Traditional Change (3 page)

Rebecca didn't respond. What was there to say? Should she tease him back? All she knew was that her face was hot as hell, her back hurt like a bitch, she was sweating above her lip, and she may have insulted the one person who could destroy her looks with one slip of his hand. She wasn't exactly holding it together. She was going to give Neely hell for this. Really? Her best friend had to set her up with a spanking tattoo artist? Was this a joke? Or maybe it was just that everyone in the world was now into this kink.

She strained, but couldn't hear any response from behind her. His silence was disturbing, and it made her anxiety do funny things. Suddenly she was worried that he found her back disgusting, and that he just couldn't bear to open his mouth again. Another thought crashed into her head that he was maliciously giving her a bad tattoo because of how much of a rude and offensive beast she was.

The needle started to really hurt, and her body flexed to get out of the seat. Sawyer sat back for a moment and took his time dabbing away some ink.

"Most artists are freaked out when they start tattooing," he said, seemingly completely oblivious to the torrential downpour of fear racing through Rebecca at that moment. "They go in all timid and shit, freaked out every time they pick up a machine."

"But not you, huh?" she asked, trying to get her mind off the fact that he was going to turn her back into a sideshow attraction. She was also grateful for the topic change.

"Neh," he answered. "I've always just known I could do this."

The needle whirred and began to cut another streak into her back again. He was working right over her ribs this time and the sensation was unreal.

"They say that when you get your first tattoo, you should get it on a spot with a lot of muscle or fat beneath it to help pad the sensation. That's why every douchebag redneck you see has a tattoo on the outside of his shoulder. It's because that area doesn't hurt nearly as badly as a tattoo on the forearm or the ribs." Sawyer talked away, describing what parts hurt the worst, and which were pretty easy. Rebecca half listened, but the vibrations and pain in her ribs almost made her want to pass out.

As Sawyer's needle scrawled over the back of her ribcage, Rebecca took a gentle pull of air through her nose and slowly let it out. Holding her breath would be bad, and panting wouldn't be any better since he was cutting right over her lungs. She worked to allow the pain to wash over her and then fade away into the experience.

"Fuck, that hurts," she finally admitted, waiting for the feeling to dull a little.

"Yeah," came his unimpressed answer. "I know. I remember getting mine."

"What's on your back?" Rebecca asked, trying again to distract herself. Part of her mind was still convinced that he was making her back look like an atrocity.

"A bunch of shit," he confessed. "But I have my brother's footprint over this same spot," he said, pressing his thumb into her rib.

"Like a baby footprint?" Rebecca blurted incredulously.

"Fuck that creepy shit," Sawyer muttered. "People don't think about how wacky that's going to be when the kid is all grown up and shit. I mean, I hate it that my mom insisted on keeping baby clothes stored in a closet; like some serial killer's memento box. It would turn my shit white every time I went to Mom's and had to look at my footprint on her goddam leg, like she was a victim of abuse from her toddler."

Rebecca tried to not laugh, knowing that the more she shook the harder it would be for Sawyer, but she was having a hard time fighting the sensation. "Then I'm confused," she confessed.

"It's my brother's footprint," Sawyer explained.

"Your brother's?" she huffed disbelievingly.

"Yup," he replied, grinding the needle over her spine.

"Like…" Rebecca began, then took a breath.

"I got the tattoo when he was an adult," he assured her. "And that fucker wears like a size twelve or something. Took forever."

"And that doesn't freak him out?" she asked, trying to imagine the large black impression over his rounded back.

"Amos?" Sawyer asked. "Neh. He loves it. Every time I see him, he tries to take my shirt off and walk on me. He's kind of an asshole that way. He won a bet, so I had to get it."

Rebecca smothered a laugh into her forearm.

"Stop shaking," Sawyer said in his typical flat tone. "You're really messing with me back here."

"Did you mess up?" she demanded, her mind suddenly awash with images of jagged lines and trailing ends.

"I never mess up," he declared firmly. "If you shake and I go off a line, that's your own fault.
You
mess up."

The laugh from Rebecca was small and uncertain this time. She wasn't sure how to take that. Had he gone off a line? Was there some screw up? What the hell was happening back there? She hated not being able to see what he was doing.

"You know, you cuss a lot," she chided.

Sawyer cleared his throat. "Sorry. Bad habit. It comes with the profession I guess."

"I'm not saying you should stop or anything," she quickly clarified. "It was just an observation."

