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  "Why? It's not like Caine is spanking you."

  Her face darkened in hue. "Oh my god, I can't believe we are having this conversation," she muttered.

  Sawyer wiped at the ink and blood and sat back for a moment to study his progress. It was going much quicker than he'd anticipated. "The tattoo is looking good so far. Are you doing all right? You need to tell me when you need a break."

  "I'm fine. Talking is helping to pass the time."

  He dipped his gun in the ink and continued. They both sat in silence for a while, with the only sound being the hum of the machine and the music playing in the background.

  "I don't want you to get the wrong idea," Rebecca said suddenly. "It's not that I think Caine is abusing Neely or anything. I understand it's a consensual thing. I just find it odd. Don't you?"

  Sawyer shrugged his shoulders, even though Rebecca couldn't see him. "Who am I to judge?"

  "It's not judging. It's just an opinion," she said quickly.

  He smiled at the way she was quick to defend herself. She was a fiery one, for sure.

  "I just believe in an equal partnership," she added.

  "As do I."

  "And I believe that a man should always respect a woman."

  "As do I."

  "I also believe that a man is no better than a woman," she went on.

  "As do I."

  "So you agree that the barbaric belief of Domestic Discipline is insane?"

  "No," he stated simply. "I actually believe in and stand behind it one hundred percent."

  She looked over her shoulder in shock, forcing him to stop the tattoo. "What?" she whispered.

  He gently placed his fingers on her cheek, pushing her to turn her face forward once more. When she'd done so, he dipped his gun in the ink and continued. "I actually owe it to Caine," he said. "He introduced me to it many years ago. I believe in Domestic Discipline, and if I choose to ever be in a relationship again, I would definitely want to incorporate it."

  "Really?" she squeaked. "I should have known that Neely would send me to a tattoo artist that spanks."

  Sawyer laughed out loud. Not something he did often. He was actually enjoying this tattoo session so far. "Well, I hope I'm known for more than just that. I may be a barbarian who spanks, but I give a mean tattoo."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you with everything I just said."

  "You didn't. You are entitled to your opinion."

  Her face turned almost crimson. "I wish I could climb in a hole right now. Talk about foot in mouth."

  Sawyer smiled again. There was something about this girl that made him do that often. "Don't worry. As long as you stay still, I won't spank you," he teased.

  Chapter Four

  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.

  Chapter Five

  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 girl
s 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.