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So, I'm at work last night, just doing my shit. Clearing out a bunch of old tat mags, trying to keep the place from being an utter dump, when this guy comes in. I'm watching him out of the corner of my eye as he checks the place out, and I'm wondering what the fuck he's in here for. He's doing all the right 'new to tattoo parlor' shit, looking at the health inspection certs and stuff, but he just looks so wrong in here.
He's real tight-laced looking, wearing jeans and sneakers, and this t-shirt that looks like it was ironed; not a wrinkle or loose bit about him. He's got light hair, cut real short, and he looks like he'd be more comfortable in a lecture hall somewhere discussing politics. Municipal politics.
I finish sorting the mags and watch him looking at some art on the walls. Celtic stuff, intricate knot work. Not the thick bands, but delicate tats that take some time and are totally worth the effort. He's about my age, I think, but he looks way younger, really soft around the edges. And he looks so scared, I wonder if he's about to piss himself.
So I wander over and look at the flash with him. I point to one of the knots, a lacy vine thing that is gorgeous and not as girly as it sounds. "That's a nice one."
He looks and me and nods, gives me this shy smile. He's got green eyes.
"Yeah. Not here for art though. Got an appointment with Bobby in about five minutes."
I blink and look him over. Bobby is the piercer, and I've got this guy figured for maybe an eyebrow ring--something to scare his parents with, but nothing too exotic.
"Yeah?" I say, "What're you getting done?" I kind of quirk an eyebrow at him, trying tolook friendly 'cause he's hot. Still, I'm not really picturing this guy going in for body mods.
He kind of looks away from me for a second, then back. "Nipple."
And I can't help it, I grin and bring my hand up to my chest and press my shirt tight, showing my own off. "Hey, you should get them both done," I say and wonder why the hell I'm saying it. Then my mouth keeps talking. "Then you can link them with a chain, like I do. Feels real cool."
His eyes get a little wild and he looks me up and down, then grins. "Can I see?"
So what do I do? I lift my shirt for the pretty boy. Not sure where my brain is at this point. I've got rings in both nipples and this fine gold chain linking them. He's staring at my chest and I can feel myself start to get hard, 'cause, well, I'm me. Then he reaches a hand out to me, and pulls it back.
"Go ahead," I say. Shy always gets to me--I think it's a personality flaw. Maybe.
He reaches out to me again and fingers the chain lightly, then steps a little closer and tugs on it. He's holding my eyes and he's working the chain like he knows exactly what it's doing to me, sending bolts of fucking fire to my cock, and then he says, real quiet, "Like that, do you?"
I nod and try to grin, but he's looking me up and down, real slow and his eyes are hot and I can see he's getting hard in his jeans.
Bobby sticks his head out the door and calls him, so he lets go of my chain and smiles at me. Says, "Yeah, maybe I'll do both." Then he's gone.
I go to the desk and hunt up his release form. His name is Paul and I was right, he's my age. Exactly. We share a birthday.
When he comes out he's got both nipples done and orders to keep a chain off until they heal. When he leaves he's got a business card with my name and number on the back.