If Only (Captured) Read online

  She smirks, humored. “Cuz he’s obviously attracted to you, he thinks you’re cute. And you were right, he is hooot!” she finishes in operatic song, rubbing her hands together with delight.

  I giggle at her. Right on the verge of my reply, he enters the room. He smiles at me and walks over to a cabinet on the wall behind me. I twist my upper body around and watch him pull out some white latex gloves. Oh, shit. For some reason, it only just hits me.

  He is going to see me topless.

  Abruptly, I turn to the front and stare at Su, wide-eyed. Nick is the only man who has ever seen my tits. Ryan felt them, but he never saw them, so that doesn’t count. And he was my boyfriend at the time. Maybe the nerves of getting the piercings done stopped the recognition of this factor when I first learned this guy was doing them, but right now, with it so close to happening, that realization has my gut twisting.

  I point to my breasts and mouth the words I just thought to Su. She winks at me and sort of grins to ease me, but it’s impossible for me to smile back. I need to distract myself. “I don’t know your name. You told me your brother’s, but not yours,” I say, looking, but not looking at the display of photos along the white wall in front of me. I can’t recall what I was told when I booked, my brain won’t work right. The silence in here feels thick, and that’s not helping matters.

  “My name is Joe,” he says, as he sits down on a chair to the right of me.

  Joe. Now I remember. I always wondered what his name was after our almost collision. Joe. I like it.

  He wheels himself closer, stopping in front of me. The height of the table puts me above him, so I have to lower my gaze if I want to make eye contact with him. That’s the last thing I want to do. This really wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t hot. Why couldn’t I get the older guy who booked me in? Or Adam? He’s cute, too, but I could deal with him.

  “Okay. So you want a tattoo as well,” he states, sitting upright with his lightly-fisted hands resting on his thighs, the gloves clutched within his right hand. I wish I could be as relaxed as he is.

  I nod, looking level with his perfectly sculpted cheekbones. “Yeah.”

  “Do you have in mind what you want, or would you like to see some designs?” I don’t know how, but he’s able to stare me straight in the eyes. Su was right about him being nervous before, but he’s definitely, absolutely not now. Maybe he was a little embarrassed about the almost collision thing.

  With effort, I return his gaze as best as I can. Oh, God. My heart starts to gallop, threatening to burst out of my chest.

  Those rich coffee beans have been imprinted on my memory since I first saw them. Sitting this near to reality is almost debilitating. There’s a deep tenderness in his stare that warms me, but the intensity of his focus pushes it up to a searing heat. It’s overwhelming, it makes me want to look away, but … I can’t. The brown is so rich with no intrusion of other tones and that only enhances the impact.

  I thought my memory of his face was an exaggeration, the exceptional features and planes combining masculinity and beauty, but it’s true and very real. The tone of his skin is closer to olive than fair and appears incredibly smooth. I have an urge to slowly run the tips of my fingers along the lines and contours of his features, medium-thick eyebrows; narrow nose; high, defined cheekbones; softly-chiseled jaw, and then make a sculpture of his head, made to the exact likeness, but I wouldn’t go there, even with my skill, which, bias or not, I credit to be at a high standard. Thinking of this man as hot is easy to conclude, but it’s understated.

  Joe is a powerful combination of man, beauty and sex.

  “I love your tattoos,” I say, the words flying out before I can stop them. It’s not the answer to his question, whatever that was, but his navy sleeveless T-shirt displays the art on his muscular arms. I don’t linger too long on his left, which has a half-sleeve tribal tat. It’s the right one that’s gripped my attention. Intricately designed female angels, all in black with shading, cover his skin from shoulder to wrist.

  “Thank you,” he says. The sweet smile he offers takes shape with slender, soft looking lips. They probably feel better than the most luxurious silk in existence.

  “Are they your only ones?”

  “No, I also have one on my back.”

  “Do you think we could see it?” I ask, before my mouth and brain connect. I glance in Su’s direction, sitting to his right. She’s still enthralled by the angels.

  “Sure. How ‘bout we get you done first.”

