Ink and Bubbles

In the dimly lit tattoo parlor, a young woman named Aria sat nervously in the chair, her heart pounding with anticipation. She was getting her first tattoo, a delicate rose design that would grace her inner thigh. The tattoo artist, a ruggedly handsome man named Dante, leaned over her, his dark eyes focused on the spot where the ink would soon meet skin.

Dante’s fingers traced the outline of the rose, sending shivers down Aria’s spine. “You’re sure about this, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

Aria nodded, biting her lower lip. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Dante’s lips curved into a smirk as he began to work. The needle buzzed and bit into Aria’s skin, but she barely noticed the pain. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of Dante, his strong hands, and the way his eyes seemed to strip her bare.

When the tattoo was finally finished, Aria couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. She had hoped that Dante would ask her out, or at least offer to buy her a drink. But he simply wrapped her thigh carefully and handed her a mirror. “Take a look,” he said.

Aria looked at her reflection, admiring the way the rose seemed to dance on her skin. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Dante’s eyes met hers in the mirror. “You’re beautiful.”

Aria’s heart skipped a beat. She could feel the chemistry between them, thick and heavy in the air. Without thinking, she reached out and touched Dante’s arm, feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingertips.

Dante looked at her, his eyes dark and intense. “Do you want to get out of here?” he asked.

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