Castello glanced at me before turning his attention back to two sketches he held in his hand. “She’ll go with it.”
“Go with what?” I demanded, hating the fact I was being ignored.
Castello placed the sketches back down on the table and pulled off his jacket before he turned to face me. As he rolled up the sleeve of his right arm, he said, “You and I are getting tattoos.”
I almost swallowed my tongue. “We are what?”
Joey started to move around the table, the word fuck dropping out of his mouth every two seconds.
Castello grabbed a chair and sat down, placing his arm on the table next to him. “Sit down, Tatum. I’ll go first.”
“Castello, I am not getting a tattoo.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Give me one good reason why I should.”
He snapped his head in my direction, and dark eyes glared at me with warning. All it took was one look and his authority over me came smashing down like boulders on me. With that one look, he conveyed the message loud and clear…I didn’t have a choice.
Carefully, nervously, I sat down on the bed. Yes, I was an artist, and I liked tattoos…onotherpeople. But getting a tattoo myself was never something I considered. It wasn’t something that interested me when it came to my body.
I watched in silence as Joey shaved the inner part of Castello’s arm. Slow and precise, Joey moved the razor across Castello’s skin. My stomach clenched.
Razor…
Skin…
Relief…
With each carefully long stroke of the razor, my heart beat faster. Veins bulged under Castello’s flawless olive skin, the muscled contour of his arm evidence of the strength that pulsed through his body. The silver razor glinted under the light, and for a moment, I imagined that it was me who held the sharp edge of the razor against Castello’s skin. The power, the control of knowing that his pain, his blood would be something I held in the palm of my hand. After everything I let Castello do to me—what I loved for him to do to me—I never once thought about how it would feel if I was the one with the power and he the one completely at my mercy. Would I like it?
I imagined pushing the blade just a little harder to make a tiny cut into his perfect skin, to watch his blood escape the wound in brilliant tears of crimson. His body would be my canvass, his blood the beautiful color I’d create a masterpiece with.
What the hell am I thinking?
While I continued to stare at the razor in Joey’s hand, I felt a warm tingle move up my neck. He was watching me. Castello’s dark eyes narrowed as if he was assessing my every expression. He knew what sordid thoughts were running through my mind. He knew the effect all this had on me, seeing a razor glide over his perfect skin.
I looked away. For a moment, I felt ashamed about my thoughts, about wanting to see Castello bleed. I was the one that bled, not him. It was my blood, my pain that made the monsters come out to play. Not his.
Joey moved and caught my eye. He was wiping alcohol over Castello’s cleanly shaven skin. After rubbing soap on Castello’s arm, Joey placed the stencil over the area. I still couldn’t see what the design was, and my curiosity made me lean forward. After Joey removed the paper, all I saw was a glimpse of purple lines.
“You happy?” Joey tossed the paper on the table.
Castello lifted his arm, studied the design for a second, and then nodded.
Joey shook his head. “Always a man of few words hey, Cas?” He removed needles and tubes from their sterile pouches and placed them in the machine before the buzzing sound filled the room. “I must say, when you called asking me to make these designs for you, I was a little shocked, to say the least. I mean, this is quite different from the rest of your artwork.”
It was clear that Castello had no intention of engaging in a conversation with Joey, but Joey kept on talking as if it didn’t bother him in the least that Castello wasn’t participating.
I watched with fascination as Joey inked Castello’s skin. Black lines formed, and with the sound came images of needles piercing skin. Tiny beads of blood pooled on Castello’s arm, which Joey wiped away every few seconds. Not once did I wonder about the pain, how much it had to hurt to have your skin pricked a thousand times. I was used to pain. It no longer scared me. In fact, the prospect of pain excited me. What kind of twisted individual was I?
The entire process took about an hour. It was an hour I spent every second of watching, witnessing as Joey inked, marked, and shaded Castello’s skin. After applying the ointment and dressing, Joey clapped his hands.
“And that’s a wrap for number one. Next lady for a shave?” He glanced my way, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
“It’s your turn, Tatum.” Castello stood by the chair, waiting for me to take my seat.
I rubbed my sweaty palms nervously across my thighs and took a deep breath. Earlier I had told Castello that I trusted him, so now was the time for me to put my words into actions.