The Tattoo

An artist in the search for his masterpiece

I like to walk around the university cafeteria, coffees are cheap and I always find someone to inspire me with a new job. The people who go there, are attracted by the discussions, the cheap menus, the young and beautiful women. I leaned across the bar and ordered a cappuccino. There weren’t many people at this time, and the enormity of the room along with the cheap, light-colored furniture made it seem even more empty. I turned around and took a look at the parish. To the right, in the background, was a small group of young men muttering conspiratorially with beers in hand. In the center, four would-be veterinarians, the same old men, were playing a game of Mus and insulting each other furiously at regular intervals. To the left, and as far away from the noisy gamblers as possible, three cocks in kilometer-high heels and jacket suits were reviewing notes while drinking coffee and giving the vets murderous glances. However, only one girl caught my attention. Sitting at a table in front of some notes to which I did not pay any attention, she looked through me into space as if it were transparent. And that is not usually frequent, with my meter eighty-five, my long and bleached hair and my steel-colored eyes, I could create attraction or rejection but rarely indifference. I moved restlessly and that took her out of her reveries. She looked at me carefully and I took the opportunity to give her a splendid smile. For a moment I thought we had connected. She smiled, but immediately remembered something and her face took on such a melancholy tinge that it moved me and attracted my full attention. She was a beautiful young woman, or so it seemed to me, her perfectly oval face framed by large, dark eyes, a small straight nose, and thick red lips despite the absence of makeup. Her eyelashes were long black and gently curled, the same as her hair, the same as the raven’s wing. Knowing that she was the object of my scrutiny, she lowered her eyes in amazement, and passing her hair behind her precious ears, she finally concentrated on her notes. A few seconds later that expression that mixed smile and grief, had convinced me that I had my muse. I got up from the stool and walked over to her table with a new coffee in hand. -Hi, are you free? It’s all so full… –I said with a smile looking at the half-empty room. She looked up a little disconcerted. It was evident that it was not often that anyone dared to penetrate that invisible wall that she had built around her. -Thanks you are a sun. I continued, ignoring his desperate gaze. I took a sip of coffee and stared at her, she stared at her notes. A lock of her hair escaped and fell over her face. Without thinking about it too much, I brushed it away naturally with my hands dirty with oil and turpentine. She jerked her head away, meeting my eyes at last. -I thought I would stick the thread for a while before proposing anything to you, but since I see that you are a woman of few words, I’ll get to the point, I need something from you. I said with a smile trying to disarm her. -By the look of my hands and my clothes you will have already concluded that I am a painter, and it turns out that your face is inspiring to me and I wonder if you would like to pose for me. I found the surprised face she made charmingly. Before she could refuse or even reply I continued: -I know it is not a very common request, so what do you think if you come with me to my studio, I show you my work and then you decide. It is not very far and you can ask anyone if you do not trust what I tell you, all the waitresses know me. -I do not doubt it. “Good thing, I thought you were deaf,” I replied with another smile, “I hate wasting saliva.” -Come on, what are you saying? I’m not going to force you to do anything, and even if you don’t pose in the end, at least you’ll have a good time admiring the best works that have been painted since the Mona Lisa. -At least you don’t lack self-esteem. She replied slightly amused. -So much that I never remember that I am not yet world-famous. – I said laughing – my name is Jaime although everyone calls me Jam. -I’m Carolina and nobody calls me Carol. -Charmed Carol, now that we know each other we are going to museums. I said picking up her notes and helping her up. We left the cafeteria. I was slightly ahead. I had Carolina by the wrist and was pulling her gently. She allowed herself to be half hypnotized by the confidence I had in myself. I didn’t stop talking and asking her questions, which she only sometimes answered in monosyllables. Fortunately, the studio was close enough not to weight me down. My workshop was the attic of a five-story building from the 1970s gnawed at by aluminous. It was low, hot in summer and cold in winter, and had damp patches all over the walls, but it was cheap, very bright, and roomy enough to hold all my junk. I opened the metal door and made way for her. Carolina entered and took a look around the room. “It doesn’t look like Picasso’s workshop exactly,” she said sarcastically, approaching the pile of canvases that she had stacked on the only wall that did not ooze moisture. She goes over them one by one, slowly, stopping to inspect the ones she liked, asking questions, and making comments. I responded to the best of my knowledge, increasingly attracted by her mysterious attitude. -Well, what do you think I am worthy of immortalizing you for posterity? -The truth is that you have surprised me, some are great, always bearing in mind that I don’t understand almost any art. “Great, get here,” I said, immediately sitting her on a stool before she could refuse. At first, she was calm and smiled slightly, I just pretended to sketch a sketch while waiting. The shadow of melancholy that had clouded her gaze returned and I was finally able to catch it on the pad. During the next few minutes, I devoted myself to filling in the sheets of the pad with charcoal without saying anything so as not to alter that fragile state of mind. