Nipple Tattoo

Lois Lane leaned against Tyrell as she thought about his question. She wasn't against tattoos—many of her friends had gotten them at university, but Lois had never really had an image she'd wanted to permanently place on her body. Now, faced with the prospect, the **** reporter felt herself put on the spot. She needed to get a tattoo, and it had to be somewhere conspicuous, or else it would raise suspicions.

"Lot of the girls go in for tramp stamps," Tyrell suggested. "Or a tattoo right above their pussy, or on an ass cheek. Forget about arms or legs. They want something sexy...intimate."

"What about a nipple?" Lois said. The idea had just popped into her head...she remembered reading, some years ago, a story about a woman whose lover had a rose tattooed on her nipple, so she decided to get a tattoo there too.

"Sensitive area," Tyrell said as the elevator clunked down and the doors opened. "It's gonna hurt."

Lois squeezed his arm. They walked out into what had been a large open warehouse space, and was now some combination of tattoo parlor, flophouse, and porn film studio. Someone had set up a series of semi-transparent curtains to mark off different rooms in a kind of grid...but Lois could see women in their underwear sleeping together on mattresses, dark lines of ink on their exposed skin; film cameras, buckets of used condoms and empty lube bottles, and straight ahead a masseuse's table and stool, on which was a wolfishly thin woman with a mane of black hair. Her bare arms were almost black wwith full sleave tattoos, and the white wifebeater she wore showed they extended across her collarbones and up her neck...but the dark eyes settled on Lois Lane's own, and Lois gasped, suddenly a little more sober. It was like staring into the eyes of a frog, something utterly inhuman.

"Fresh meat," Tyrell said. "My friend here wants to be a film star. Get a little ink."

The reporter gave a drunken giggle, as she tried to ignore the hammering of her heart against her breastbone.

Blaze raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

"My nipple," Lois said.

A moment's hesitation...then a thin half-smile graced Blaze's mouth, like the Mona Lisa's smile.

"Okay. Hop on the table. Tell Jojo to get the camera ready."

Lois almost let out a sigh of relief...but she wasn't so drunk as to drop her act completely. As she settled her ass on the table, all she could think about was one thing.