In the first month, Becky took her to a brothel.
I know that might sound bad, but trust me, it was much worse...
By that month, Freen's painting was finished, so Becky needed a new model for the exhibition she was planning for late August, less than a year away.
Freen got into the car without knowing exactly where they were headed. She wore her usual tight jeans, her turtleneck sweater to hide her lack of tattoos, boots with minimal platform to avoid tripping over her own feet, and the cap that Eve had eventually given her after agreeing to cover for her on the passionate night she had with her ex after Ying's party.
Becky, as always, was dressed entirely in black, though this time she wore a tight dress instead of her usual pants and t-shirt, but the leather jacket was still there. For the sake of her feet, she went barefoot.
"Where are we going, Becky?" Freen asked in confusion once she noticed that the painter was driving in an unfamiliar direction. "Remember, I need to be home by nine for dinner," she reminded her nervously.
She checked her phone. It was just a few minutes before six in the evening, which meant it would be getting dark soon. In other words, they didn't have much time.
"We're going to the brothel," Becky said simply.
Freen burst out laughing, thinking it was just another one of her strange girlfriend's jokes.
Twenty minutes later, she would discover that Becky hadn't been joking.
_____
Freen watched her girlfriend light a cigarette before they entered the place. She also felt Becky grip her waist tightly.
The tattoo artist coughed at the smell. Becky had been smoking less and less lately, so the scent had become something she quickly forgot about.
"Don't talk to anyone," Becky warned firmly in her ear. "Don't look at anyone. Don't talk to anyone. Stay by my side. Don't stare at anyone's chest, I'm forbidding it. If you want to look at breasts, remember you have a girlfriend who would be more than happy to let you. Don't accept drinks or snacks. Don't do anything you think might not be safe, and even avoid what feels safe." Though her words were cold and stern, Freen knew her girlfriend was worried about her. "Got it?"
Freen nodded slowly, not hesitating to follow her advice, and then they walked through the dingy door of the place.
The first thing she felt was the harsh red lights hitting her eyes. Then she saw crowds of half-dressed men and women moving around, casually making out anywhere. The smell of cigarettes filled her nose. Finally, she heard the countless moans, screams, and conversations.
"Rebecca!"
It was a shrill, almost childlike voice, but it came from the body of a woman in her mid-thirties, wearing a dress so tight and makeup so exaggerated that anyone could guess her profession. Her hair was dark but dull, and she was as tall as Eve, but without any charm.
"Good evening, Mary," Becky greeted politely, and the woman almost seemed ready to hug the painter upon hearing her name from her lips.
Freen immediately felt a sharp pang of jealousy.
She knew this Mary had been the first woman to touch the body of her now-girlfriend. The first woman to draw moans from her. The first woman to make her body tremble.
The first woman in her life.
"Looking for anything specific? I've got plenty of new girls to offer..." Mary was attentive and had an almost angelic smile. Her poorly made-up doll-like face didn't match her role in that place. "...Oh, I see you brought company!" she exclaimed with delight when she saw Freen. "I'm Mary."
YOU ARE READING
The dragonflies tattoist - Freenbecky
FanfictionFreen Sarocha left her mark on people's skin. Rebecca Armstrong left her mark on Freen's heart... forever. _____ FreenBecky converted. Original story by ©AllysonDeVil The translation was done by me. English isn't my first language.