Текст книги "Uncaged"

Автор книги: Emilia Kincade

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter Eleven

My head hurts. I’m hung over, and I can’t believe I got that drunk last night. We only shared a bottle of champagne. Though, in retrospect, I had most of it.

But even more, I can’t believe I let Pierce kiss me, and touch me… humiliate me.

The woman before me clears her throat. Tina Azume. She’s way more intimidating than she looks on her website. Her face is all sharp angles, and her black eyes tunnel hard into my own. She’s studying me. I haven’t seen her smile yet. From the way she looks, I wonder if she’s ever smiled before.

It’s definitely not what I expected. Then again, I don’t know what I was expecting from one of the best tattoo artists in the world.

“You got your visiting artist visa?” she asks me. Her thin lips barely move as she speaks. Her voice is monotone, uninterested, unenthused.

Already, my stomach is crunching up tight. Already, I’m worrying that I’m not going to get this apprenticeship placement, that I will have come all the way out here for nothing!

My confidence falls out from under me. Why should I get it? Who is to say I’m better than the dozens of other people who have surely already interviewed for this position?

Oh God! I’m starting to panic.

I take a deep breath, calm my nerves. I’ve got to get through the interview. I can’t let my nerves show.

I clear my throat, and tell Ms. Azume, “I can’t yet, as I need a current tattoo artist to vouch for me.”

She purses her lips. They are a dull pink, but even so manage to stand out against her chalky-white complexion. “I’m unfamiliar with the visa requirements for visitors. How long does it last?”

“Thirty-one days, to allow me to apprentice, and then you can vouch for me to get a different visa that lasts for longer if you want to keep me on.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she says. She’s flicking through my black, leather-bound portfolio. Tina Azume is my favorite artist. She’s got such an idiosyncratic style, and I fell in love with it the moment I saw it.

Like her face, the lines she draws are full of sharp angles, and yet have this wistful, flowing quality to them. It’s almost like if water was geometric.

I can hardly believe I’m sitting in her office, talking with her! I’m star-struck. I burp, and taste stomach acid mixed with champagne.

“You did the tattoo on your foot yourself?”

I look down at my right foot instinctively. I’m wearing my favorite blue-and-white pinstripe flats, so I can’t see the whole web of intricate and interwoven beanstalks that I designed myself. But I do see a bit of it.

“Yes,” I say.

“How?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“How were you able to? I mean, with what instruments? Where?”

“I was friends with a local artist back home in Chicago. She said that if I wanted to practice on myself, she’d let me and watch me.”

“And you weren’t her apprentice?”

“No.”

“So she just let a unlicensed friend use her tattoo equipment?”

I swallow. My heart stops dead. Should I have lied?

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Quite a risk for her to take.” Tina Azume is eyeballing me now, and her face has gone from mere indifference to something approaching hostility. “I don’t do that in my shop.”

“I understand.”

“Take off your shoe.”

I blink, and then immediately slip it off. She extends a hand, and I’m not sure what she wants me to do.

“Your foot, please.”

A little embarrassed, I lift my foot into her hand, and she holds it and pulls my toes down flat, and then peers at my tattoo.

“Your hand must be steady, especially since it hurts on the foot, and since you did this upside-down.”

I don’t know what to say, so I don’t reply.

“You are skilled with curved lines – they are smooth. These are vines?”

“Well, in my mind they were kind of like beanstalks.”

“But they are not straight?”

I shrug. “I started off with them straight, but after drawing and redrawing the design, realized I liked them more vine-like, tangled.”

She sets my foot down, and I slip it back into my shoe.

“It’s impressive for someone so young. Most people don’t start getting into practicing body art until their mid-twenties, sometimes older. You’ve got a good hand, and a good eye. I can see that from your drawings.” She gestures gently at my portfolio that’s in her hands.

“Thank you,” I whisper. I feel my heart quicken with excitement, anticipation.

“But being a tattoo artist is not the same as being, simply, good at drawing. Tell me, what other skills are vital?”