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, I put the block on the floor and kissed her. For a moment her lips were still and cold but then they closed on mine and they kissed me back. Shyness gave way to greed. Our mouths only parted for gasps. With a casual movement, I brought my hands to her chest and caressed her right breast through her blouse. The effect was immediate and she jerked away: “I’m sorry but I can’t,” she said as tears began to run down her face. -Have I done something wrong? I asked confused. “No, really, it’s not about you, ” she said, crossing his arms over her chest in a protective attitude. Without letting her finish explaining, I approached her again and hugged her tightly. Carolina did not resist, but she did not stop crying either. I kissed her again, this time on the cheeks, savoring the salt of his tears as she moaned softly and tried to resist without any force. I put a hand under his chin and lifted his face, forcing her to look me in the eyes and kiss her on the mouth again. The taste of his mouth flooded my mixing with the salt of his tears. This time I directed my hands to her mane. She noticed it was a forced gesture and pulled away from me once more. But instead of running away, as expected, she took a deep breath and began unbuttoning her blouse. I will never forget the next few minutes. Trembling like a leaf, she unbuttoned her blouse and took it off, showing me a simple white bra. With a furious movement, she pulled the clasp and the bra fell to his feet. On the left side, where her chest should be, was a silicone prosthesis with a couple of ugly scars instead of a nipple. I approached slowly and hesitated. I finally decided to grab the bull by the horns and caress the two scars. -It must have been hard. “You can’t imagine it,” Carol said a little more relaxed when she saw that she reacted normally. “It was eight horrible months, but now I’m fine.” -Do you know why they are beautiful? –Ask without stopping caressing them –Because they are the symbol of your victory over the disease. Don’t forget every time you flail in front of me. I took care of the rest of his clothes, with a masculine touch of haste and clumsiness. When I laid her on the bed I was still a bit nervous, so I chose to lie down next to her admiring and caressing her entire slender and youthful body as if it were a work of art. More and more self-assured, she turned to me as I unbuttoned my pants and searched for my erect penis inside her. His soft, warm hands made me boil with excitement. With two kicks I took off my pants and shorts. Carolina stroked my cock a bit more and put it in her mouth. Her thick, warm lips wrapped around my cock and made me moan with pleasure. His hot, wet tongue caressed my glans making me shiver. I gently turned her head to avoid coming immediately and knocking her underneath me. Kissing her mouth again, I inserted my hand between her legs caressing her pubis. Her sex became aroused and she moaned with lust. Little by little my mouth went down her body nibbling and licking while my fingers played with her sex making her squirm. Unable to hold back for another second, spread your legs and penetrate her. Carol pressed against me and clawed at me moaning loudly. Her pussy was hot and wet and my cock was delicately making its way inside her. At last, his gaze was clean, there was no pain, there was no remorse, there was only desire. I get asked over and obediently the lift and put her slight body on my lap. Without stopping looking into my eyes she took my cock and inserted it millimeter by millimeter inside her. With a mischievous smile, she began to move up and down my cock with exasperating slowness. If I tried to increase the pace, she would move away and take control again. Despite this, just watching her enjoy, stretching her sweaty body, and letting her caress her without hesitation was enough for me. When she thought she had made me suffer enough a quick push gave way to a frantic ride, sweaty and panting up and down, twisting, moaning, yelling, and insulting me. She was still on top of me when I came. My penis twisted and expelled its contents inside her, arousing her even more. I, with a quick movement, turned and fell on her penetrating her with all my strength. In a few seconds, I noticed how my penis vibrated due to the uncontrolled spasms of her vagina. Only a brutal orgasm forced her to tear his eyes away from mine. Moments later we were side by side staring at the ceiling drunk with sex. “I want to make you a gift,” I said, reflecting aloud. -Are you going to give me a painting? “Not exactly,” I replied as I blindfolded her with an almost clean cloth. – And no cheating. After making sure I couldn’t see anything, I went to one of the corners of the room and grabbed the cart. With a cotton ball, I spread the antiseptic solution over her torso and what was left of her left breast. “Now don’t move,” I said as I turned on the tattoo machine. “How romantic, he’s going to fill my tooth,” Carolina replied with a laugh. – With this, you earn your living? -No, with the painting I earn a living, and with this, I pay for everything else. – I answered – Let me know if it hurts. Very well said Carol when I started my homework -¿ This is what complainers who get tattoos? They would have to try six-week sessions of chemotherapy and one-off, and another six of chemotherapy and so on for several months. – It must have been very hard. I said as I moved through her navel towards her breasts. – The funny thing is that for me the week of rest was much worse. The pain does not let you think about what you are going through. However, when you are a little better, you wonder if all this suffering will be worth it or even worse in the real possibility that you can die when you have just begun to live. The tattoo session was not as painful but it was as long as a chemotherapy session, so when I finished I was exhausted and she was cramping from being forced not to move. Finally, I moved her body slightly to admire how the skin of her torso waved the leaves and flowers that she had tattooed just as the wind would have done. Before removing the blindfold, I smeared the tattoo with abundant antibiotic cream and covered it with various dressings. -Well, list. I said, taking off the blindfold. -Dumbass. Won’t you let me see it? -You cannot leave it in the air for up to three days, otherwise, it could become infected and