Gemotions

The gallery owner, a woman with a sharp bob and even sharper wit, had cornered him. "Magnificent," she was saying, gesturing towards the back of the room. "The way the light catches… exquisite." He followed her gaze, his pulse kicking up a notch. On the tanned skin of a young woman's upper arm, inked in perfect detail, was his "Solstice Bloom" – a swirling design of sun and petals. He felt a sudden, odd heat in his chest, a strange pull in his gut.

He found himself stepping closer, drawn by some unseen force. The woman, oblivious, chatted with a friend, laughing. He saw the subtle swell of her collarbone as she tilted her head. His breath hitched. He wanted, desperately, to trace the lines of his work on her skin, feel the texture of the ink beneath his fingertips.

He cleared his throat, the sound a little rougher than intended. "It’s... perfectly executed," he managed to say, his voice strained. He took a long, steadying drink of his lukewarm champagne. The bubbly liquid did little to quench the sudden desert in his mouth.