“An excellent knowledge of the health-related ramifications of getting and giving tattoos,” I say. “And also effective communication. Nothing is worse than a tattoo artist who cannot communicate with her client.”

She just stares at me, as though she’s expecting more.

“Um,” I stall, buying time. “Mental discipline. Tattoo sessions can often go on for hours, and an artist must not only know how to concentrate and not get distracted, but must also know her own limits.”

“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Tina says, slapping my portfolio shut. “I like your style, but I must say I see a little of my own in it.”

“I’ve been following your work since I was fifteen,” I say. “On your website, on tattoo message boards, and social network groups.”

“I see. And where are you living now?”

“Near St. Kilda.”

“Ah, so just down the road?”

“Yeah,” I say, grinning. “I walked here today.”

“Don’t walk home at night if you can avoid it,” she says. “Especially on weekends.”

I hold my breath. “Does this mean that, I, uh—”

“Yes, Penelope. Bring the license form tomorrow morning so I can sign it. I’m normally in the shop at eight, but you’ll now be opening up for me, so I expect you to be here at seven-thirty.”

I nod enthusiastically, but she sees the confusion on my face. Tattoo shops don’t usually open so early.

“I run an online business,” she says. “I sell temporary tattoos, and various paraphernalia. Some accessories, too, like rings, earrings, broaches, pins, badges, that kind of thing.” She waves her hand carelessly, but I’m just even more impressed.

“That’s amazing,” I say. “So you’re like a total one-woman show.”

For the first time, she smiles. “Not anymore, I guess. I’ll be handing off some of those duties to you. Pay will be minimum wage, and I expect to only give you two days off a week. Also, you must work weekends and all holidays.”

“That’s fine with me.” I’m squeeing on the inside, but trying to keep my composure on the outside.

“Good. See you tomorrow then.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Azume.”

“It’s just Tina.”

“Thanks, Tina.”

“I have a client coming tomorrow,” she says as I’m about to leave. “It’s a work in progress. I’ll be doing some filling in, going over some outlining. It’s quite expansive on the lower half of his body. He will be nude from the waist-down. I expect you to study me as I administer the tattoo. Will that be a problem?”

“I can handle that,” I say.

“He can be a bit… rude. I’ll try and control him, but really, I don’t think I’ll be very successful.”

“What do you mean ‘rude’?”

“I mean,” she says. “That sometimes women find him difficult. I expect, since you’ll be at my side and watching me, he’ll make a crude joke or two.”

I swallow. “I can handle it.”

She considers me for a moment, but then smiles. “Okay, then,” she says. “Seven-thirty tomorrow morning. Here’s a key, open up the shutters, and let yourself in. There’s no alarm.” She waves her hand. “Nothing to steal, and I’d rather not pay the fee. Once you’re in here, I want you to walk around, get a feel for the table, the chair, everything. Otherwise, simply amuse yourself without touching anything, and wait for me to arrive. Understood, Penelope?”

“Yes!” I say, taking the set of keys. Despite Tina’s somewhat harsh tone, I’m over the moon. If I wasn’t so hung-over, I’d be bouncing on my toes right now.

When I get outside, I try to shake the trembling out of my hands, and I bite on my finger so as not to scream.

I can’t believe I’m going to be apprenticing for my favorite artist!

Everything is just going so perfectly so far.

I just took the first step toward my dream career. How many people can honestly say that?

Chapter Twelve

“Well, well, well…”

I whip around, recognizing the voice, and see Pierce strutting into the shop.

“Oh my God,” I groan to myself. This was the client who was going to be half-nude? This was the guy Tina said women found difficult?

Tina looks between me and him, and then frowns. She opens her mouth to say something, but then stops herself.

“You’re apprenticing for Tina?” he asks. “Looks like I just found my new favorite tattoo artist.”

“Evidently,” I say, forcing a polite smile. It’s my first day – I need to impress Tina, but obviously Pierce isn’t going to make it easy at all. But he’s not going to rattle me, no matter how hard he tries. And I know he’s going to try.

“Come on Pierce,” Tina says. “Let’s go into the back.”

