The Story Teller

"OK, I know, it's like a cheap soap opera that I just can't stop watching. I guess I have become as addicted to his voice as his tattoo needle." admitted Megan.

Aubrey sighed wistfully and asked, "So... when can I meet this guy?"

"Well, would you like to go to Vegas with us?" asked Megan brightly, "There is a tattoo convention out there in the fall. It would be fun to have you along."

"Oh, absolutely!" gushed Aubrey. "I am soooo there!"

Megan watched the enthusiasm fade from Aubrey's face. She seemed fixated on Megan's leg and her expression became more wanton, more envious. She smiled to herself because she recognized that look. Her friend was well on her way-- past passion and onto obsession.

"Meijuan and Alberto married in Macau and lived for a time in a small room by the docks. Refugees were pouring into the city and the Portuguese were rapidly losing control, because they had other problems with insurgence at home. Meijuan and her man decided to leave. Neither had a home country that was safe to retreat to so Alberto secreted his wife in a storage area below deck, on a steam ship he was working. It was bound for America with trade goods and spices," said Dan as his hands and needles relentlessly worked across Megan's back.

"Poor girl," said Megan "She must have been really scared."

Dan nodded, "Yes. The trip took weeks, and she was trapped in a damp metal compartment that reeked of fuel oil and rotted fish. Had she been found, it is likely she would have been thrown overboard. Such was the treatment for Asian stowaways in those days."

"Don't you think she could have charmed the sailors, like she did in China?" asked Megan.

"No, the captain was notorious for his cruelty and bigotry. It was Albert's love for her that kept her safe and fed during the trip. He told no one, because they couldn't take the risk. It was critical the Meijuan stay hidden till the end," said Dan.

The tattoo artist released his foot switch and the tattoo machine buzz stopped. He ran his gloved hand slowly over Megan's back, from the nape of her neck to the dimples above her ass. The tattoo under his fingers was the most complex design he had done for her yet, and he was pleased that it was forming up on her body so well.

"How is it looking?" asked Megan. She had her arms scrunched under her to keep from flattening her boobs and her fists curled up by her chin with her head turned to the side. She couldn't see his face as he bent over her, but she could feel his fingers lovingly trace the skin on her back.

"Megan," Dan asked, "How comfortable are you being naked in public?"

"What???" said Megan, startled, as she jerked her head up.

Dan's chuckle was reassuring. "Hehe. Well, we're going to the tattoo convention in Las Vegas, you know," he said.

"Yes. I'm looking forward to it. I've never been to one." said Megan.

Dan paused and said, "Your back piece is really, really coming out good. I am entering you in contest at the convention."

There it was again, a command, not a request, but Megan now felt an intrinsic connection with Dan from their sessions, and respected his need for recognition. Also, the thought of finally revealing herself to the world as a collector thrilled her. What better way than to pose naked for a thousand horny men with cameras?

"If you help me pick out clothes that are easy to put on... and take off," said Megan, "I'll do it."

Megan walked through the hotel lobby, her heels clicking on its ornate polished floor. She wore an ankle length, form-fitting dress of sheer periwinkle fabric and a white jean jacket. A large tote bag swung at her side as she navigated the crowd clustered around the registration desk.

"Megan!" called a voice in the crowd.

Thinking it might have been Dan, who was checking them in, she turned and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Gabe! What are YOU doing here?" she asked.

Her old boyfriend stood awkwardly a few feet away. They were surrounded by a pandemonium of vacationers in holiday attire. Some already had tall, fruity drinks in their hands complete with paper umbrellas and very long plastic straws. Gabe may have been the only person for miles wearing a suit.

"I...I thought it was you..." he stammered. His eyes were drawn to Megan's up-swept hairdo. In the time they had been together, he'd never known her to do anything so elegant with her hair. Mother would have approved.

"Gabe? What are you doing here?" Megan repeated.

