Wild Horses

I'm an unknown, self-taught, small time tattooist; working out of my home; inking friends and kin; occasionally helping out other tattooist at biker rallies.

I started doing tattoos because my full time job sucks; I want to retire in five years; but still need something to pay the freight.

I was determined that it would be something I enjoyed.

My niece, in her late twenties, thought it would be cool to have a tattoo party. She had it all lined out and pitched it to me; she would invite all her friends, provide me a good space to work in; she would be the sacrificial lamb and could guarantee that I would be busy all night. I got to keep all money, and she would get the rep of throwing killer parties.

I like to think that I can recognize a baited hook when I see one…. but once a fish, always a fish…not only did I bite…I bit big.

I took my time; hell; I went out of my way preparing.

The party happened with the official results coming in something like: one free tattoo of a dolphin on my niece's ankle accompanied by the cheers and jeers of an audience of twenty or so people; my flash scattered around the room; five less business cards; standing in my skivvies to show the work I've done on myself; packing it in early before I got roped in to being designated driver for one of them drunk puppies.

The unofficial results were much better.

Close to two weeks later I took a call from a woman named Kath, who had been at the infamous party. She tells me she wants a tattoo but was too embarrassed in front of those people; she liked my work but has her own design; would feel most comfortable in her own setting; and wants an estimate and maybe start on Saturday.

I tell her it sounds good to me, and get directions. Hanging up I'm thinking, "estimate"? Probably just another set piece, but if she offers me coffee I'll cut some slack.

Saturday came, clear and mild; figured I'd kill two birds; packed what I thought was needed in my saddlebags and headed out of the city thirty or so miles to her place.

As I pulled down her drive, I saw a woman and the biggest shaggy Airedale I'd ever seen, sitting on the porch. The woman smiled and waved, the dog started and then halted midway down the steps. I got off the bike, squatted down with my arms resting on my knees, looked at the dog and said, "Well look at you! What's your name big dog?" The next thing I know, that stub of a tail is going, and I'm getting my face washed. I heard some laughter and looked up to see the woman coming down the steps. She stopped six feet away, said, "that's Sally. She sure took to you in a hurry."

I smiled and rubbing the dog and my beard, said, "We've got something in common."

That got me a smile an outstretched hand and a "hi, I'm Kath,

I'm glad you found the place. Come on in, Nick, I've got coffee going if you're interested."

If I had to give my first impression of Kath in one word, it would have to be, wounded. I'd know that look anywhere, having seen it in mirrors for the past 10 years.

Kath and I made small talk over coffee in her kitchen. She volunteered her age, 46, that she was long divorced, never any kids, worked from home, was invited to the party by a friend of a friend, and pretty much did as she pleased most of the time.

I gave up, 53, widowed, two sons grown and gone, three grandkids that can do no wrong, I liked her home, and that if she wasn't careful I would steal her dog.

With a smile in her eyes she said, "If you're ready, let me show you what I want done."

She led me through a set of double doors into a room that must've been 30 feet square, open ceiling with four large skylights, the only windows being wrapped around the two far corners. Those corners were occupied by a large computer set up, the other by a large drafting table. The remainder of the room was furnished with futon couches set in a U shape around a wood stove in the center of the room. In the corners by the doors were a small loom with work in progress, and a platform that was raised a foot or so above the floor. Large bookcases, plants, wall hangings, a mirror, and sculptures were placed along the walls.

I turned around in a circle to take in the space and a long, descending whistle escaped from my mouth.

"You like it?" I heard.

Nodding my head, I said, "Oh yeah."

Kath said, "I can't remember the last time someone else has been in here."

"Thanks for sharing," I said.

Kath was standing by the drafting table, and as I joined her there, she pointed at the table. On a large sheet of paper was a drawing of a chain; woven between the links was a leafless vine with thorns. In the center, an old fashioned lock joined two links of the chain with the keyhole and manufacturers name on the face.

"You drew this?" I said.

Kath pointed at her computer, and said, "With a lot of help from, Donna."

I couldn't help but smile. Looking back to the drawing, I placed my hands as I would to work and began to trace across the design. "Where did you want this," I asked, "Around your waist?"