  “Okay.” And right now that awful twisting of my gut returns.

  “So do you know what tattoo you want?”

  “I’d like to have ‘Love’ written on the side of my right foot,” I point to the spot, exposed by my flip-flops, “in a rose vine. I’ve seen a few designs that I like, but I’m open to suggestions, if you have any.”

  “Sure, that’ll be easy enough.”

  We discuss my piercings, and the thoughts of pain – again – temporarily distract me from the knowledge that this beautiful man is going to see my tits. Right up until now; when he stands up. I feel sick.

  Joe moves the tray with all his equipment closer to the table and pulls on his gloves.

  I close my eyes, breathe in a deep-dose of sterile air, and just go for it, stripping from the waist up; T-shirt, bra. Shit.

  Thankfully, the room is warm.

  Seven: Joe

  I’m trying to approach the situation as I have with all the other nipple piercings I’ve done. Who am I kidding? This is in no way the same. I’ve carried out this procedure on countless women, but providing such a service for this funky little angel doesn’t compare. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about her. Part of me wondered after our first encounter whether I imagined her, she seemed too good to be true.

  She isn’t beautiful in a blatant, super model type way, many women like that have come to our studio before. I’ve done a lot more than pierce those types of ladies, too. Callie is striking and unique, with big, mesmerizing eyes the color of toffee. She’s got the sweetest nose and full, alluring lips, all captured in a heart shape face. The cotton candy colored hair adds edginess, but doesn’t take away her gentle-femininity. And, fuck me, damn her tits are edible. They’re neither large nor small, they’re perky and a perfect fit for her small frame. A perfect fit for my hands.

  Could she be any more ideal to me?

  With my professional head on and blocking out any type of thoughts that are likely to have my cock responding to the female in front of me, I position the forceps over her right nipple. I put the needle in place, ready to penetrate – bad choice of words. “Wait. Shit,” Callie says, slapping her hands over her eyes and holding them there. “I will do this. I will.”

  “It’s okay, we’ll take our time.” I ease the instrument away, giving her space. I need space, too, I feel like an adolescent fucking boy who’s never seen real-life breasts before.

  “If it’s really bad, I’m stopping at one. One will be fine. Why the hell do I want both done, anyway?” I’d laugh at her indecisive reaction if she wasn’t so nervous; she’s way too cute.

  “Every woman I’ve done this for so far said it wasn’t as bad as they thought it would be.”

  “I heard that, too. I’m sure it’ll be okay, it’s just the buildup, you know.”

  “You can do it,” Su adds. I smile at her friend as she reaches out and holds Callie’s wrist, stroking the back of it with her thumb.

  Callie lowers her hands and looks at Su.

  Now she looks at me – straight in the eyes.

  Something hits me. I don’t know what, but something. It’s the second time she’s done this to me since I sat down in front of her.

  “Right. Let’s do this,” she says, with a new found determination.

  As I push the needle through, Callie’s eyelids close and she bites down on her bottom lip. Once it’s in, she breathes on a curse. She blinks a couple of times and a tiny pearl of a tear rolls down her le
ft cheek. I want to wipe it away with my thumb. Not appropriate, though.

  When the barbell’s in and secure, she fans her face with her hands as though she’s trying to dry away the droplet, now trickling off her jaw, or stop more tears from coming. She takes a deep breath. “Damn, that hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Let’s get the other one over with.”

  Once both are complete, she’s evidently pleased, excited and proud. She’s adorable – I just want to hold her. Such a strange, but prominent urge for a girl I don’t even know.

  For me, those piercings were the hardest, yet most enjoyable ones I’ve done. It was impossible not to register the soft appearance of her breasts (I wish I hadn’t needed to wear gloves), her mouth watering, pale rose-pink nipples, the faint tan lines – evidence of a recent-ish vacation; San Francisco doesn’t offer that type of weather, and the mild peach smell from her skin. Not a perfume, but a body wash or something, maybe a lotion. Whatever it is, it somehow seems appropriate for her.

  “Tattoo time,” she says, once she’s fully dressed.

