laughed incredulously. Where had this conversation come from? Where was the professional guy from before? Why were we talking about this? My face turned beet red.
    “Yes,” I said tersely, close to tears. “Still am, if you really must know. ”
    Mike’s eyes widened and