Chris Owen - Gemini,

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Gemini
by Chris Owen
Torquere Press
Copyright ©2004 by Chris Owen
First published in torquerepress.com, 2005
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2
Gemini
by Chris Owen
Chapter One
So, I'm at work last night, just doing my shit.
Clearing out a bunch of old tat mags, trying to keep the
place from being an utter dump, when this guy comes
in. I'm watching him out of the corner of my eye as he
checks the place out, and I'm wondering what the fuck
he's in here for. He's doing all the right 'new to tattoo
parlor' shit, looking at the health inspection certs and
stuff, but he just looks so wrong in here.
He's real tight-laced looking, wearing jeans and sneakers,
and this t-shirt that looks like it was ironed; not a wrinkle or
loose bit about him. He's got light hair, cut real short, and he
looks like he'd be more comfortable in a lecture hall
somewhere discussing politics. Municipal politics.
I finish sorting the mags and watch him looking at some
art on the walls. Celtic stuff, intricate knot work. Not the thick
bands, but delicate tats that take some time and are totally
worth the effort. He's about my age, I think, but he looks way
younger, really soft around the edges. And he looks so
scared, I wonder if he's about to piss himself.
So I wander over and look at the flash with him. I point to
one of the knots, a lacy vine thing that is gorgeous and not as
girly as it sounds. "That's a nice one."
He looks and me and nods, gives me this shy smile. He's
got green eyes.
"Yeah. Not here for art though. Got an appointment with
Bobby in about five minutes."
3
Gemini
by Chris Owen
I blink and look him over. Bobby is the piercer, and I've
got this guy figured for maybe an eyebrow ring—something to
scare his parents with, but nothing too exotic.
"Yeah?" I say, "What're you getting done?" I kind of quirk
an eyebrow at him, trying to look friendly 'cause he's hot.
Still, I'm not really picturing this guy going in for body mods.
He kind of looks away from me for a second, then back.
"Nipple."
And I can't help it, I grin and bring my hand up to my
chest and press my shirt tight, showing my own off. "Hey,
you should get them both done," I say and wonder why the
hell I'm saying it. Then my mouth keeps talking. "Then you
can link them with a chain, like I do. Feels real cool."
His eyes get a little wild and he looks me up and down,
then grins. "Can I see?"
So what do I do? I lift my shirt for the pretty boy. Not sure
where my brain is at this point. I've got rings in both nipples
and this fine gold chain linking them. He's staring at my chest
and I can feel myself start to get hard, 'cause, well, I'm me.
Then he reaches a hand out to me, and pulls it back.
"Go ahead," I say. Shy always gets to me—I think it's a
personality flaw. Maybe.
He reaches out to me again and fingers the chain lightly,
then steps a little closer and tugs on it. He's holding my eyes
and he's working the chain like he knows exactly what it's
doing to me, sending bolts of fucking fire to my cock, and
then he says, real quiet, "Like that, do you?"
4
Gemini
by Chris Owen
I nod and try to grin, but he's looking me up and down,
real slow and his eyes are hot and I can see he's getting hard
in his jeans.
Bobby sticks his head out the door and calls him, so he
lets go of my chain and smiles at me. Says, "Yeah, maybe I'll
do both." Then he's gone.
I go to the desk and hunt up his release form. His name is
Paul and I was right, he's my age. Exactly. We share a
birthday.
When he comes out he's got both nipples done and orders
to keep a chain off until they heal. When he leaves he's got a
business card with my name and number on the back.
* * * *
So he didn't call. No big, wasn't really thinking he would.
He was pretty though, and he was into me, I thought. Little
disappointing, but I guess that just shows that I'm lonely and
a sucker for pretty boys with green eyes who look like they're
needing to be debauched.
Then I was at work, about three weeks later, right about
the supper rush time. It's amazing how many people stop in
on a weeknight on their way home from work, just to look at
the art on the walls, or talk about mods. Anyway, I was at the
desk, booking in this chick who was having trouble deciding
between this fairy with anime eyes or a classic dolphin for her
ankle. I'm being nice to her, setting up the appointment and
shit, but I'm thinking "Christ, lady, this is fucking permanent
ink, you're gonna have it for a long time. A tat should mean
something to you, not be a pretty little whim that you put
5
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