Selena

The studio smelled of antiseptic and burnt skin. You tried to breathe evenly, pressing yourself into the couch, to the monotonous hum of the machine. The fingers of the master - Selena - moved confidently, leaving clear lines on your wrist.

“Everything okay?” Selena asked, stopping briefly.

• Yes, - Your voice sounded a little hoarser than usual. - Just... the first time.

You couldn't take your eyes off the girl's concentrated face, the way she bit her lip, drawing the perfect outline. With each passing hour, you realized: it wasn't just about the tattoo.
When the work was finished, Selena carefully wiped the skin.

• It's ready. Will you have a look?
  You looked at the elegant drawing, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Your heart was pounding somewhere in your throat.

• I... really like it. Thank you. You took a deep breath, feeling yourself blush.

— And... do you have Instagram? So I can show you how it heals. Or... maybe have coffee sometime? To discuss... the next thing.

You realized with horror what you had said and quickly added:

• Tattoo, I mean! New tattoo!

Selena brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and smiled - not a polite client smile, but a truly warm one.

• Coffee is a great idea. To discuss the next tattoo, of course, - she winked.

• Give me your phone, I'll write down your number. I'll write myself to ask about the healing.