I follow behind him and he follows behind Tina. He turns around and winks at me. I shoot him a glare. He’d better not mess this up for me!

He goes to the chair that’s in its reclined position, and hops onto it, and immediately begins undoing his belt.

It all comes back to me: The unfinished tattoo! Oh God, why did it have to be him?

He pulls his trousers and boxers down in one go to his knees. I instantly snap my eyes away, but I do not fail to miss his neatly trimmed pubic hair. Also… he’s… really big.

“Looking won’t kill you,” he says, and I feel my face burning.

“Pierce,” Tina warns, her voice stern.

I force myself to look, focus on the half-finished tattoo. Tentacles from a jellyfish coil around his thigh – I had caught a glimpse of that at the fight, but couldn’t make them out as they were mostly covered by his shorts. The body of the sea creature was only outlined, and still needed to be filled in and shaded. That bit lay across his Adonis belt and hip bone.

The body of the jellyfish looks strange. It is a banana-shaped hollow bubble with what looks like the outline of a dorsal fin.

He lies back and puts his arms above his head and grips on to the edge of the reclined chair. He actually looks really sexy with his arms up like that. He’s smirking at me.

Tina takes a seat at his side, and starts to prepare the tattoo machine. She fills it with black ink, and explains to Pierce that she’s going to do shadows first, to make the jellyfish appear more real, make it pop.

And I’m just standing, trying my best not to stare at his cock.

“I want her to fill it in,” Pierce says, nodding his head at me.

I look from him to Tina, and then back at him. “I—”

“She can’t,” Tina says. “This is her first day apprenticing. I am not even confident of her skills. I have never seen her administer a—”

“Well, nothing like a bit of hands-on experience to sharpen the skills, am I right?” he says in a cocky way. He’s so smug that I just want to punch him on the nose. “Unless she thinks she’s not up to scratch.”

“She’s not up to scratch,” Tina says.

“I have the skills to do it,” I say, eyeing them both with some hostility. “But Tina’s right. It would be inappropriate.”

I look away from him, from his groin, and focus on the vials of ink and the tattoo machine sitting on the tray by Tina.

“Never seen a cock before?” Pierce asks. “Don’t worry, it won’t bite.”

My face grows even hotter. But he’s right. This is the first time I’ve seen a man’s penis in real life.

“Hey!” Tina barks. “You will respect her, or you will leave.”

I turn to face them, and give him a glare, flashing my eyebrows. But he doesn’t seem checked.

“Don’t worry, I’m only playing. But I know what the real reason is.”

God, I’m losing my temper. “What?” I snap. “What’s this ‘real’ reason?”

“That you’re scared you’ll fuck it up because you’ll be distracted.”

I snort, and roll my eyes. “Please, Pierce. You’re such a pig.”

“Hey, just calling it like it is.”

“Right.”

“You are scared, aren’t you?” he asks. His eyes tunnel into mine, and I find I have to look away. My heart is beating fast, and I try to look anywhere else but his naked lower half, but I can’t.

“It would be unethical for Tina to let someone as inexperienced as me fill in your whole tattoo,” I say, voice level. “But, in order to get some hands-on experience, perhaps she would let me fill in only a portion of the tattoo.”

I look up at Tina, and she just presses her lips together and nods. To me, it looks like she’s just accepting that this tide won’t recede.

She steps back, and I sit on her stool, snap on latex gloves, and take the coiled tattoo machine.

“Ah, so the rook’s going to be wielding the tattoo gun this morning, eh?”

“We don’t refer to it as a gun,” Tina says. “It’s a machine.”

“Okay, Tina.”

“Pierce, you know that if she makes a mistake—”

“I know. I’m willing to risk it. No skin off my leg.” He grins.

“I won’t make a mistake,” I say through gritted teeth. “This will hurt.”

“No it won’t.”

“Yes it will. The skin on the inside of the thigh has shallow nerve endings. That’s why it’s so painful when we chafe there, or if you get cut there. That’s also why it’s so painful to get a tattoo there.”

