Immortalia

Chapter 1 - Body Art

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Chapter 1 – Body Art

As Aurora waited for the first customer to approach the boutique, she felt her heart shoot into her throat. Although she’d lost count of how many times she’d been used as a de-facto canvas, there was still a relentless pinch in her stomach at the thought of yet another scar—another round of torture.

Aurora looked around, amazed. The vast emptiness of the display hall, which was quickly filling with a bustling crowd, appeared to shrink in size each time another person entered from the large marble entryway. When she’d arrived earlier, there hadn’t been a soul in sight; now, she couldn’t stretch her arms out without accidentally smacking someone.

It’s starting to smell in here, too, she thought.

She took in each of the boutiques, sizing up the competition. Today was the annual body art exhibition: tattoo artists, body piercers, hairdressers, and a host of the industry’s up-and-coming ink artists had set up shop at every available space in this rented warehouse; Aurora spotted at least a hundred different logos. To her right, she could see a whole row of tattoo artists, and to her left, there were several permanent beauty solutions, ranging from make-up to volume in the hair.

She took her attention away from the competition. She had more than enough to handle, working for one of the only three boutiques that specialized in scarification. Not as popular as the ink, but a great deal more permanent—and noticeable…

And risky.

“Aurora, get ready,” Zachary whispered. “Customers might be coming soon.”

She gulped—partly from fear—and shut her eyes. This was going to hurt; it always did. She glared at her boss. It was the only sign of defiance she allowed herself. Aurora knew better than to talk back to him. Zachary had a bit of a temper, and she still remembered the last time she’d spoken out of turn.

Why do I always have to be the guinea pig?

To those who didn’t know him, Zachary was outwardly a slick, charming, and energetic artist who took an almost religious pride in his work, so even through the insufferable amount of pain, Aurora could at least take comfort in the fact that she’d end up with something pretty to show for it—for a few hours, at least. Much like a true canvas, she’d always again end up blank.

As she’d done every year before, Aurora had dressed herself as seductive and alluring as possible, which meant a skimpy, bareback top and a pair of jeans that fit tightly enough to cut off circulation. This never failed to draw a crowd. The event had just begun, and already she could see people approaching.

“What’s this supposed to do?” a young teenage boy asked. He looked at her chest while he spoke to her. Aurora reopened her eyes and formed her most pleasurable face. This young boy was dressed in all black, and Aurora could have sworn that he was wearing make-up on his pale face. She took him for one of the Goth kids.

“Hey, lady,” he repeated. “What is this?”

When Aurora didn’t respond, Zachary fixed her with a hard, expectant look. She sighed. Zachary, for all his skill and talent, could be one mean bastard. If Aurora didn’t do everything in her power to oblige a customer, there’d be hell to pay.

 “This is called scarification,” she told the boy. “It’s … think of it as a hardcore tattoo.” She pursed her lips, crossed her left leg over her right, and drew back her shoulders to make her snug shirt further expose her breasts. “Do you think you can handle it?”

The boy pointed to a cardboard sign that showed off some of Zachary’s finest work. “I don’t know. That looks seriously painful.”

It is.