Page 8 of My Turn Petal
She flashes a bright grin and winks at me. “Yes, please.”
Her word choice is very dangerous, it stirs something deep inside me that longs for her.
Slowly, I unbutton my shirt, starting from the lower one.
She pretends to search for the tattoo stencil she made in advance, but with each second, her eyes climb along with my fingers up the middle section of my shirt.
I expose the side she needs to tattoo and tuck the fabric under my armpit. My upper body is puffed, more than usual, since I’ve been working on it excessively for the past few months.
The outlines of my solid chest draw her attention and her whole face lights up—it’s the same expression she has when she finishes a tattoo.
Frankie sanitizes my bare chest, waits a few moments, and presses the sticker to my skin.Surrender to your darkest desires.
I bet it would be outrageously sensual to feel her lipstick imprinting me as well.
Satisfied with the location, she fills a cup with ink and settles it on the metal cart next to her.
The machine roars as she starts stroking my flesh time and again.
The direct light on top of us accentuates her bow-shaped lips, they don’t move an inch as she focuses herself.
She’s humming the song her phone blares in the background. I know one of her favorite bands is coming to New Jersey for a concert in two and a half months. I managed to get two tickets before the show sold out—thanks to one of my chatty students who likes them too. I could ask her if she’d like to come with me that way I’m already sealing a date night in two and a half months from now.
Thirty minutes later, I’m good to go with a new ink on my flesh.
“Thanks, Frankie. Amazing as always.” I grab the ointment she constantly urges me to take instead of buying it at a drugstore after every session.
I stand in front of her, silent and hesitant about my next words.
“Are you okay?” She leans against the desk where she schedules appointments. “You’re being a bit suspicious today?” she adds.
Scratching the back of my neck, I purse my lips and take a deep breath before I open my mouth. “I was thinking maybe I can help you.”
“With?” confused, she crosses her arms already forming a defense, and narrows her eyes at me.
“Your condition.”
“My—” she shakes her head, trying to figure out what the hell am I talking about.
“I accidentally overheard you talking to Jude on the phone.” My tone is gentle. Not judgmental or anything like that.
“So you eavesdropped on my conversation.”
I knew this one would be my downfall.
“Please, hear me out.” My palms are in the air, exhibiting my surrender. “You didn’t see me exiting my apartment and you kept on going.”
“You could’ve put on earphones or gotten back to your apartment and waited for a minute until I was gone.”
She’s emotional and ready to kick my sorry ass to space.
“Frankie.”
“No! Don’t Frankie me.” Fidgeting on her boots, her nostrils flare, and her fist clenches so hard I’m surprised I haven’t felt it colliding with my face yet. “You listened to something you shouldn’t have. It’s personal.” She arches her curved eyebrows.
Already regretting this, I reply, “I understand.”
“I’m also aware I shouldn’t have had that conversation in the hallway in the first place. I know you know me but there are things I keep to myself.”