  “You’re okay to do that now?” I ask, pulling off my gloves.

  “Yes, please, I’d rather get it all over with in one day.”

  On my chair, I move over to the drawing board and sketch a design I think will look perfect on her foot; ‘Love’ written in a rose vine, with an open rose at the ‘L,’ and several small buds entwined throughout the ‘ove.’ I’ve done similar ones for clients before, but I play around with Callie’s until it is unique and just right for her.

  Eight: Callie

  I’m glad to be fully dressed again, I can relax now. Few things make me nervous or embarrass me. I didn’t feel either emotion when I lost my virginity to Nick. This experience has been my strangest yet.

  While Joe is sketching my tattoo, Su and I are having a secret lip reading conversation. It’s a good distraction from the sting presenting in my nipples. Various words are flying back and forth between us. From Su, I can easily pick up her opera sung, almost appropriate, “Hooot!” We laugh silently. She’s now decided “Super hooot” is better.

  I don’t know what she’s getting from me, but I’m saying, “Look at his back.” Gazing over at him, again, I’m taking in the way Joe’s broad, lean shoulders fan out as he sits drawing, his narrow waist, and the defined dip of his spine. That man is in shape, he’s ridiculously, deliciously hot, yes, super freakin’ hooot!

  Su and I stop our soundless giggle the second we hear Joe’s chair move. He stands up, walks over to me, and perches beside me on the padded table. I didn’t notice his scent before, he smells of freshly laundered clothes and soap. His own unique smell is also evident. He holds up the design, for me to see, and we discuss it. I love it already.

  “Is pink your favorite color?” he asks.

  “It is at the moment, but I can be a bit impulsive sometimes. I hadn’t even planned on this hair until I came across the bottle in the store four months ago.” Within days I was at the hair salon. He responds with a deep, delightful chuckle. “Why?” I ask.

  “I thought maybe we could add some color to the rose and buds. The outlines will be black, but we could fill with some red or pink. We could even go with the two shades, it depends what you’d prefer.” There’s something nice about the way he speaks. It’s unrushed with a smooth texture, calming and sexy at the same time. The type of voice you feel as well as hear.

  Joe’s voice, just like his eyes, makes me feel deliciously warm.

  “I trust your judgment. You decide.”

  He smiles and stands up.

  The equipment and the small thimble-type pots of ink are all in place. I remain on the table with my knees bent and my feet flat on the surface. Joe transfers the stencil onto my foot, and I agree it once again. When I hear the buzzing of the machine, my nerves start to resurface, but I don’t want to create a fuss this time. When the needles first make contact with my skin, Joe checks with me that I’m okay with it. It’s a scratchy type of feeling, which I think I can bear. It’s only the start, though, so I’m prepared for the possibility it’ll get worse. No matter what, I’m seeing this through.

  Okay, it’s hurting. I’m wincing on occasion, but I’m not freaking out. The outlines are complete, so I just might make this without embarrassing myself. Again.

  “How the hell did you sit through having all of yours done?” I say, trying not to sound like I’m constipated.

  “With each of them, I started off getting as much done as possible and had follow-up sessions until they were finished. Larger designs are often carried out over several visits, and sometimes the designs just naturally develop over time without prior planning. Don’t underestimate yourself, the foot is a sensitive area, and, of course, we all have different pain thresholds. The most important thing is to relax and keep breathing.”

  As we continue, I split my time between trying not to grimace and trying not to be too absorbed in Joe’s facial expression, which is one of deep concentration that he maintains even when he’s talking. It’s fascinating.

  We’re finished, done, it’s over.

  “Oh, wow, it’s amazing.” I can’t believe how good it is. The detail and the richness of the red with well incorporated hints of pink are remarkable. “What do you think, Su?” I ask, pointing my foot in her direction.

  “Love it, love it!” she says, grinning with approval. I so do, too.

  Joe wheels his chair back and stands up. I jump off the table and, over excitedly, hug him, pushing up onto tiptoes and wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. “Thank you.” Shit. I pull away as if yanked back by an invisible force. My eyes wide in horror, my hands over my open mouth, I say the only thing I can. “I am really sorry.” A stunned giggle escapes me.

