Please (11 page)

“
Sure,” Sebastian pushed himself lazily away from the wall.

“
Just drop yer drawers, boy,” Thor said, “You don’t need to get in the chair. This won’t take ten minutes.”

Sebastian did as instructed, stepping wide and letting his jeans fall down around his boots.

The tattoo, which covered Sebastian’s groin from just below his navel, looked from a distance like out-of-control pubic hair. It was a swathe of twisting, curving curls of ink in varying tints of standard blue-black, wrapping around the shaved skin of his pelvis and inner thighs, that on closer inspection was revealed to be hundreds of pairs of tiny, cursive initials.

Elizabeth had commented on it on their first night together as she knelt in front of him.
“I’m guessing that this is your version of a notched bed-post,” she said, marveling at the number of initials, tracing them with her fingernail.

“
It’s not like that,” Sebastian had said, grabbing her wrists and pulling her to her feet. He looked into her eyes, and said, earnestly, “I like to feel that the women I’ve been with have become a part of me. You know, that each encounter, each act – whether it’s a one-night stand or an affair that lasts for years – has changed me, on a molecular level. It’s my way of honoring them.”

Now, watching Thor deposit tiny drops of ink under the surface of the soft skin of Sebastian
’s abdomen, tiny drops that when joined together would form the letters E H, Elizabeth wasn’t so sure how she felt about receiving this honor. She also wasn’t sure how she felt about getting a tattoo of her own.

They had been lying in bed
the day before. The curtains were closed and, in her half-delirious, sleep-deprived state, Elizabeth had for a moment not been sure what time or even what day it was. Sebastian was lying with his head on her chest the way Keenan sometimes did when he was sick and needed comfort. She was stroking the fine spikes of hair at his temples, letting her heart rate slow back down to normal. Sebastian had run his index finger along her C-section scar and said, casually, “You should get some ink.”

That was it. There hadn
’t been any further discussion about it, but when he had called to make the appointment with Thor, he’d told Thor’s receptionist to book a full hour. And then, in the taxi ride over, Sebastian had handed her a drawing done on hotel stationery in blue ballpoint. It was a curving string of vines and leaves, delicately drawn. He had looked at her, his eyes wide and hopeful. So, here she was with her jeans pulled down below her hipbones, reclining on a padded vinyl chair waiting to make Sebastian a permanent part of her.

Elizabeth looked over at him. He had his eyes closed as Thor worked, but other than a slight furrow between his eyebrows, she could see no indication that the procedure was hurting him. Above the low humming of the needle, he and Thor were carrying on a conversation about motorcycles, though, granted,
Thor was doing most of the talking.

Words like
“pipes” and “fork springs” drifted through Elizabeth’s consciousness as her eyes scanned the small, white room. Other than the chair, Thor’s rolling stool, and a waist-high stainless-steel trolley that held Thor’s array of torture implements and a few medical supplies, there wasn’t much in the way of furniture or décor. There was a sink, an autoclave, a full-length mirror and a set of speakers set high on the wall, out of which jangled the chords of a blues guitar, but that was it. The Spartan studio was in stark contrast to the sensory overload of the lobby where they were greeted by a receptionist, her globular breasts rising above the deep v of her leather bustier. They had been ushered right into Thor’s studio, but Elizabeth’s impression was of black walls plastered with posters of heavily inked naked torsos of both sexes, a red velvet sofa and a glowing chandelier made entirely of minibar empties.

“
There,” Thor said, leaning back on his stool and admiring his work. Sebastian turned to look in the mirror, a sly smile lighting his eyes. He pulled up his jeans, but didn’t zip them, and moved closer to where Elizabeth lay on the chair.

“
Um, nice,” Elizabeth said, examining the tiny patch of skin, no bigger than the nail on Gwen’s little finger. The area around the initials was puffy and pink and the letters themselves looked shiny and slightly wet. E H, she read, resisting the urge to touch. The curl of the second leg of the H was wrapped around the initial next to it. Elizabeth idly wondered who T K was.