It got real quiet for a moment, and then Kath whispered, "Yes."

"OK. You two do real nice work," I said, "But there's one small problem. I can't do this the way it's laid out."

"Where, what!" Kath exclaimed, "I've been over and over it countless times, there's nothing wrong with it, you don't know what you're talking about, Donna is never wrong!"

"Calm down, Kath. The design is perfect." I said, looking up at her. "I guess I used the wrong words. Let me try this again, OK?"

She looked relieved, and nodded.

I looked her in the eye, and started with, "What you want is going to last a lifetime, yours as well as mine. I won't do work of this size that doesn't fit you." I paused for a moment and said, "Do you trust me?"

Kath looked away from me.

I waited patiently.

She finally turned back and nodded.

"No," I said, "I want to hear you."

She looked me in the eye and softly said, "Yes."

I smiled, said "Good. Let's get busy."

At my direction she printed out four more copies of her design, cut the design out in a strip and taped the strips together, ending with a continuous design about four feet long.

I motioned her to an open spot in the floor, told her that I was ready to see my canvas, and asked her to unzip her jeans, push them down just past her hips, telling her that if she kept her legs spread a little they wouldn't fall. She blushed, but did it. I then handed her the strip, instructing her to place it around her waist where she thought it should be, overlap it an inch or two, cut off any excess and tape it in place. She struggled with this as her jeans kept falling to her knees, until, with a curse, she took her jeans all the way off, kicked them off to the side, and the rest was easy. Kath had a look on her face like 'a job-well-done', to be replaced by another blush as she realized she was standing in front of a strange man in her panties, until, that is, she looked at me standing there with my hand over my mouth trying not to laugh at her antics.

"No fair!" she cried, with her hands on her hips. Raising one hand, cocked like a gun she said, "Drop 'em mister!"

"As you wish, my lady," I replied.

Kath watched as I complied with her wish. When I had thrown my jeans on top of hers, she walked towards me saying, "I didn't get to see your tattoos very good the other night. Can I look at them now?"

I smiled and nodded. She knelt before me and asked, "Can I touch them?"

I nodded again.

She touched with just one finger at first, tracing it out and then placed her hand on my leg and stroked.

I cleared my throat and said, "You better stop."

"Why?" she asked. And then said, "Oh!"

As she stood, I told her I needed something to drink. She got us both a bottle of water from a small fridge under the drafting table. I used both the water and the time to cool off.

I noticed a full length, freestanding mirror along one wall. I asked her to face it with me standing behind her. I told her to look at the chain, and to notice that it was basically a straight line, that it didn't look natural. I told her to watch, reached around her, placed both index fingers on the slight indentation below her stomach, and then sliding my fingers along the crease to her waist and then over her hipbones. She gasped as I did that and her flesh rose in goose bumps.

"Now doesn't that seem more natural?" I asked.

"I wasn't paying attention, she said. Do it again."

I complied with her wish, only this time as my fingers reached her hips; I went down on one knee and let my fingers continue around and into the small of her back.

I heard a soft moan and then she said, "Yes. Yes, I see what you mean."

"Good, I said, wait here, I'll be right back."

I went to her desk, found some sheets of paper and a marker, and then rejoined her at the mirror. Taking a sheet of paper and holding it against her body, I used the marker to trace the line I would follow. I worked my way around her, making marks on each page to help with lining everything up for later stages. When I finished, we went back to the drafting table and I laid everything out, asking if she and Donna could do the design along these curves. Kath assured me that with the programs in Donna it would be no problem.

Kath, headed for, Donna. I gazed out the window and thought out the rest of job.

I interrupted her with, "Ah, Kath, we've got another problem."

Then proceeded to explain and apologize about how I figured this to be just another nickel and dime job, and that I didn't bring even half the equipment I would need, ending with, "Say, I'm getting hungry anyway; what would you say to a motorcycle ride to a joint I know, my treat? I promise I'll be back tomorrow and we'll put a real dent on this job."

One of her smiles lit up her face and she was dressed, and at the doors complaining about how slow I was before I had even one leg in my jeans.