Snapped from his reverie, Gabe said, "Oh, I'm here for a seminar, for, ah, business... My God! You look great!"

Megan couldn't help but smile. "Thank you. I feel great." she said. "It's good to see you, too!" she lied.

Gabe moved a step closer, and said, "Say, since we're both here... why don't we get some drinks, to, you know, catch up?" He had that cheesy, horny expression that Megan hated so much.

"Sorry, Gabe. I'm here for a convention and I won't have the time." she said firmly.

At that moment, Dan stepped out of the crowd with two plastic key cards in his hand. "We're all checked in, babe," he said as he gave her a peck on the cheek.

A mischievous smile crept over Megan's face as she watched Gabe's face turn sour. She hooked her hand around Dan's neck, pulled herself into him and kissed him full on the lips.

Not getting the brushoff message, Gabe's face reddened. Then he noticed a tattoo rising over the collar of Dan's black shirt. He said loudly, "Oh, so you're hanging with tattooed bikers now, huh? Is this the freak you've been wasting time with?"

The cacophony of the crowd seemed to dim and passing hotel guests began forming a rough circle around the three of them, guessing a fist-fight was about to start.

Dan took a step forward and Megan could feel the muscles in his arms harden. She held him back and said, as cordially as she could muster, "Gabe, we're here for the tattoo convention." She nodded at a cardboard placard on a tripod in the lobby center, welcoming guests to the International Body Art Festival.

Gabe's mouth hung open and he tugged his tie and collar open as if the fire lighting up his cheeks needed more air. "So, you're here to see THAT show? Don't tell me want to get a tattoo!" he shouted. "How could I take you back after that? Why would ANYONE want you if you're tattooed like a street walker!"

The crowd, many there for the same convention, chimed in with a round if obscene catcalls and halfhearted boos.

"Who IS this guy?" asked Dan, suddenly becoming more aggressive. Megan stepped in front of him and said, "Let me handle this."

She stood between the two men, faced Gabe and set her carryall on the ground. The crowd grew quiet to hear what she had to say. Even her ex-boyfriend quieted and straightened up.

"Gabe," she began, as she removed her jacket and handed it to Dan, "You know we've been apart for a long time."

"Yeah, but..." pleaded Gabe.

Megan held up her hand to silence him. She unbuttoned three buttons at the top of her dress, and making sure she had Gabe's attention, and said, "Yet, you refuse to believe it's over between us. I need to tell you, there will be no going back-- not from this." She waved her hand with a flourish, the birds on her chest came into view and Gabe's jaw dropped.

Megan turned quickly to the tattoo artist and said, "I love you, Dan, more than I can say." She kissed him again, pulled the dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground.

A hush fell over the lobby as Megan's exquisitely rendered back piece came into view. A very animated Chinese goddess of war and sex, riding a phoenix with cinnabar wings spread across Megan's back. Among thunder clouds and nine-color trailing robes, she held aloft a sword to exact vengeance on those who would harm the innocent. A glowing pearl lit her placid white face and cherry lips as a reminder, she was, first and foremost, a sensual, sexual woman sent from heaven.

While the crowd fumbled with their cell phones to fire up video apps, Megan turned slowly to exhibit the extent of her tattoos. A fox curled around her right thigh, chasing small animals and insects that rose across her stomach. Scattered dragonflies morphed into birds as they swept up between her boobs, landing on her chest, and the artist had captured a chameleon on her left leg in mid transformation from flesh color to green.

It was all done in a rich neo-Asian style and the composition covered most of Megan's back, torso and thighs.

After two turns, Megan faced Gabe again.

"So, dear Gabriel," she said sympathetically, "I'm not here to see the show." She paused and then added dramatically, "I AM the show."

A cheer rose up from the crowd as dozens of fellow convention-goers muscled in closer to capture the event for posterity. Gabe was pelted with water bottles and drink cups as he was sucked back into the throng. Dan threw Megan's jacket over her shoulders; and scooped up her dress and bag as he hustled her out of the lobby. "Honey," he said with a grin, "I think that stunt just earned us a spot at the winner's table."

