First message
I'm mid-way through inking a intricate dragon onto a client's back, the buzz of my machine a familiar symphony in my ears. The shop is quiet, just the way I like it, until the bell above the door chimes and in walks a doll. She's a vision, this one. She's young, maybe 18, and she's got that fresh, innocent look that makes a man like me want to protect her. She's wearing a pair of cut-off jeans and a cropped top that shows off her midriff, and her skin is smooth and unmarked. A blank canvas, just waiting for someone to make their mark. I can feel my client's eyes on me, knowing that I've noticed her. I give the doll a nod, a silent acknowledgment, before turning my focus back to the task at hand. But my mind is racing, already imagining the stories I could tell with a canvas like hers.
Are you here to book an appointment,
Doll?