Thank you for having me on your blog today, Anya! I hope you’re having as much fun as I’ve been having with all the tattooed hotness happening over at Ellora’s Cave this month.
I’ve made a sort of unofficial observation throughout my years of getting tattooed. (I have five that I’ve gotten over the span of ten years or so.) Women seem to prefer having someone with them when they sit in the chair while men usually go it alone.
I think for us women it’s similar to going to the bathroom in pairs or groups. We don’t need someone to go with us, of course. It’s just more fun with friends. Going to the bathroom together gives us a chance to gossip amongst ourselves, snark about the skinny girl who’s skirt is way too short even though she’s really hot and we’re just jealous, and borrow or share lipstick or a piece of gum if one of us left ours at home.
Having a friend sit with you while you’re getting tattooed is almost a necessary distraction because, let’s face it, getting tattooed hurts like crazy. Even if you have a high threshold for pain like I do, it freakin’ stings, right?
I had a friend for all three of my first tattoos, and she was a godsend. She checked in with me every so often to make sure I was all right. She kept me talking to keep my mind off the needle. She got me something to drink when nerves kicked in and my mouth dried up like the desert. She drove me home afterward when I felt a little shaky.
I’ve gone to several appointments alone as well, and while my artists have all been extremely interesting to talk to, there’s still nothing like having a girlfriend there for moral support as well.
Are you tattooed? Did you have a friend or family member to keep you company? Have you/could you/did you go it alone?
Ink Lust Blurb:
Leni Brewster should have been disappointed when her twin sister had to bail on holding her hand during her first tattoo, but going to her appointment solo means time alone with the sexy-as-hell tattoo artist who falls into the Do Not Touch category two-fold.
Only Jamie Rodriguez isn’t as off-limits as Leni thinks. Privately single for months, Jamie finds himself more than looking forward to having the hot little librarian in his chair. And when she accidentally reveals a naughty secret about herself, he can’t get his hands on her fast enough—he has to know what else she’s hiding under that buttoned-up exterior of hers.
What he discovers sets his blood to boiling, igniting a burning determination to test every single one of the boundaries, both personal and physical, she’s set for herself.
“No sister to hold your hand?” he asked, moving around the tattoo chair standing at an angle in the middle of the compact room. He reached between his legs and centered his rolling stool under himself as he sat.
“Frankie came down with a cold, and Jo didn’t want to leave her,” Leni said, meaning her eight-month-old niece and twin sister, as she turned in a little circle and reacquainted herself with his room.
She liked Jamie’s space, with its dark blue walls and lush spider plants hanging in front of the small, frosted glass windows set high up on the wall. His black lacquered bookcases were filled with all sorts of odd statues, knickknacks, and an amazing array of books that ranged from glossy picture books of all kinds to odd curiosities that were fun to flip through. The walls were covered in framed photographs of him with various celebrities he’d met and/or tattooed mixed with small paintings of his.
“Poor little critter.” He made a sympathetic face as he pulled on a pair of black nitrile gloves. “You sure you want to do this without her?”
It was Leni’s turn to get the matching trio of tiger lilies, one orange, one pink and one red, she and Jo had decided to get both in honor of their mother and their bond as sisters. Their mother had raised them on her own without help from their father, his family or hers from the time they were infants, and the three of them had always been extremely close and fiercely protective of each other as a result.
The orange lily was for their mother. The field behind the house she’d raised her girls in was full of them. Her father—Leni and Jo’s grandfather—used to cut them out of the ditch in front of her childhood home and burn them every year, calling them weeds. It broke their mother’s heart, so when she had a place of her own, she filled her yard with them and let them run wild.
When she had her girls, she planted huge amounts of pink and red lilies to the field—pink for Leni, her quiet, happy girl and red for Jo, her little spitfire.
“It takes forever to get back on your books if I cancel.”
Not that he didn’t already know that. Jamie was one of the best tattoo artists in the area, and in high demand. His books were filled months in advance year round.
“She insisted I come without her,” she added. She put her purse on the small chair in the corner of the room and tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.
“I’d have cleared my schedule for you,” he told her, his gaze steady on hers.
She pressed a hand to her stomach as it dipped dangerously at the look in his eyes.
“Any day, any time.” His eyes never left hers, even as he stepped on a peddle under the chair. A motor hummed to life and the back and leg rests started to lay flat, making it look more like a flat table than a dentist’s chair. “Any way, anyhow,” he added, so serious he left no question about whether he was messing with her or not.
The heat rising in her stomach burst and spread in a molten wave through her.
“Good to know,” she breathed, crossing her arms to hide that her nipples had come quite fully to attention. “Are you ready for me?”
His answering smile was positively wicked.
Ellora’s Cave: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-10125-ink-lust.aspx
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ink-lust-jayne-kingston/1111341695?ean=9781419940798
Jayne Kingston is a fledgling erotic romance author. She loves telling stories about people with a lust for life in pursuit of love hereafter. You can find her all over the internet, starting with her website: www.jaynekingston.com. See you there!