We were headed for, Pete's, a small bar and grill that I knew of that was pretty close to her house, when she tapped me on the leg and half yelled in my ear, "This is great! I wanted to ask you for a ride this morning, but I was afraid to ask."

In the parking lot, I took her hand, and said, "Kath, you're not a customer anymore, you're a friend. Don't you ever be afraid to tell or ask me for anything, you hear?"

With a thoughtful look on her face, she nodded, and we headed for the door, hand in hand.

We had a good time. Talked and laughed, shared food and memories, tossed back a couple of beers each; and now that I think about it, we both listened.

On the way back to her place, I thought about how much time I spent alone and in my head; realized I was doing it again by thinking about it.

Kath asked me in when we got to her house, but I begged off claiming too much to do.

Her last words, from her porch were, "You are coming back, aren't you?"

Smiling, I said, 'Wild horses, Kath, wild horses."

I pulled in around six o'clock the next morning with coffee and donuts, to a swinging dog door and Sally acting happy as all get out to see me. We talked and played 'pet me all over' until I realized that Kath had never made an appearance. I climbed the steps and knocked, waited, and knocked again, louder. Sally went inside; I heard some barks; and a couple of minutes later Kath opened the door. She looked good, in a what-the-cat-drug-in kind of way. She slipped her arms under mine and hugged me; then headed for the kitchen. She sipped at her coffee; turned her nose up at the donuts; started mumbling about her problem with 'damn Donna'. I got her to stand, picked her up, and carried her down the hall to the only open door and placed her on the bed. I sat next to her and told her to sleep; Sally and I had stuff to keep us busy. I pulled the cover up and closed the door.

I drank both coffees; Sally had the lion's share of the donuts, with a bowl of milk.

I was busy in the big room setting up my equipment when I heard a "hi", and turned to see Kath coming across the room wearing a robe, her hair wet but brushed out, carrying two cups of coffee.

"Hi gorgeous, feeling better?"

She nodded, set a cup down by me, walked to the computer; hit a button and the printer started.

I watched her stand there, drinking her coffee. She seemed nervous. She kept moving little things around, stop, and then move the same things back to where they were.

The printer stopped and she brought the pages over to the table and layed them out. She said over her shoulder, "what do you think?"

I went over next to her, bent over with my elbows on the table, and took a long look, end to end. Still looking down, I said, "beautiful, just like you."

I looked at her, she mumbled, "thanks" turned away, and with a shaky sound to her voice said, "what's next?"

I picked up the pages for the left hip and stomach, fed one into the stencil maker, and said, "stencil," waited, fed the next in, waited, said, "done."

With that same shaky quality, I heard, "already?"

I motioned her to the futon and pillows I had placed on the floor. Explaining as I went along, I placed her on her right side, with me behind her, starting with her hip I could then roll her towards me for her stomach. As I began to pull one side of her robe open to expose her hip, she jumped and her entire body went rigid. I pet her for a moment, chalking it up to being a virgin. Her panties were going to be a problem, so I explained that she would have to hold them down, or if she just removed them, she could use the other side of her robe to cover herself.

She chose the later, and as she lifted herself to remove them, I turned and busied myself with my equipment.

When she said that she was ready, I turned back and explained that I was going to clean, lightly shave, clean, and place the stencils. There wasn't much to shave, just some fine golden hairs that had probably never known a razor.

Waiting for the stencils to set, I spoke softly, telling her that we were almost ready to begin; that it would most likely sting, and in some areas worse than others; to just try and relax; talk if she needed; and if it started to get to her, let me know and I will stop. There was no rush, this was not a one setting job in any case, and that if it takes more visits than I figured, that was OK by me because I really enjoyed being with her.

I turned to check the setting on the machine one more time, and as I hit the switch I thought I heard a sob. I set the machine down and turned back to Kath. Her entire body was shaking; she had her hands over her face and was crying so hard that I could see the tears dripping from the edge of her hand. I rolled her on to her back, put my hands under her shoulders and lifted her to a sitting position against my chest, hugging and rocking her.

It all started to rush out of her, all about don't hurt her, she didn't want a tattoo, she only wanted to meet me, be with me, didn't think I would like her if she didn't get one, don't hate her; on and on she went emptying herself.