"Well, it's not one of my finer points. It's a habit I would like to stop. My mother always said that cursing was a sign of a lack of intelligence. Those words haunt me every time I get going on a rampage."

"Sawyer?" came a tired voice from the doorway. Rebecca turned to see the man from the front counter leaning into the room.

"Yeah?" Sawyer answered, in a tone that said he was busy.

"Take a quote?" he asked apologetically.

Sawyer was silent for a moment as he worked his way across Rebecca's shoulder. "Sure," he said after a minute, leaning back to study his work.

"Perfect," the man answered, then said into the hallway, "go on in."

Rebecca watched as a young couple walked into the space with wide eyes and nervous steps.

"Holy shit," the boy said to his girlfriend. Rebecca guessed they couldn't have been a day over eighteen, and the squeak in the boy's voice didn't help with that image. "Look at all this, babe."

"What's up guys?" Sawyer asked, hurrying the interaction along.

The two stood there in shock for a moment, looking at each other and silently debating who should do the talking.

"Let me guess," Sawyer muttered. "You want tattoos?"

The boy laughed awkwardly, and the girl gave a serious nod. "I want the saying on my family's crest tattooed on my arm right here," the boy said then, touching the front of his bicep. "It's Latin, and it means 'We are one, we unite'."

"Just spell check that shit," Sawyer answered, still carving lines in Rebecca's back. "I don't speak Latin. So I'm going to do up whatever you write, and if it's wrong, I will have no way of knowing."

"Yeah, sure," the boy answered quickly.

"What kind of lettering?" Sawyer asked, and Rebecca thought she heard impatience growing in his tone.

"Just like, you know," the kid replied. "Make it look like handwriting, and about this big." He made a circle with his hands, and Sawyer nodded.

"Three hundred bucks," he answered, then tipped his head at the girl. "And you?"

"I, uh…" she sputtered, looking at her boyfriend. "I want my son's footprint on the back of my shoulder."

Rebecca worked hard to keep her face straight.

"Names?" Sawyer asked, his tattoo machine still buzzing away happily. "Dates?"

"Yeah," she answered with a surprised look on her face. "His name and birthday."

"Three hundred and fifty," Sawyer quoted. "Takes about an hour and a half for your Latin, and two hours for your footprint. Just tell the guy at the front."

"Yeah," the boy said with a big smile. "Cool. So, uh…" he began, then swallowed hard. "Does it hurt?"

"Fuck yeah it hurts," Sawyer said evenly, Rebecca giggling at his harsh manner.

"Oh," the boy answered in a sad tone. "Well, okay. That's badass by the way," he added, pointing at Rebecca's back.

"Thanks," Sawyer said, then rotated in his chair so his back was to the young couple. "Let 'em know up front."

The couple stood uncertainly for a moment, then disappeared into the hall without another word.

"Let's get back to your tattoo. You have another hour before your session ends," Sawyer said to Rebecca, placing his hand on her back to lower her down.

"So you hate doing footprints, huh?" she asked, as the needle sliced against her skin again.

"Actually, no. I don't mind them at all. Tattoo artists seem to always tease whatever the trendy tattoo is. Right now that sits pretty high. But it's always different. One year it's the tramp stamp, the next year it is the wrist tattoo."

"Are there any tattoos you won't do?"

"Sure. I won't do any Nazi shit, or tattoos filled with hate. I also limit the dark stuff. If it's too twisted and morbid, I can only do so much. I'm also not good at portraits. I will do them, but it's not my best skill. I make sure to warn the client first, but they always seem to be happy." He paused for a second, wiped at her back, and continued on. "I also won't tattoo on some dude's junk or a chick's pussy. I have no desire to be anywhere near that."

"Not interested in pussy, huh?" Rebecca teased.

Sawyer chuckled. "You know what I mean. I also won't do neck tattoos or face tattoos unless I can see the person clearly is covered in them. If it's a first tattoo, I'm not going to do something that is so drastic it could fuck up their future career. No drunk tattoos either. I take this seriously, and so will my clients."

Rebecca clenched her fists and squeezed her eyes shut. Her back was on fire, and she wasn't sure she was going to be able to sit still for much longer. They both sat in silence for a while, but she needed to focus on something besides the constant burn in her back. He must have sensed her discomfort.

"So, tell me why you decided to get a back piece. Pretty ballsy," Sawyer said over the buzz of the machine.

"I'm asking myself the same question right now." Her voice cracked. "But seriously, I needed to do something to signal a big change, I guess. It's hard to explain, but I need to change the course I've been on. This is sort of jump starting that." She inhaled sharply as he tattooed over a rib again.