I still my hands, place one on his knee to steady it. His flesh feels burning hot. Just touching him is making my heartbeat quicken.

His smell, just faint, reaches my senses. I try to ignore it.

Carefully, I trace the inside line of the jellyfish’s main outline with the machine. I’m holding it about an inch above his skin, but getting a feel for the device, how long the needle extends, the weight in my hands, the balance. There are a great many models of tattoo machines, and little standardization because of the industry’s taboo nature. Understanding the weight and balance is crucial.

It’s a good machine, well-made, and light-weight. It pulls a little up – the back is heavier than the front – but that’s the way you want it to be. Better for the machine to fall out of your hands backwards away from the client’s skin, rather than forward into it.

“Okay,” I say, and look at Tina. “Where’s the reference design.”

She nods her head at the corkboard behind Pierce, and I notice it for the first time. There’s a cocktail napkin pinned to it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say to Pierce. “You designed this on a napkin?”

“And only during my date’s bathroom trips,” he says.

“What jellyfish is that?”

“Portuguese Man of War.” He smiles at me. “Tentacles go back dozens of feet, like the net cast off by a trawler. The fin-like thing you see? At distance, if you see it, it just looks like the fin of a dead fish. Difficult to notice if you’re in the water with it.”

“You go on a Discovery Channel binge, or something?”

I notice that Tina stiffens, but still she says nothing.

“Best guy I ever fought got tangled up in one while surfing.”

I suck in a breath of air, and feel instantly embarrassed and terrible. “I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t die. But he’ll never fight again. Too much nerve and muscle damage.”

Behind me I hear Tina sigh.

“Why are you getting this tattoo?”

“Because I haven’t fought a guy who challenged me as much. I miss it.” The tone of his voice has changed. He’s become less… well, posturing.

“Alright. Tina, what are we doing first?”

She traces the outline of the fin that sits on top of the jellyfish’s body, and then tells me that the fin actually undulates – like a seashell. I know exactly what she means, and take another look at the drawing on the napkin, and figure out what Pierce was trying to do. He got the angles of the shadowing wrong. The guy can’t draw for the life of him.

“Alright,” I say. I look at him one last time, and when I meet his snowy eyes, it’s like I’ve been injected with adrenaline. I’ve suddenly got a buzz. I’m bordering on shaking.

I never expected this kind of exhilaration when giving a tattoo. I hope it never fades.

“Are you sure about this? You want me to try?”

“Getting cold feet?”

“No. But I’m not so full of myself that I can’t admit I might make a mistake… unlike you.”

“What can I say? I’m a risk taker.”

I sigh. “Fine. But seriously, this will hurt.”

“Nah. It won’t.”

A moment later I press it into his skin. He doesn’t even flinch, and despite knowing I shouldn’t, I press it in a little harder.

“Woah, Pen, take it easy!”

“Relax,” I say. “It’s not your first time.”

“But it is yours… among other things.”

“Not so hard,” Tina interjects. She puts her hands on mine, guides me. “Just like this. The skin here is very delicate, very easy to mark. Not like a hand or top of the arm.”

“I understand, Tina.”

I begin shadowing on the fin, and to my great satisfaction, I feel his body temperature begin to rise through my palm steadying his knee.

“Sure it doesn’t hurt?” I say, sneering, but not breaking concentration. “Your body temperature is increasing; this is typically a sign of physical distress, or pain.” I say it in as smug a voice I can.

“Nah,” he says. I know he’s grinning. I can hear it in his voice. “I just think you look really hot like this, head down in my lap.”

Appalled, I turn my eyes to him, and that’s when I notice that his penis is starting to get hard.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I cry, slapping the tattoo machine down on the metal tray and pushing my chair back. I get up, and walk away, and stand at the window, shaking my head. “You’re such an asshole, Pierce.”

“Hey!” he says, voice all don’t-blame-me. “It’s you. You do it to me.”

“This session is over now, Pierce,” I hear Tina say. Her voice is calm, but there’s venom in it. “Please leave and come back tomorrow when you can control yourself. If you can’t control yourself, you’ll never be welcome here again.”