Sebastian smiled at her.
“Thor never lets me down.” He ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. “Are you ready?” he asked.

Elizabeth nodded.

“Right,” Thor said, rolling over on his stool. “Why don’t you put some gauze on that while I get started on this young lady?” He peered at her over the top of his glasses. “Unless you want Holly to do it for you?” He winked at Elizabeth. She guessed Holly was the name of the receptionist.

Sebastian laughed.
“Nah, not this time,” he said. Elizabeth glanced at Sebastian’s tattoo before he turned away and wondered if Holly’s initials were part of it.

Thor spoke while he inserted a new needle, throwing the old one in a bin marked
“bio-hazard.” “You like to read, Elizabeth?” he asked.

Elizabeth nodded, eyes on the needle, which was, on closer inspection, several needles soldered together. It looked too big and too sharp to be anywhere near her skin.

“She’s a writer,” Sebastian said from where he was leaning against the wall again, legs and arms crossed, jeans zipped.

“
That so?” Thor said, pressing a carbon tracing of the design Sebastian had drawn onto the skin of Elizabeth’s scar. He held the skin taught with one hand and turned the needle on. “You write anything I might have read?”

“
Not unless you like chick lit,” she said.

Thor laughed
and touched the needle to her skin, his eyes on his work. “Can’t say that I’ve given it a chance,” he said. Elizabeth felt a hot sharp pain, like the surface of her skin was being sandpapered by the tip of a pencil. “I’m more of a Clive Cussler man, myself,” Thor continued. “You read any of his stuff?”

“
Not yet,” Elizabeth answered, looking over at Sebastian. He hadn’t moved, but he was staring at her intently, a small smile on his lips. She inhaled sharply as Thor moved off the scar tissue to the skin surrounding it.

Elizabeth tried to focus on Thor describing the plot of his favorite
Cussler epic, closing her eyes against the pain. Occasionally, she would glance over at Sebastian, who continued to watch her.

“
There,” Thor finally said, after what felt like an interminable amount of time but was in reality not much more than half an hour. “Have a look.”

Elizabeth stood up gingerly, wincing.

“Perfect,” Sebastian said, standing behind her as she stared at her reflection. The fine lines danced in a delicate horizontal diamond across her pelvis, like a ribbon of black lace a hand’s width under her navel. A thought flashed, unwelcome, through her mind. What would Steve think?

“
Thor,” the receptionist’s high, nasal voice came from the other side of the studio door. “Those guys are here to see you again. About the Superlow.”

Thor had antiseptic, surgical tape and a roll of plastic cling
-film in his hands. “I’ll be right out, Holly,” he said. He looked at Elizabeth. “Is it alright if I have Holly do this?” He lifted his hands with the medical supplies in them.

“
I’ll do it,” Sebastian said, taking the supplies from the older man.

“
Great,” Thor said, removing his wire-rims and standing up. “Good to meet you, Elizabeth. Always a pleasure, Sebastian. See you next time you’re in town.”

“
I doubt it,” Sebastian said. He was standing behind Elizabeth, his hands on her still naked hips.

Thor paused with his hand on the doorknob.
“That so?” he said, giving Elizabeth a long, measuring look, taking in her wedding ring. “Well, stranger things have happened, I suppose.” He winked, closing the door behind him.

“
Come on,” Sebastian whispered into her hair after Thor had left. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

He
led her down the short hall to a bathroom not much bigger than the toilets on an airplane. A pedestal sink and ancient toilet were squeezed into a tiny space that, unlike Thor’s studio, was in sore need of a coat of paint and serious encounter with Mr. Clean.

No sooner had Sebastian flicked on the light and locked the door
than he knelt down in front of her and, grabbing her hips, ran his tongue over her fresh tattoo. Elizabeth gasped in unexpected, searing pain.

