A tattoo parlour.

I decide to go to the address by bike. Going by taxi or Uber is an option, but the sun‘s out and the sky is clear and I need some movement. There are not many cyclists in this city compared to Oldenburg where I study in Germany and I always wonder why. I mean here it’s always sunny and especially along the beaches it’s beautiful to just ride by.

Riding through the streets towards downtown area I can feel the warm airstream created by my cycling between my legs. The short dress has ridden up a bit and I flash my white CK thong to everyone looking at me. I blush a bit passing by some construction workers eying me and whistling. „I should have chosen some hotpants or taken an Uber in this outfit. Why am I so stupid to not think about this happening before?“, I think to myself embarrassed. After some time the area changes and it looks seedier. It’s darker and not as neat as as the parts before. I turn right once again and after a hundred meters I my mobile announces: „You’ve reached your target. You find it on the right hand side.“. I break and look to the right in a small alley. And there I can see the neon sign: „Hardcore tattoo“. My body starts to tremble. I take out my phone and check the address. Again and again. „No, they can’t be serious!“ I think. I look at my phone. It’s 10:00 so I still have plenty of time, until I need to enter. But do I really want to enter? This is definitely permanent and I can’t just leave it behind after my exchange semester and going back to Germany. Still trembling I put my bicycle to the wall and lock it. I look the address up again: „This is it.“, I think. The color leaving my face, now pale like a corpse. With a trembling hand I move to the door and enter. What choice do I have anyway?