Beautiful Disaster

"I’m the wrong guy to ask about that. All this hit me as out of the blue as you."

"Except for the part where it was obvious from the cunt she’s been acting like whenever it was the four of us out together that this all had to blow up in their faces eventually."

I mull that over in my thoughts, and while I have to admit that I wouldn’t have phrased it like that, Bella does have a point.

"Maybe."

"Or he’s a way better actor than either of us gives him credit for," Bella jokes, but her eyes hold more doubt than I feel over his motives.

"You think? Because if that’s the case we should nominate him for an Academy Award."

Now it’s her turn to seem surprised, but she gets over that quickly.

"Maybe I’m just wanting him to be lying. But to me it feels like there’s so much more to this than he told us."

"Well, he didn’t really tell us anything, except that she kicked him out and things weren’t going as well as they should have."

"True," she admits, but the frown remains on her face. Then the set of her jaw turns stubborn, or at least determined, and her eyes remain fixed on mine.

"Something like that can’t happen to us, right? You wouldn’t just eat something up and let it fester and grow until it’s unsolvable?"

"No, I wouldn’t."

"Promise me."

I’m a little miffed that she needs that reassurance, but I can see how important it is for her, so I indulge her.

"I promise, I will never keep anything from you that could turn into such a disaster. Even if I know it will hurt you, I will tell you and be completely honest with you, because I know in the end, it will hurt a lot less than when it all comes out later in a fight. And I know you’ll do the same."

She nods, still serious, but then a smile spreads on her face.

"Speaking of things that might become a problem …"

"Yes?"

Her gaze turns downright shrewd.

"If it’s getting over fourteen days I’m so gonna safeword my ass out of this hellhole of frustration and f**k myself raw on your cock! Just so you know!"

Her words – and also her forceful sincerity – make me laugh, to the point where she’s a step away from being offended.

"I really mean it!"

"I know you do," I reply, then give her the most stern look I can manage, which is probably still more playful than fierce. "I knew all that compliance and meekness couldn’t last that long."

Bella huffs but can’t hide a hint of chagrin at having gotten caught.

"So what, I’m selfish, I need to come eventually! This whole spiel wouldn’t work if I could just go on living in frustration forever!"

"That would just be boring," I admit, then lean down to kiss her roughly.

"Tomorrow evening, seven sharp, I expect you kneeling in the playroom, and you better be asking me to punish you for that little diatribe just now."

She laughs into my mouth, not even in the least bit frightened.

"I’d love to, but you know we can’t."

"Says who?"

"Says that card over there on the dresser. Or have you already forgotten our appointment?"

I actually have, with all that drama that our guest has brought with him, but now I know again why I’ve wanted to make sure that she won’t go to bed unsatisfied again tonight.

"Shit, that’s tomorrow?"

Bella laughs, then lightly kisses my throat, her lips vibrating with her chuckle.

"Yes, tomorrow. Or are you getting cold feet?"

"Nope, just forgot."

"So, no playroom fun at seven?"

"Doesn’t look like it, no."

"Too bad," she retorts, her laugh leaving me guessing if she’s really relieved or also disappointed in parts. Then she turns over so that her back is once again pressed against my chest, and before long I can hear her breath even out as she falls asleep.

No playtime, as it seems, because tomorrow my beautiful girlfriend and I are going to get inked.

Chapter 23

There’s one thing I’ve never expected I will think of myself – that I’m a wimp.

But today I’m obviously proven wrong.

It all starts pretty relaxed – we’ve been to the tattoo studio twice before to see the artists’ works firsthand and talk about our designs. While Bella has been fussing over hers together with Mandy, the owner’s daughter who Bella instantly connected with, I’ve decided to pretty much wing it. Carlos, the owner himself, is an acclaimed free hand artist, and I trust him to get the dragon on the canvas of my left upper arm right.

It’s weird how downright giddy I feel, but for obvious reasons I can’t be as exuberant about it as Bella is – at breakfast she’s been pretty much unable to concentrate on anything else, and when we meet up at the tattoo studio after work she seems a step away from squealing with delight. I still wonder if part of it is due to Jazz not hanging around, as he chooses to go running instead of eating with us.

As she and Mandy have the design all planned and already drawn up, the stencil is quickly transferred to Bella’s right shoulder over her shoulder blade, and after a last check that everything is where it belongs, Mandy sets to work. Bella barely winces as she remains hunched over her chair, looking serene and nearly relaxed except for the constant chatter going on between her and the woman wielding the tattoo gun. She has decided to get a heavily shaded Calla lily, no extra colors added, but the outline alone promises to yield a stunning, elegant flower to soon bloom on her back.

Meanwhile Carlos is busy sketching the dragon on my arm, and we don’t really talk that much – then again I get the impression he’s equally amused about Bella and his daughter giggling and laughing away like old friends, and I don’t feel like breaking his concentration. It’s fascinating to watch him draw a few lines that seem only like a natural emphasis of my muscles at first, then keep building up on them until I have a red penciled fierce predator curled around itself all over the outside of my arm, from the shoulder down to nearly my elbow.

"About what you had in mind?" Carlos asks, and I nod.

"Even better. Let’s do this."

When he starts mixing the colors I’m still somewhat calm, but from the moment he turns on the tattoo gun, I feel my cool slipping away. And damn, that stuff is uncomfortable.

At first I try telling myself that the feeling will pass – after all it’s quite ridiculous that I of all people should have problems with a little pain – but it doesn’t. In fact it only gets worse when he moves up from the fleshier part of my arm to the bones at the shoulder, and I feel myself break out in cold ysweat all over. For half an hour that goes mostly unnoticed, until Bella asks Mandy to take a break because she has to use the restroom – and when she returns and looks over to us to check the progress, she gives a strangled guffaw that doesn’t sit well at all with my ego.

"Everything alright with you?" she asks, her voice unable to hide the laughter she tries to hold back, and at her words Mandy of course turns to us, too. Her critical gaze rakes me, then she shrugs.

"Maybe you should take a break. Eat and drink something, you’ll feel better in a few minutes."

Carlos stops after finishing the next line, then glances at my face.

"Dude, you really are pale."

"I’m fine," I hiss between clenched teeth, then give up when I realize just how ridiculous I’m acting. Bella bats her lashes at me as she sits down again, then ignores my glare when she resumes their chat with, "You know, normally he’s not such a wuss."

Oh girl, you’ve got it comin’!

Carlos is nice enough to pretend he needs to call another client when I’m done jugging down a can of coke so I get a little more respite. When we resume our session I’m still not exactly enjoying myself but the discomfort is more tolerable; seeing the tattoo slowly come to life on my arm is helping a lot, too, and I can’t help thinking that it would still be worth it even if it hurt ten times as much.