ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MY STEP DADDY

Chapter 9 His Ink, My Skin(POV: Isabelle)

I arrived at Dorian's place or rather my Stepdaddys studio. Eeewwwu! It tastes like crap saying it, because my mind keeps flashing back to that horrible but pleasurable night.

When I got in, I sat in the chair.

The black vinyl was cold and it had cracks in the seat. The room was small and smelled like bleach and old coffee. Dorian walked to a metal tray which was already set for my inking.

Yes! I came along to get my tatoo. How I've yearned to gain one before my 26th birthday.

He put on his black gloves and the plastic snapped against his skin. My stomach felt tight. This man was my mother’s husband and now, my stepdad. We had s*x in a hotel room two weeks ago and now also, I found myself in his shop, trying to get myself inked. Isabelle, hope you are not going crazy already? I thought

"Lean forward," he said.

"Like this, Dad?" I said, looking at him with my cheeks.The word felt like a lie. I knew it for real. It felt like a weight and I noticed he stiffened when I said it too, because we already have something going on. But he did not look at my eyes, but maintained his professional status.

"Lower and put your head on your knees."

I bent over. My skin pulled tight across my back. My stepdad sat on a stool behind me, turned on a bright lamp. The light was hot on my neck and he sprayed a paper towel with blue liquid as he wiped my shoulder.

It was cold and I could feel the sensation of his touch again f**k!

He did it three times, before he then picked up a razor. I heard the scrape as he gently shaved the tiny hairs off my skin, but he noticed something…. I was shaking.

"You are shaking," he said.

"No dad, I am just cold." I responded by gripping his knees.

"I can see your muscles twitch, Isabelle. You are okay Huh?"

“Yes I am,” I said bluntly.

Then he went ahead and pressed a piece of paper onto my back. He held it there and counted to five, then he pulled the paper away.

"Look in the mirror," he said.

He handed me a small mirror and I looked over my shoulder. There was a purple outline on my skin. It was a bird and its wings were sharp. It looked like it was breaking apart. That was the mark he wanted to draw on me.

"It is good," I said.

"It is just a stencil and the needle is real."

My step dad picked up the machine, dipped the tip into a tiny cup of black ink and stepped on a pedal on the floor. The machine started to buzz. It sounded like a fast bee.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes, Dad."

I said it again. I wanted to remind myself and set a clear standard between us with that word I called him. But I knew he was not a father but the man I saw from the hotel.

He touched the needle to my skin. Awwwn… easy daddy! I moaned under him.

The pain was sharp and it felt like a hot tooth scratching me. I gripped the edges of the chair and held my breath as he drew.

"Breathe Isabelle," he said. "If you hold your breath, you will faint."

I took a deep breath and the smell of his cologne hit me. It smelled like SINFUL PLEASURE.

He moved the needle slowly on my skin. I felt every puncture and my skin started to get hot.

"Why are you doing this for free dad?" I asked, looking at him deep in his eyes.

"I did not say it was free." He snapped at me.

"You said you did not want money."

"Money is easy," he said. "I just want you to remember. He said, stopping the machine. He wiped the blood away with a dry cloth which was rough. He dipped the needle again. The buzzing started again and I thought about my mother. For her mind, she is at home, waiting for him to finish work. I had watched them eat dinner last night and had called him Dad at the table.

Then I went to my room and cried.

My skin felt dirty then but it felt more like electricity now seeing his gentle touches on me.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

I sniffed "A little. Ouch!"

"You are lying. I can feel your heart beating in your back.

"Just finish it." I said and he went back to his work.

He worked for an hour and we didn't talk to each other. He just moved the needle and I watched the clock on the wall. His red hand moved slowly and my back felt like it was on fire. The pain moved from my shoulder to my neck.

I hated him for being here and I hated myself for coming. He was supposed to protect me. Instead, he had ruined me. He was marking me so I could never forget what we did.

Every sting of the needle was a secret and every drop of ink was a sin to me.

He stopped the machine for the last time, sprayed my back with water and it felt freezing as he went ahead to wipe it dry.

"Stand up," he said as he started removing his gloves.

I stood up when I noticed he was done. My legs felt weak and I wobbled to the big mirror on the wall. The bird was dark black and the skin around it was red and puffy, more like a fiery image which I loved the most.

"This is cute," I said while ogling the beauty of it in the mirror. Dorian stood behind me and he was very close. I could feel the heat from his chest.

He did not touch me but he just looked at the tattoo in the mirror.

"Now everyone will see it," he said.

"No. I will wear a shirt. Only I will know it is there."

"And me," he said.

He picked up a roll of plastic wrap, cut a piece of it and pressed it over my raw skin. He used tape to stick it down and it pulled firmly at my skin.

"Keep it covered," he said. "Do not let it get dirty."

"I know, Dad."

The word came out like a gasp as he grabbed my arm and pulled me around to face him.

His eyes were very dark and he looked at my mouth in the mirror.

Why was he staring at my lips? This sent shivers in my body as I called him. “Dad, are you okay?”

"Stop calling me that," he whispered.

"But it is what you are. You are married to my mom."

"I know who I married and I know who I had in that bed."

Immediately he said that, I felt sick and alive at the same time. I looked at his shirt. There was a small ink stain on the pocket. I wanted him to hold me right now but I knew there were boundaries not to cross now. But DAMN! who could have such a mesmerising man as a step dad.

"Go home," he said.

"Are you going to tell my mother?"

He leaned in slightly at me as his breath brushed my hair strands, "No. I won't, this will be our little secret. It is under your skin now."

He let go of my arm and he turned around and started cleaning his tools. He threw the needle in a box, sprayed the chair and I picked up my shirt beside him, putting it slowly on me.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked.

"I told you. Nothing."

"But, I don't like owing you Dad."

Dorian turned, looked at me and gently approached me with a gentle smirk on his lips as he pulled me closer to him.

"You already owe me little princess," he said. "You have since that night." He said and let go of me.

I did not say anything. I just picked up my purse and walked to the door with my heart hammering fast.

I pushed it open. The bells on the door jingled and the air outside hit me slowly.

I walked to my car and every step I took, I felt the tattoo.

It stung and seriously was a heavy feeling.

I sat in the driver's seat and looked at myself in the mirror.

I looked the same, but I felt different now. I had his ink in my skin.

My stepdad had marked me. He was a part of me now.

I started the car and drove home. I would have to see him at dinner.

I kept one hand on the steering wheel and used the other hand to touch the bandage through my shirt.

My skin was seriously pulsing and it felt like a second heart to me already.

But Isabelle, I'm sure you will get over him?