"Well I'm pretty damn impressed with how you sat today. You took this tattoo better than most grown men. I got further than I was anticipating. At this rate, we may only need a few more sessions." He sprayed astringent into a paper towel and started wiping down her back.

"Are we done?" She held her breath in anticipation and was ecstatic to hear the tattoo machine being switched off.

"For today. We'll schedule you another session two weeks from now so you can heal." He continued to wipe her down. The coolness of the rag felt delightful against the burning sensation on her back. "We got a lot of outline done. In the next session, we'll do some more outline. Two weeks later we will color it in. Then we will do outline, then color it in, and so on." He fastened her bra for her, which had her flinching. A shiver ran up her spine. "I stayed away from your bra strap area today, since you weren't really prepared," he said.

"Thank you," she said, barely above a whisper. Exhaustion replaced her adrenalin pretty quickly. She heard the snap of his camera.

"This is what we have so far," he said, showing her the picture.

She sat up and took the phone from his hand. There was a lot of smeared black all over her skin, but she could see the beginning of her floral masterpiece. "Oh, this is going to look so great. Wow, you did so much!" She turned to look at him in surprise.

He nodded. "Well, it's easy when I have a client who sits as still as stone."

She looked at the phone again, in awe that she was staring at her own back. "I'm in shock. I don't know what to say."

Sawyer handed Rebecca her shirt. She instantly blushed when she realized she was sitting there in nothing but her bra. "Get dressed and get up slowly. You may feel a little lightheaded. Take it really slow," he warned.

She did as he directed and noticed that she did feel a tad weak. She remained in place for a few moments until she felt composed enough to walk.

"Let's go up front and get you scheduled out. From now on, dress the part, and also bring a granola bar or something. Eat a big meal beforehand, as well. Water too. We are going to shoot for six hour sessions. Your sugar level will drop and you will need to stay hydrated."

He led the way down the hallway and escorted her to the front desk. Rebecca's ears were ringing slightly, but she knew she would be fine.

Sawyer held out his hand. "It was very nice to meet you, Rebecca." He shook her hand. "I look forward to the next one. Tell Caine I said hi." He then turned and walked away.

And, just like that, Rebecca's journey had begun.

The chimes rang in her ears as sweat dripped in her eyes. "How freakin' hot is it in here?" Rebecca asked Coley, as they sat in some sort of spiritual hotbox of a room.

"Shhh, you are supposed to be focusing on the toxins leaving your body," Coley chided.

"I agree with Rebecca. It's hotter than hell in here," Neely said.

They were all three drenched from head to toe, as if a bucket of water had been poured on them—which wasn't the case. Mascara smears marked all their eyes, and their nude bodies slumped limply on the slated wood benches.

Somehow, Coley always had a way of convincing the girls to do these crazy holistic, spiritual, and really far out there things. Today's choice had been to go sit in what appeared to be a sauna… the difference being the loud chimes that banged against the inner walls, and the piped in chanting of monks.

"It's supposed to be hot, or it won't work," Coley explained. "You guys are just feeling the negativity leaving your body."

"No, I'm feeling the sweat between my ass cheeks," Neely said. "And why do we have to be naked? I feel weird sitting here without even a towel."

"Towels are man-made. We are supposed to remove as much of the outside world as possible." Coley closed her eyes and began to hum, or moan, or whatever it was supposed to be. Rebecca couldn't help but laugh, and Neely joined in. Coley stopped and rolled her eyes. "Just think of something else. I can't believe that Kendall is in rehab. I mean, she needed it, but I'm still surprised."

"I didn't think she would do it. She was pretty adamant that she had no plans on changing," Neely said as she tried to fan her face with her hand.

"Well, until she met Matt," Coley offered. "Matt has a way with that gal. How long is she going to be there?"

"A month or two is what she told me," Rebecca answered. "I'm happy for her. It will be interesting to see how she is when she gets back."

"So tell us about getting your tattoo," Neely said, looking as though she was two steps away from melting like the wicked witch of the west.

"Yes, about getting my tattoo," Rebecca retorted as she glared at Neely. "Why in the hell did you send me to one of your spanko friends?"

Neely shrugged. "He's the best."

"So you knew!" Rebecca was going to stand up to punctuate her distress, but she was naked. Standing naked before her friend wouldn't exactly make her look powerful or anything. She would just be the crazy friend who stood naked. Sweaty and naked.