Aubrey popped her head out of a souvenir shop just off the lobby. She saw Dan and a giggling, half-naked Megan rush by, and called after them, "Hey, what'd I miss?"

On the morning after the convention, Dan was hunched over Megan again working between her legs. He found himself distracted by her breasts, one tattooed and one not, as they danced before him, teasing him to reach out and squeeze them. Megan, for her part, was stretched out, enjoying the adrenaline rush that coursed through her body as Dan's tool pierced her over and over again. She marveled at the intensity and concentration on his face, knowing that was all for her. She was his muse. She was his canvas. She was his lover.

A rivulet of sweat rolled off of Dan's forehead and shook from his brow when Megan suddenly convulsed and called out. She gripped his arm and said hoarsely, "No. Don't stop." Dan nodded curtly, knowing he was close to finishing. His brow furrow deepened and he redoubled his efforts. Megan spread her legs a little wider to give the tattoo artist better purchase, and he took full advantage of the opening, leveraging every scintilla of his being for the final strokes.

A few moments later, it was done. Dan collapsed beside Megan, exhausted from the marathon effort. His body pulsed with endorphins and he did finally pass his hand over her chest and grasp her tattooed boob, affectionately tweaking her nipple. Megan instinctively reached between her legs and her fingers found a small puddle of semen tangled in the short hair above her vagina.

"I'd like to find the guy who invented heart shaped tubs," said Dan still catching his breath. "He's a genius!"

Megan laughed and added, "Or the girl who invented satin sheets!" She sat up on the bed and looked around the room nodding, while Dan idly scratched her back.

"It was sure nice of the hotel to comp us the honeymoon suite," she said.

"It was all you, babe," said Dan as he rubbed the flat of his hand over her intricate tattoo. "You're blowing up on social media, and I guarantee, there are thousands of guys out there today wishing they were me right now," he chuckled.

Megan laid back next to Dan with her arm draped over his fuzzy belly. She wrinkled her nose and said, "No, silly, it was YOUR tattoo work that won best in show. I'm just proud to have been your canvas."

Dan rolled up on his elbow and pressed his body into Megan's. He kissed her and ran his hand down her side to her thigh. "I promise you," he said, "You will always be my canvas. And, trust me, I have plenty more ideas..."

Megan drew her finger tips playfully over her tattooed fox and asked with faux sincerity, "Oh really? Do you have more stories of your grandmother to fill in the blank places on my skin?"

Surprised that Megan had figured out the truth about his source of inspiration, Dan's eyes widened and he smiled sheepishly. Then, laughing, he said, "Have I told you about my grandfather yet?"

In a smaller room one floor down and at the end of the hall, Aubrey twisted around in front of a tall mirror eyeing the tiny bunny rabbit tattooed on her butt. It was about two inches square and sat high enough that it could be covered with a bikini but not a thong. She smiled remembering Dan's considerate touch and the momentary pain as he injected ink under her fair skin. It really had not been as bad a she thought it would be. Of course, Megan was holding her hand and reassuring her through the whole process.

Aubrey decided she loved the cute little bunny and was really looking forward to showing it off at the pool back home.

As she pulled and prodded the skin around her tattoo, stretching it just to see it bounce back, she imagined how it would look if it were larger. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought of her butt cheek being covered in permanent color and then having the ink extended down her leg to her ankle. What would she put there? There were so many, SO many possibilities. What if she just let an artist pick a design for her? What if...?

Aubrey closed her eyes and reached between her legs as she dreamed of a handsome tattooist rescuing her from a life of groceries and tennis lessons. Her hand motion quickened as she considered how it would feel to be lying naked on a padded table, submitting to a man determined to tattoo her body from head... to toe.

Now, that's a story we'd all love to hear.