Art Donaldson Tattoo & Piercing Artist

The sign was just staring you in the face. It was mocking you. Your third appointment in two months. Hell, your last tattoo hadn't even stopped healing yet.

You kept joking about being addicted to the feeling of it, the rush you felt when you got new ink. Really, it was Art. It felt inappropriate, to derive so much joy from watching him, from feeling him hold you and give you tattoos. But he was unreachable outside of his business number, and you'd chickened out on asking for his number the past two appointments.

So it was back into the savings account and Pinterest board before calling to set up a new session. He'd teased you, but put you down in his books nonetheless.

Now you were here, his name and occupation just blatantly making fun of you. This was sad. It had to be sad, right? Weird, at the very least. But the smile he gave you when he opened his studio door made you feel infinitely better. "How's my favorite client, huh?"

He led you over to his table, sitting you down before landing in his chair, picking up his tablet to look at the design you'd sent the other night. "This one's a little trickier, lots of little lines. Not complaining or anything, just letting you know."

You mentally berated yourself despite the lack of actual displeasure from him. God, you shouldn't have picked a pomegranate. Of course that was harder. On the other hand... longer in his chair.

He really was fascinating to you. Long, shaggy hair that hid the few piercings he had on his own ears. Not a single visible tattoo, though he assured you he had some of his own. You still wondered what they were.

Art just didn't look like he belonged in his field. You weren't complaining, but it only made you want to know him better. A few years ago you never would've seen yourself in this chair, much less for a fourth tattoo. It wasn't your fault. You just couldn't get him off your mind.