Neely shrugged again and tried to act like it was no big deal, but the smile on her face gave away her amusement at her little secret. "Most of Caine's friends are into it. I can't help that."

"You could have told me."

Neely just laughed.

"I should call Caine and tell him to spank your ass!" Rebecca crossed her arms, about to pretend to pout, but it was too hot. "Jesus, Coley, can we get out of here? I'm dying."

Coley shook her head. "No, just allow all the negative energy to leave your body. See? You already are letting it all out on Neely. Be free with your feelings and emotions."

"Well, from what I can see, the man knows what he's doing. Your tattoo looks great so far," Neely complimented.

Rebecca smiled. "He's good. I've had two sessions with him already and he's getting really far."

"Do you like him?" Coley asked.

Rebecca nodded as she tried to wrap her hair into a bun. "Yeah, he's really nice and easy to talk to. I felt out of place at first, but he put me at ease after a while. My next session is in a couple of days. I start getting some color at that point."

"What's he like? I haven't met him before," Neely said, as she, too, tried to keep her hair off her neck.

"He's not exactly what I was expecting. He's covered in tattoos and has the edgy look, but there's something different about him. He seems softer than I anticipated. Almost like the image of the typical tattoo artist isn't really what he is all about. He's really good at what he does and takes pride in it. But I get the feeling that there is more to him than just what he puts out there."

Neely and Coley exchanged knowing looks.

"What? What was that look?"

"Nothing," Neely answered.

"It just appears that Mr. Tattoo has piqued your interest," Coley added.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and huffed. "Please. We are as platonic as you can get. The thought is comical."

The girls exchanged another look, but Rebecca chose to ignore them.

The heat grew in intensity—if that was even possible. The chimes seemed to get louder, and the chanting of the monks began to feel like fingernails down a chalkboard. She loved her little hippie friend, Coley, but sweat was pooling in every crevice of her body—this wasn't fun.

"I've got to get out of here. Can we go get a glass of wine like normal friends?"

Neely stood and nodded. "I agree."

Coley dramatically threw her arms in the air. "Fine, but don't blame me if you still have toxins eating your insides."

"I'll take my chances," Rebecca replied, as the three girls exited the box of Hades.

* * * * *

Rebecca was regretting what she had chosen to wear for today's tattoo session. She'd wanted to be comfortable, because this was going to be a long one, but she now found herself desperately wanting to change out of her yoga pants and do something more elaborate with her hair than a simple ponytail before Sawyer walked into the lobby. Being in this environment—his environment—made her feel like a Plain Jane. She should have made more effort.

As Sawyer entered the lobby, with his tall frame, broad shoulders and a lean muscular build, Rebecca realized he was the perfect size. He was a handsome man; eccentric, mysterious…
Wait, what?
Rebecca tried to shake the new thoughts rushing into her brain. Damn Neely and Coley for planting a seed to suggest that she may indeed be finding interest in Sawyer. He wasn't really Rebecca's type. She usually preferred normal, clean-cut, GQ-like guys; businessmen who wore suits to work. Sawyer was not anything she would even consider. Yes, this was all because of her girlfriends and their ability to get in her head, nothing more.

"You ready for today?" Without waiting for an answer, Sawyer's gaze shifted from Rebecca to the employee behind the counter. "This is going to be a long session. You can lock up and call it a day. I won't be needing you anymore."

Rebecca felt prickles rise up on the back of her neck. She was more nervous now to continue on with the tattoo than on the first day. She remembered the pain, and wasn't exactly excited to feel it again.

"You look ready to go." Sawyer's gaze slid to her athletic attire. "It seems you are more prepared today." She still hadn't been dressed the part when she'd arrived at the second session two weeks ago, which had earned her a little lecture. So she'd made sure to do as she was instructed for this one.

Rebecca nodded her head. "Trying to be more comfortable. Not exactly the most flattering look."

"I like it." His admiring gaze lingered on her legs.

"Thank you."

He smiled and waited expectantly. It only took Rebecca an instant to realize he was waiting for her to stand up and lead the way.

She started to rise when his hand reached out for her. He pulled her up so she was standing right in front of him. Her heart picked up speed. The delicious fragrance of his male scent enveloped her and Rebecca drank it in, drowning in unfamiliar sensations. What the hell was going on with her? Was this just nerves? She needed to get herself together.

She took a big step away from him and forced a bright smile. She headed toward the back room, her heart racing, her brain pure mush.

"I'm ready," she said. "A little nervous, but ready."

