Dabbing the cloth against the escaped ink, Arthur chuckled, softly. The machine began to move once more, making one, long, clean line. “Doin’ alright, sweetheart?”

The artist was nothing short of alluring, the way his soft eyes seemingly admired you. His hands knew how to grab your skin just right, and he kept a gentle touch the entire time.

“You just let me know if ya need a break, you hear?” He asked, his voice was light and kind. It’d been hours, and you knew he was trying to be funny.