There You Stand

Dex wasn’t welcome at the Hog’s Den and if he stepped foot anywhere near it, he was sure to be thrown out on his ass again. It amused him and everyone else that I’d become a regular. I drove a motorcycle, so at least I had that in common with their clientele.

“Why, you need a sidekick?”

“Always,” he said.

“Two drink maximum,” I said, stifling a yawn. Dex shrugged and walked away.

“You realize you’re not helping, right?” Jessie said.

“You think he wouldn’t just head up there alone?” I said. “At least I can keep him down to two. And hey, I could try to talk to him and figure out why he’s been going overboard so much. It wasn’t always like that.”

“Do you actually talk or just goof off the entire time?”

“Whatever,” I scoffed.

As Jessie flipped the screen toward me, I was surprised to see Jude on my schedule today. Instead of obsessing about it, I forced it from my thoughts like I had all week, and focused on the workday ahead. So when Jessie called back for my next appointment of the afternoon, I was surprised how many hours had already flown by.

When Jude brusquely appeared at the door, I didn’t have time to process it any longer. “Come in.”

He set down his bag and approached with wariness in his eyes either from the work that was about to be done or from seeing me again. For certain there was some kind of tension between us and I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it. But now was not the time or place.

I showed him his tattoo on a larger scale from the transfer paper. His eyes grew wide and I wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. It was a close likeness to what he had drawn but I had taken liberty to add my own flair in the minute details.

“Do you approve?” I asked, my stomach unexpectedly tense about his opinion, though I’d never doubted my work before. If there was one thing I was confident about in my life, it was my skill as an artist.

“Amazing.” One word. That was all he’d allowed.

And it was those three syllables that had worked their way beneath my layers and burrowed deep inside my gut.

Fuck. It was one hard-earned acknowledgement.

“Thanks, man,” I said, breaking away from his gaze. I finished prepping the machine and set out the color. Black. It was dark and intimidating but suited the tree perfectly. I noticed how his other tattoos were also colorless, but I ruthlessly clamped my curiosity down.

“Let’s get started. After you take off your shirt, I’ll have you lie down here.” I tapped the padded table, which looked similar to what you’d find in a massage parlor. I preferred my clients to recline in this position for back tattoos. “I’m sure you already know the drill.”

When I didn’t hear any noise, I looked over my shoulder and that action seemed to snap him out of some spell. He stepped forward and lifted his shirt over his head. I couldn’t help staring. I didn’t know how many more opportunities I’d have.

After he lay facedown on my table, I took notice of the fine lines and nuances of his body beyond the scars. How his shoulders and biceps flexed and how his shorts hung low enough that I could practically envision the lower half of him naked.

I swallowed roughly. I could not allow my mind to wander to how it would feel to touch that round and tight ass. Working with a painful hard-on for the next hour would be sheer torture.

“You comfortable?” I asked. “You’ll need to keep your arms in that same position above your head.”

When he nodded, I took the transfer sheet and meticulously applied it to the middle of his back, making sure to press down all the corners and straight edges. Jude’s head was facedown resting on his hands and he let out a breath.

When I was satisfied that the paper had aligned as perfectly as I could manage, I slowly peeled it back to reveal the framework of the tattoo.

“Do you want me to grab the hand mirror so you can see what the outline looks like?”

When he shook his head, it gave me the confidence to move forward. He was putting his trust in me so I needed to keep myself focused.

Next I fired up the tattoo machine. “I’m going to get started. Let me know if you need a break.”

He nodded and then turned his head so that his cheek rested on his arm. He stared at the wall behind me and I got to work. He winced a couple of times at the beginning but just like most of my customers, he became accustomed to the initial discomfort of the needle.

It’s hard to describe what getting a tattoo feels like. It depends on the individual and the placement on the body. But I knew from experience that the middle to lower back was one of the most painful places to receive a tattoo, because it was bonier and contained less fatty tissue. Again, it varied depending on the person. But Jude was taking it like a champ and besides, could it have hurt worse than the brutality that had actually caused the scars in the first place?

If I were to speculate, the round spots certainly looked like burn marks of some sort. Maybe from a cigarette. Before a shudder could quake through me, I sealed those thoughts away along with the other tragedies I was best at ignoring in my life and got myself in the zone.

I was hyperaware of Jude, but soon enough the tension disappeared as I lost myself in the work. Normally I’d ask the client questions throughout the procedure to pass the time, but that would be an impossible feat with Jude.

When I next glanced at his face, I realized he’d been watching me work. That was nothing new. Customers needed to keep their eyes planted somewhere but somehow knowing Jude had been observing me made my stomach plant firmly in my throat. When our eyes next met, he didn’t even try to look away.