Inked in Blood

Inked in Blood By J.M. Snyder I decided to get my last tattoo on a whim. It was late in the evening, almost nine o’clock, but the red Open sign still blazed outside Tattoo 804. I could see the neon as I cruised down Broad Street, heading home from what had turned out to be a wasted night. The guy I’d been seeing on and off the past few weeks had chosen tonight to break things off with me…after I paid for dinner, of course. So I wasn’t in the best of moods as I shifted gears, trying not to hit any of the lights as they flickered from green to red along Richmond’s main drag. I missed the one just before the tattoo parlor, and my brakes squealed as I ground to a halt at the intersection a block away. As I revved my engine, I stole a glance at Tattoo 804’s large, inviting windows—the pool table inside called my name, and I could think of a place or two on my body that needed new ink. Before I could change my mind, I stepped on the gas pedal and shot through the light when it finally turned green, coasted across two lanes of traffic, and eased to a stop at the curb in front of the place. By the time I got inside, though, I began having second thoughts. It was getting late, and I didn’t want to do anything I’d regret in the morning. I didn’t see any hours posted on the door, but I also didn’t see anyone else, either. I was the only customer in the whole place, and I couldn’t hear anything over the pounding hard rock music that pulsed from the walls to tell me I wasn’t alone. No buzzing needles, no employees chatting it up in a corner, nothing. Raising my voice, I called out, “Hello?” I was just about to say f**k it and leave when a guy ducked through a pair of swinging doors that led to a back room. He was my age, late twenties I’d say, of average build, wearing a pair of baggy shorts and an oversized tee under an open button-down shirt that made me peg him as a skater type. A battered cap worn backwards on top of his head hid a head full of peroxide colored curls, but his sideburns and goatee were natural, dark. An earring pierced one bushy eyebrow; another pierced the middle of his nose. His mouth didn’t smile when he looked at me, but his eyes did—large, chocolate eyes, expressive, soft. Despite the tattoos up and down his forearms, despite the rings in his brow and nose and lip, I could stare into eyes like that and lose myself, easily. Despite the night I’d had, my body trilled with lust when those eyes met mine. “‘S up, man?” he asked with a slight nod my way. Suddenly self-conscious, I pointed behind me at the door for no real reason and asked, “You guys closed?” He sort of shrugged. “What do you want?” That didn’t really answer my question. But he didn’t exactly turn me away, so I moved closer to the counter between us and tried to tear my gaze from his. I couldn’t. “Just a small tattoo. Right here.” I pointed at a spot on the left side of my chest, above my heart. “I don’t know what. Just some sort of cool tribal design, I guess. Or hey, how about a nice dotted line with the words, Insert knife and twist?” With a laugh that didn’t quite earn me a smile, he asked, “One of those nights, eh?” “I’ve had better.” Leaning on the counter, he appraised me for a long moment, silent. I was just about to ask if maybe he wanted to lock up the place and hop in my car for a spin, see if he couldn’t improve my mood, when he reached down to flick a switch just out of my sight. Behind me, the Open sign winked out. “Latch the door for me, will you?” he asked. “You’re my last customer of the night. We’ll see what we can come up with.” “Naw, man,” I said, shaking my head. “If you have to get home…” Now he smiled, finally, and it’d been worth the wait. White teeth flashed at me, even and strong. The front ones were slightly large and he had a faint overbite that was more than a little cute. In fact, for a moment he seemed to be nothing but teeth, flat incisors, sharp cuspids, slightly round premolars, a mouthful of perfect dentistry leering at me. His eyes flashed with a hungry gleam that made my c**k swell in my pants. I wondered if my evening wasn’t starting to turn around.