I couldn't take any more. I had tears in my eyes as I looked around for something soft; let go of her; and pulled my t-shirt off.

I began to softly call her name over and over and finally got her hands away from her face. I gently smoothed her hair out of the way and started to dry her tears with my shirt, telling her, "I told you not to be afraid, I care for you, Kath. Aw hell, I think I love you Kath."

Kath got to her knees, threw her arms around me, her lips on my neck, whispered, "I'll never be afraid with you here. I love you too, Nick."

I drew back a bit, took Kath's head between my hands, searched her face, wiped some final tears away with my thumbs, smiled, got a smile in return, and gently kissed her.

We stayed that way for a time. Kissing, being kissed; holding, being held. I whispered against her lips, "I want you, Kath." She whispered back against mine, "let me freshen up." After another kiss, I released her and watched her out of the room.

I unplugged the equipment and slid it behind a plant; lie back on the futon; closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened my eyes, Kath was standing there, still in her robe. I reached towards her with one hand, patted the futon with the other. She playfully shook her head no, said, "Come over here."

As she walked away, she untied her robe, let it slip from her shoulders and fall to the floor. She stood facing the mirror, looked at me over her shoulder, smiled impishly, and said, "I wasn't paying attention, do it again."

I could see her watching me through the mirror as I stood.

"So she wants to play," I thought. "Well we'll just see about this." I slowly unzipped my jeans and emptied my pockets. I let my jeans slide down my legs, sat down and pulled them from one leg, then the other. As I straightened up, I put on my best karate sensei impression by drawing in a large breath, raising my arms above my head so that my hands met in prayer, then suddenly dropping both arms, hands clenched with index fingers extended, thrust my hands towards Kath, and exhaling, "YOU!"

Kath jumped, and started laughing hard. I waited for her to calm, and when I saw her watching me, I dropped my arms to my sides and started slowly towards her. As I neared, I did my Mr. Myagi, clapping my hands, then rubbing them together briskly while growling a chant in my throat. I didn't stop my rubbing or chanting, and her eyes got big as I came up behind her. Raising my arms over her head and down around her body, my face above hers in the mirror, I gave her my vampire stare locking her eyes to mine. Suddenly, my hot hands went to Kath's breasts, her nipples between my middle fingers, and I pulled her against me; at the same time, my open mouth found the pulse on her neck, my tongue making small, pushing circles as I continued the growling chant.

Kath's body went rigid; I slid my left hand across her stomach, stopping with the heel of my hand on her pubic mound and one finger sliding between her lower lips to circle her clit. Her lower body arced away from me for a moment, then came back and did a series of small humps. "Oh…oh…oh…oh," escaped from her lips; timed with her movements. In the mirror, I watched her body flush starting at her thighs and moving upwards across her stomach to her breasts and finally her neck and face.

I felt good.

When she had calmed, I whispered, "just for you, Kath. Only for you."

Kath, turned in my arms, her head on my chest, one hand between us, seeking and finding my cock; stroking its length, making it pulse with her touch, turned her face to the mirror and found me looking at her. "My man, she said, "my beautiful man. No more games. I want you, Nick. I want you in me, now."

Kath led me to the fouton, faced me, put her thumbs in the waistband of my briefs and pushed them down; following with her body, she was kneeling as I moved my feet and kicked my briefs away. Kath reached for my cock, but I put my hands under her arms and urged her back to her feet. "Like you said, no more games," I whispered.

I bent down and kissed her, letting my lips move to her throat, and then between her breasts, and across her stomach, my hands keeping pace from her armpits, along the outside of her breasts to her hips. I ended up resting back on my heels, my knees on the futon and between her legs. I pulled her closer to me, and with a siight pressure from my hands on her hips, got her to slide down my body; my lips going back the way they had come. I felt my cock touch the heat of her pussy. Kath gave a little wiggle to line us up, and then slowly inching her way down; her pussy nipping, my cock pulsing; she gave me the ultimate sharing.

Our lips meet, and in a hungry, sucking, biting frenzy, we both moan meaningless things into each other's mouth. We are one. We are all.