  “It’s cool. I’m glad you like it.” His lips curve wide, he seems un-phased, maybe even humored. Yep, I think he wants to laugh at me. “Let’s get that covered,” he says.

  I sit back up on the table, feeling mortified by my unplanned outburst. I fucking hugged him! Once the ointment and bandage are on, I take the opportunity to actually observe the pictures of other people’s body art, while Joe discusses Su’s tattoo with her. I haven’t even left and I already know I want another one.

  As I scan the images, I can see why this place was recommended to us; the standard is exceptional. When I reach the corner, at the rear of the room, I notice a photo of Joe and Adam. It’s tucked away on the counter, but clearly visible – I’m not snooping. Now I know where that physique of Joe’s comes from, and the black belt tells me he must be pretty damn good at it.

  “Ready when you are, Callie,” Su calls.

  I turn to face them. “You do martial arts?” I ask Joe, without moving from where I’m standing.

  “Yeah, Jujutsu.”

  “Really?” I say, with an unavoidable raise of my eyebrows. He nods in response, and I don’t know what the hell else to say. I’m impressed in more ways than one. “Are you clear on what you’re going to get?” I ask Su, walking to her.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna go book myself in now.” She grins excitedly.

  I’m grabbing my opportunity. “I’m thinking about another one. Something like that.” I point to a picture of a woman’s tummy, tattooed down one side. “Not the design, but the location.”

  “You know, I could do something to go with the one on your foot. Lemme show you quickly.” He leads me to his drawing board and in no time roughly sketches his idea, while talking me through it. I want it.

  I’m definitely coming back.

  We’re all heading for the door, to exit the room, when Su suddenly stops. “Oh, can we see your other tattoo before we go? I hope you don’t mind,” she says.

  Joe shrugs his shoulders, completely at ease with Su’s request. He probably gets asked this all the time. “If you want to.”

  “Yes, please,” she says, springing up on to her toes like an excited child.

  I do want to see it, but I don’t. The thought alone made a
flash of heat snake through me. I grip the end of my ponytail, and twirl my hair around my forefinger, saying nothing on the matter.

  Joe grasps his shirt at the center of his upper back and pulls it up, the hem rising from the low hung waistband of his loose-fitting, pale blue jeans, and tugs it over his head, taking it off. Even with his shirt off, I do, but I don’t want to look.

  Okay, how much praise can a man take in one day? Seriously? Joe’s body is beyond amazing, it’s muscular and strong looking. Not bulky, just superbly sculpted and his smooth, hair-free chest doesn’t take anything away from his manliness. I didn’t expect the curves and spikes of his tribal tattoo to spread across his defined left pec. I definitely didn’t expect to see a bar running through his right nipple. Thankfully, he doesn’t stay facing us for long, and without being asked, he turns away from us. I wonder if his girlfriend would mind us seeing him bare from the waist up, observing him to this degree. Does he have one, I wonder? Not that that’s any of my business.

  Oh, my goodness.

  His entire back is tattooed and at the center of it, an embracing, naked man and woman sit gazing at each other’s lips. It looks as though they’re on the verge of kissing, the seconds before their lips make contact. Their limbs protect their modesty, keeping it tasteful, and, though done subtly, it’s deeply intimate and sensual. It’s intriguing that they’re in a forest, a public place, yet it seems so private, like no one beyond themselves exists. As with his others, it’s black with shading, and it’s clear every bit of the design has been considered.

  What’s got me the most is the obvious love, comfort and companionship it shows; the offer of something more than just physical. I see it in their eyes and their hold. That’s what I take from the image, anyway.

  I wonder if it represents the man who bares the design on his skin.

  I feel warm, soft skin under my finger tips. I’m touching it. I drag my hand away, as quickly as if I’d been burned by him. “It’s incredible, who did it?” The words leave my mouth with urgency.

  Joe turns to face us, and I have no choice but to meet his gaze. I stop breathing.