More Than Life Itself

Tattoos: Part 1

Dagger P.O.V.

"Eislyn, you ready to go?"

"Not exactly."

"Are you nervous?"

When I don't get an answer from my wife (I love hearing that), I walk back into the bathroom where she's supposedly getting ready. Eislyn is bent over, her hands on the floor as she searches for something. I run my finger over her red lace underwear, wanting more than to just watch her. 

"I'm going to get pregnant sooner than later, my love."

"Good. I want you pregnant."

"And I want to wait a year. Just live in the daydream for a bit, and then have me waddling around like a penguin."

"You're the one that's going to be pregnant, so whatever you want, little one. However, I do think that we need to get ready to go. We don't want to be late to the appointment."

"I'm about to get my first tattoo. I'm nervous."

"That's alright, little one. I'll be there the whole time. We might not be beside each other, but it'll be great."

"How can you say that?"

"Eislyn...you know I have like twenty tattoos. I might not be a tattoo artist, but I'm pretty sure I know a little bit more than you."

"Shut it."

Eislyn pulls on sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. Once her white, high top Converse on her feet, I speed up the process of getting her out of house by throwing her over my shoulder. I smack her ass and move back downstairs. Eislyn giggles as I reach for my keys and phone. 

"You are crazy."

"Crazy for you. Too cheesy?"

"No, it was perfect. Now, can you put me down?"

"Nope. I like you over my shoulder."

"You like my legs over your shoulders too."

My chest rumbles as I laugh. I place Eislyn carefully on the back of the motorcycle. After our honeymoon to Barcelona, Spain, Eislyn and I finally bought her a motorcycle. She likes to ride it, but she says she likes to be on the back of mine, so she can feel up my abs. I think that's a very specific reason to not want to ride a motorcycle by yourself, but I don't mind. 

How could I ever mind with the wife I have?

The ride into the city is smooth. We grab a quick breakfast, and I have to stop by my office for a quick signing of papers. When Eislyn saw the other ladies checking me out, she practically flashed her engagement and wedding rings in everyone's faces. How they didn't take my ring seriously, I don't know, but with a glare from Eislyn, no one would even talk to me. 

After the jealousy streak of Eislyn, we head to the tattoo shop where we would complete the official claim together. We want ours to be matching designs (just different names because it would be weird if one of us had our own names tattooed on us), but we had already brought in a few ideas for inspiration beforehand.

The designs were drawn while we were off on our honeymoon, and now the tattoo artists that collaborated are ready to finally tattoo the names. I try to calm Eislyn's nerves but nothing sees to be working. The tattoo artist, named Jacelyn, comes up to the two of us. 

"How are you guys doing?"

"We're good, but my girl over here is a little nervous."

"How about you do your tattoo first? Maybe that will help. She's welcome to come back into the room."

"Are you sure?"

"Totally. Just don't touch anything, and you both are welcome to talk as much as you want. I'm not picky."

Forty minutes later, my tattoo is almost done getting worked on. Because Eislyn in nervous, Jacelyn tells her what she's doing (being an awesome person) and shows her different techniques and stuff. When I hear about all the details, I keep my ameture mouth shut when it comes to the tattoo. I trust that Jacelyn, because she's been doing it for awhile, will do the most perfect job if I don't say a word. 

"Alright, Mr. You are done."

"Thank you so much. I really appreciate all of this."

I point to my wife who's still a little shaky, but better than she was this morning. I hand Jacelyn a fifty dollar bill as a tip, and she tells me the directions for taking care of my wrist. I stand up out of the chair and switch positions with Eislyn. I take her hand in mine, and Eislyn squeezes.