I watch as she sticks a plastic covering over his tattoo, adhesive on all sides to cover it.

“Don’t get this wet,” she says.

“I know the drill, Tina.”

“Really?” she says, eyes flashing anger. “Because just now it seemed you didn’t.”

“Hey,” he says. “I can’t fucking control my body. Your apprentice is hot. I like her.”

Despite myself, I feel a tightening in my belly. I don’t know exactly if it’s because I like hearing that, or because I hate him for saying that, for using that.

At this point, it doesn’t really matter.

“See you tomorrow,” he says, swaggering out of the shop.

I turn to Tina, and she just sighs, eyeing me.

“This going to be a problem?” she asks. “Because if it is, take a day tomorrow.”

I balk. “That wasn’t my fault!”

“Penelope.” She’s shorter than me, way smaller in frame than I am, and yet somehow I’m terrified of her. I shrink completely.

“In our line of work, we sometimes encounter troublesome clients. Perhaps, some might say, more often than in other lines of work.”

I nod.

“You have no idea how many men I’ve tattooed who became tumescent during the process.”

“Any who were naked?” I counter.

“Yes,” she says, nodding. “Very many. I’ve also tattooed women on their inner thighs, pubic region, even labia, who became very obviously aroused, too. This is an awkward setting for everybody involved. You can’t react the way you did, no matter how uncomfortable you find it. Now, I know it’s not the case with Pierce, but if you make a client uncomfortable for an involuntary reaction, then we may lose them as a customer. There is a certain level of trust and intimacy between artist and client, Penelope. You need to make them feel free from judgment.”

“He was doing it on purpose!”

“No,” she says, “He wasn’t. All that joking was just a cover for a reaction he couldn’t control. And that’s not the point. Look, I’m not trying to get you in trouble or lecture you, but you really can’t freak out like that. When nurses do prostate exams, men can get erections, even ejaculate. Some women are aroused when they see their gynecologist, and even achieve orgasm. Most of it is just a result of physical stimulation, paired with an intensely awkward situation. The brain processes things in strange ways, and stress can often be displaced into arousal.”

I bunch my brow. “How do you know this?”

“I read a book by a psychologist who became a tattoo artist. Plus, twenty years of industry experience. Anyway, if those doctors or nurses were to freak out in those situations—”

“I didn’t freak out.”

“You did,” she says. “You totally did. You shattered the ink vial.”

I look toward the metal tray, and there I see the tattoo machine sitting in a puddle of black ink.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ll pay for that.”

“It’s fine,” Tina says, putting up a hand. “Listen, you and him got a history?”

“No!”

She eyes me hard, and I wilt.

“We kissed last night. I don’t know. I don’t like him at all. He’s just so… irritating.”

“Look, if he’s too close—”

“For a tattoo?” I blurt.

“For this tattoo, Penelope.”

I swallow. “If he can control himself tomorrow, I can do it.”

“Fine, but you’re not doing the shadowing. That was a mistake on my part.”

“Tina,” I say, holding my voice steady. “I can do the shadowing. I have the skills. You’ve seen the tattoos I administered to myself.”

“No. Tomorrow you’ll just be watching me. I’m sorry, but I can’t ethically allow you to do even a portion of the tattoo. That was wrong of me.”

“Tina—”

“He had us both going in there, Penelope. Played you like a fiddle, goaded you into doing the tattoo, and me into letting you. No, you can just watch.”

“Okay,” I say.

She pauses for a moment. It seems like she’s hesitating to say something. A moment later I find out what it is.

“Do you like him?”

I take my time. I wonder if I should react with false indignation. I decide to just be honest with her.

“I don’t know. I know that I dislike him.”

“Sometimes the two are hard to separate.”

At first I think that she may be patronizing me, but from her expression, I know that she’s not.

“He likes you,” she says.

“No he doesn’t.”

“Judging from what just happened, I’d say he definitely does.”

“His erection?” I say, shaking my head. “No, he’s just a dog.”

“Not his erection,” she says. “His eyes. He couldn’t take them off you.”