the colors would be damaged. I replied maliciously. -OMG. It’s very late. –Said Carol as she hurriedly put on her clothes and kissed me goodbye. -Will we meet again? I’m not done with you yet. I asked as I got up and accompanied her to the door in a chopped ball. -Finish, in what sense? She replied with an evil smile. -In all. Take my card, call me whenever you want, or come see me. I had a great time Carol. “Me too,” Carolina said with a pout, “and don’t call me Carol.” The following days were quite busy preparing an exhibition, but that didn’t stop me from talking to Carol on the phone. I barely managed to keep her fooled into not taking off her bandages. On Tuesday morning at seven in the morning, she finally took off his dressings and woke me up on the fifth try. I was delighted with the tattoo. She said it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and almost through tears she told me that she would never forget it. She told me that she would stop by my house in the afternoon and she hung up on me before I could answer anything saying that she had to do something at that time. The rest of the morning I was super excited waiting for Carol, so when I received a second call from an unknown number, I was far from prepared for what I was going to hear. “Say,” I answered trying to imagine who could be in such a hurry to talk to me before one in the afternoon. “Hi,” said a soft voice, apparently from a middle-aged woman, from the other end of the line. “You don’t know me but I just met you.” I am Julia, Carolina’s mother and I want you to know what you have done. All the excitement that had accumulated during the morning up to that point, it instantly passed me by. I instinctively flinched and was about to hang up but wasn’t about to give up on Carol so easily so I tried to reply: -Lady, I want you to know … -I’m sorry, but I prefer that you don’t interrupt me while I’m talking to you, because if not, I don’t know if I can finish. –Julia continued leaving me with the word in my mouth. -Before having the disease, Carolina was a beautiful girl and a perfect daughter. Always happy and ready to help. And then three years ago she was diagnosed with cancer. – Julia began taking a second to catch her breath – During the illness she fought like a lioness, she underwent chemotherapy cycles without complaints. Even cheering us on in our low moments. Even when she was told that they were going to have to operate and have his left breast emptied, she did not seem to be affected and carried on with a strength that surprised us. But everything changed after the operation. When she saw those two…. terrible scars she began to cry and although completely cured of cancer she fell into a deep depression From that moment in the story, the woman’s voice began to tremble slightly: -We paid for the prosthesis surgery on our own to shorten the waiting time as much as possible, but with the scars, the doctors could not do anything. For the next year or so, she closed in on herself and practically cut off all contact with what previously interested her, friends, reading, studies, everything was parked, apparently forever. We took her to two psychiatrists to no avail, until six months ago we met Dr. Blanco. With infinite patience, she managed to get her out of her silence and although she was never the same again, at least she began to be interested in what was around her. And then you showed up. -On Friday we were about to go crazy when she arrived. My husband, a retired police officer, was already about to call his former colleagues. We were going to give her a championship row for not having warned us, but the smile she wore on his face froze ours. The first frank smile in two and a half years. The following days, contrary to what we expected, the smile remained together with something else that we could only define as expectation. -For us, anything was better than the hell we had been through, so when she met us this morning dressed only in a bathrobe we were prepared for almost everything. -When the robe was opened we couldn’t believe it. – Said the woman with a deep sob – The entire left part of Carolina’s torso was occupied by a mass of vegetation and flowers that tangled and moved with each breath and each movement of her torso. Instead of scars, there were now strange colored flowers and insects, instead of a woman with a mutilated breast, there was a beautiful woman with unique beauty. A woman who for the first time was proud of who she was. The unstoppable crying of the woman interrupted the narration and left me stunned without knowing what to do with the mobile. The moment was dragging on and she was about to make an excuse and hang up when a male voice came on the phone. -Hi son, I want you to know that you have given me the most embarrassing moment of my life. I had not seen my daughter’s naked body since she was six years old. In any other situation, this would have been enough to shoot you, but what you have done to my daughter is the most beautiful gift that no one has given her or will ever give her in her life. And you can do what you want, leave it lying without explanations even, that it will not be enough for me to forget that you have returned it to us. -By the way, how did you find me? -Oh, that doesn’t matter. I still know a lot of people in the police force. By the way, we would like … this to stay between us, you know, which is not to find out what we talked about. We just wanted to thank you for what you have done, not only for her but also for the whole family. When she knocked on the door, she was still a bit overwhelmed by events. It was funny, now I was the one who looked confused and she was the one who oozed joy and vitality from every pore. -Hi Jam, have you missed me? Do you want me to pose for you? “If I tell you the truth, Carol,” I said, taking her in my arms, “I’m going to make love to you all night, and then maybe I’ll cry through dust and dust.” There is no greater condemnation for an artist than not being able to exhibit his masterpiece. -Look at it another way, it’s also the only chance that an artist never gets too far from it –replied Carolina Starting to undress…

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