Sebastian immediately moved lower, yanking her jeans and panties down below her knees. Standing up, he thrust his first two fingers into her, reaching deep inside her as he rubbed her clit with his thumb. Elizabeth moaned, intense pleasure overcoming pain. Just as she was about to
come, Sebastian lifted her onto the sink, spreading her thighs with his hips. He peeled her sweater up and over her head, not bothering to roll it down her shoulders, effectively binding her arms behind her. He flicked his tongue over the flesh rising above the cups of her bra, biting her nipples through the thin fabric. His movements were fast and urgent, almost violent, as he unzipped his jeans, tore open a condom wrapper, rolled it on, and thrust into her.

He plunged in and out of her, kissing and nipping her neck, suddenly and without warning rubbing his thumb across her raw tattoo, his other hand clamping over her mouth to muffle her gasps. It was over almost as suddenly as it began. Sebastian dug his fingers into her hips, moaning and collapsing onto her, pushing her into the sink.

Elizabeth felt the cold hardness of the porcelain under her, the heavy heat of Sebastian on top of her, the burning ache of her tattoo, and wondered what the hell had just happened.

With a low groan, Sebastian pulled out of her and, holding her jaw delicately, kissed her softly on the lips, leaning back to look at her with an expression that Elizabeth could only describe as loving. Staring into her eyes, he reached down between her legs and coaxed her to a shuddering orgasm.

Neither of them said anything as he smoothed antiseptic on her tattoo and wrapped it with the cling-film. While he cleaned himself, Elizabeth leaned against the door, her tattoo and her clitoris throbbing in time with the slowing beat of her pulse, and tried to make sense of what had just happened, of what she was feeling, but she couldn’t. So she just took the hand Sebastian offered and stepped out into the crisp golden-tinged afternoon, waving goodbye to the buxom Holly as they passed her.

Sebastian wrapped his arm around her shoulder while they walked. He rested his head on top of hers, breathing in deeply.
“God, I love you,” he said.

*

By the time they got back to the Mercer, Elizabeth felt almost normal again. She credited this to Sebastian’s extraordinarily buoyant spirits. He was like Buddy when they’d take him off his leash at the dog park, practically bouncing with happiness. It was impossible not to be infected.

They were teasing each other and laughing, their arms around
each other’s waists as they walked into the lobby.

“
I think the dedication you wrote in my copy of
Habibi Baby
needs to be reworked, don’t you?” Sebastian said.

“
What, are you my editor now?” Elizabeth teased.

“
Sebastian!” Naomi Clamp’s squeal carried across the muted hush of the lobby. She came striding toward them, her slim ballerina legs swinging from the hip. In her tight, artfully faded jeans, fawn colored boots, and a scarf that looked like it had been hand-knitted by tiny Tibetan grannies with a weakness for jewel tones, Naomi looked hippie-chic gorgeous. Elizabeth instantly felt old and dowdy.

Naomi hurled herself into Sebastian
’s arms and reached up on tiptoe to give him a loud kiss on the cheek. “Oh my God!” she said, still in his arms. “You’re still here! I thought you left, like, forever ago. What are you still doing here and not telling me, you naughty boy?”

Elizabeth noted that Sebastian didn
’t seem to mind that the blond nymphet was clinging to him like a corn-husk to the cob. Feeling awkward in the extreme, she shoved her hands into her coat pockets and sidled away from them.

“
Well, you know me,” Sebastian said, squeezing Naomi closer, his eyes deliberately seeking Elizabeth’s over the actress’s head. “I am naughty.”

“
Yeah, you are,” Naomi said, looking up at him. Following the direction of his stare she began, “So what are you ...” Her eyes registered Elizabeth standing not a foot away from them. “Liz! Are you ...?” She looked back at Sebastian, who wore a sly grin, his gaze laser-focused on Elizabeth.

“
Oh.” Naomi took a step back, understanding blossoming on her exquisite features. “You two are ...” She giggled and rolled her eyes. “Duh! Naomi!”

Her bright blue eyes danced between Sebastian and Elizabeth for a moment. She put a delicate French manicured hand on each of their arms and, looking up at Sebastian,
said, “Well, if you’re looking for a third, you know where to find me.”