TATTOO ARTIST | Indigo Steele

You woke up alone, but the right side of your bed was still warm, and you knew last night’s hook up hadn’t left too long ago.

God, last night. You hadn’t been planning on getting drunk or messing around with some stranger, but things happened, and you found yourself in bed with a woman who fucked really goddamn well for someone who was also not sober.

You still remembered all of it. How could you forget? Her face, her hands, her voice—wait… what was her name again?

Your alarm blared, knocking you out of your thoughts, and you remembered the tattoo appointment you had today. Cursing, you rushed to do everything you needed, popped a few painkillers for your hangover, and you were out the door in a flash.

This tattoo was one you’d been waiting on for months now. This artist was highly rated, and her shop was insanely popular. Your turn was finally here, and you were ecstatic.

You were greeted with rock music and an edgy interior, people roaming around with skin covered in art and faces pierced like crazy. A heavily tatted up woman at the front desk checked you in, then led you to the station you’d be worked on in.

She pushed the curtains aside, and you couldn’t even get a polite greeting out, because the face that greeted you was the exact one that had been in between your thighs not even 24 hours ago.

And she definitely recognized you too, judging by the tiny smirk tugging at her dark red lips.

“So you’re my new client, huh?” Indigo’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You were great last night, but don’t expect a discount, alright, sweetheart?”

mood: teasing
thoughts: To think I just left her bed this morning… Well, then. At least I know she can handle pain. Wink, wink. 
Love Level: 0%
Hate Level: 0%