"Are you all healed up?" he asked, following her into the back room.

"I am, it wasn't too bad. A little bit of scabbing, but not as much as the first session."

"Yeah, but once we do the color, it will scab up pretty good. It's important to keep the tattoo moist and not let it dry out."

She reached the back room and just stood there. "Should I take my shirt off and sit like last time?" She shifted from one foot to the other, anxious to not have to look at him anymore. He seemed different today. More familiar, in a way. He was wearing a simple black shirt, jeans and sneakers. His dark hair curled upwards at the ends and wrapped around his face. His casual appearance had such a draw. She suddenly wanted to examine and study all of his tattoos and see what they were. At a glance, all she saw was a swirl of color and design.

"Make yourself comfortable."

He sat down in his chair, got his tattoo machine ready and started pouring the colored ink in little containers. Rebecca removed her shirt but kept her bra on, as she had before. She positioned herself on the chair, taking a deep breath to calm her raging nerves.

"Did you tell Caine I said hi? Last time you were here, you said Neely and Caine were out of town," he said as he turned on his machine, dipped the tip into the ink, and moved into position to begin.

"I told his wife. I haven't seen Caine. I told Neely that I was going to tell Caine to spank her for sending me to a spanko for a tattoo."
Oh god, why did I say that?
She glanced over her shoulder to see if she'd insulted him.

He chuckled. "Oh, really?" He put his fingertips to her cheek and pushed her head forward. "That's not a very nice thing to do to your friend."

She released a nervous giggle. "Well, it's not like he really would or anything."

"Oh yes, he would. He has to. It's the DD law. Don't you know the Domestic Discipline list of conduct rules? If someone requests that a spanking be given, then rule number twenty-one clearly states that a spanking must be delivered with a paddle, panties down, bent over the bed. It's the rule." He continued giving the tattoo as if he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary. "In fact, if I remember correctly, the dictate clearly says that sixty swats must be given. You really are going to make Neely pay for this one."

"What? You are kidding, right?"

"I'm sure it will pain Caine to do it. But the Domestic Discipline doctrine cannot be broken."

Rebecca turned her head to look at Sawyer in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? There isn't some doctrine somewhere?" Was this for real? She couldn't read his face.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I feel sorry for Neely." He stopped tattooing and winked at her. "Or more sorry for her ass. And then, after Caine whips Neely, he has to sacrifice a goat." He gave a wicked smile and chuckled. Once again, he placed his fingertips against her face and positioned it forward.

"Ha ha, very funny," she replied. "Actually, it wouldn't surprise me if there was some doctrine. Who knows with this whole DD thing."

"No, there is no doctrine. If anything, there may be list of rules the couple comes up with. You really don't know anything about DD, do you?"

"No, why would I?"

"Because you judge it. I've always believed that if you are going to be so strongly against a belief or a lifestyle, then you should be fully educated about it first. But that's just me."

"I don't judge it," she snapped, feeling defensive.

"You do," he countered.

"Well…" She paused, realizing he might be right. "Maybe I
have
judged… a little."

They sat in silence for a while, as if neither knew what to say next, or whether they should even continue this conversation. The only sound was the buzz of the tattoo machine. Rebecca noticed that there wasn't any music playing today, and she sort of missed it. Sawyer began to run the gun over her ribs once more, over and over and over again. She hissed in pain.

"Sorry," he said. "This spot's a real bitch."

"You're telling me," she said through clenched teeth. "All my organs are vibrating."

Rebecca needed to get her mind off of her pain. They weren't even an hour in, and she wasn't going to make it at this rate.

"So educate me," she blurted. "Educate me on why my friends have chosen to live in a DD relationship." She didn't like being called out the way Sawyer just had, but he had a point. She was judging, and she didn't know much about the lifestyle.

"I'm not the one to do that. I don't know what makes your friends do what they do."

"Fine. Then tell me why you believe in it. Give me your viewpoint."

"It's simple really," he began. "I grew up in a household with a lot of screaming, slamming doors, fists in the walls, cussing, anger, you name it. Dysfunction with a capital 'D'. My brother and I got into our fair share of trouble… my brother more than me. My mom, as much as I loved her, drank a lot, and usually passed out on the couch with a cigarette still in her mouth. My dad was just an asshole, and we will leave it at that." He dabbed the gun in the ink and paused for a moment before continuing. "Anyway, relationships were not something I ever wanted. Hell no was I going to live a life like my parents."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Rebecca offered, right before she hissed in pain. Color hurt!