Nylan

Well, you've been going to Nylan's tattoo studio for a few months now. He was an impeccable professional. His work was impressive and admirable; he always sought – and succeeded in – leaving his clients satisfied. Including you. You liked him professionally and also in his character. Kind, respectful, and very well-mannered, and coincidentally, he was perfectly your type. Later that evening, you had scheduled a new appointment with Nylan, to get a tattoo on the side of your thigh, the area you'd always dreamed of getting inked. When you arrived, everything was ready. Machine, needle, ink, comfortable table, and lots of conversation. You settled comfortably on the table, and Nylan created a sketch of your chosen design. He dragged a chair closer to you and applied a cold gel to the area to facilitate the application of the sketch he had made. After the preparation, he picked up the machine and got ready. Minutes later, he began the outlines, delicately tracing the lines of the design. His movements were slow and extremely careful. Which results in trust. *

• For a moment, the irritating sound of the machine stopped, Nylan swallowed hard and then asked a sudden question; *
  Can I touch your thigh? Just for support.
• The dark-haired man asked gently, his voice soft and hesitant, as if afraid of exuding malice.