Holly starts leading Gail back towards a private room. She stops momentarily to tell a woman drawing at a desk in back to cover the counter if anyone comes in and then continues on to the bigger of the two private rooms. She stands outside the door and gestures her arm toward the inside, inviting Gail inside As Holly is setting up Gail looks nervously around the room, taking in drawings of skulls, paintings of geisha girls, sugar skulls, pin-ups (men and women), and comic book style concert posters.

"Please, have a seat." Holly gestures to the only chair in the room.

"Holly, that's a dentist's chair."

"It is, but it's not your teeth I'll be drilling. And hopefully, you've never had a dentist confuse your rack with your grill." Holly laughs at her own joke, and Gail can't help but smile, until she realizes she is smiling, and then she stops immediately.

"Well, at least you can laugh at yourself, Holly." Gail attempts to use a matter-of-fact voice even as she is beating her looming smile into submission.

"Don't think I didn't see you smile." Holly is now turned away making a copy of what, presumably is Gail's tattoo, but Gail can still hear the smile in her voice.

"It was a grimace. And, P.S. both my rack and grill are perfect specimens of their kind. I have actually had many dentists tell me so." Holly turns around to look at Gail who offers her a teasing smile and wink.

Turning back around Holly pulls the sheet off the copier and starts to cut around the badge, minimizing the amount of paper she'll have to wrestle with as she positions it on Gail's chest. While she is cutting Holly keeps the conversation flowing.

"Do you have any tattoos?"

"Nope," Gail says with a pop.

Holly swings around on her stool again, arches an eyebrow and then shakes her head with a cross between disappointment and foreboding.

"Hhssssss," Holly shakes her head in mock fear for Gail. "Good thing you are passionate about the subject matter."

"Why?" Gail is hesitant to ask but is overcome by a very real fear-based curiosity.

"Well, tattoos aren't without risk. There is the possibility of an allergic reaction to the ink, skin infections, keloids due to the build up of scar tissue, and rarely, tattoos can complicate medical diagnostics like MRIs."

"Wow," Gail says, conveying her displeasure as she makes a move to stand.

Holly quickly swings her arm out and puts it across Gail's chest, pushing her back against the black vinyl of the dentist chair. Both women remain frozen temporarily taking in the the solidity of each other before Holly pulls her arm back.

"I'm sorry. That's poor bedside manner. Lots of people get tattoos, Gail. None of them are near as bad-ass as you. I promise you, it's no big deal." Holly's voice was calm and reassuring. Her eyes were sincere, almost pleading, so Gail relaxes back into the chair. As much as she doesn't want this tattoo, she wants to get tattooed by Holly. She doesn't know why and that is annoying, but she does, nevertheless, know it's true and it has her feeling like a live wire.

Holly spreads some petroleum jelly onto her work surface, a large metal toolbox on wheels, and starts to stick some very tiny plastic containers that almost look like caps into it.

"Are you going to want some color on the badge or do you just want to do some shading to give it depth?"

"Option B sounds the least painful so I'll take that one."

"So tell me about this tattoo." Holly smiles as she makes eye contact with Gail. Although she is legitimately interested in the answer, she also kind of wants to hear the blonde's voice. It was just so . . . sexy. I had a slight huskiness, a smokiness that made it seem like she was meant to sing the blues. "I mean, I don't know you, but you don't seem as excited as I would expect for this being your first tattoo."

"It's a police badge."

"Well thank you Captain Obvious. Is it yours?"

"No," Gail mutters under her breath.

Holly starts to open her mouth.

"Don't," Gail puts a a warning finger up, " ask. I do not currently hate you, but that could change very easily."

"Alright then." Holly gives Gail a single nod of agreement and then scans her up and down. In her head she does it so to evaluate if she is going to need Gail to remove her shirt. Holly knew that checking out Gail's legs should not necessarily weigh in to the decision, but her warm fuzzy parts overruled her professional sensibilities before she could stop herself.

"Okay. I am going to need you to take off your shirt. It doesn't look like it can be manipulated enough to open up the entire area I need to work on."

"Uh huh. How convenient. Are you sure you don't need me to remove my pants too, Holly?" Gail smirks teasingly. "Don't think I didn't see you undress me with your eyes."

"Just because I am a lesbian doesn't mean I am attracted to every woman I meet. Or even every woman who strips for me, and there have been many so, don't get any ideas there Officer. And remember that thing you said about not hating? That road runs two ways and, believe me, you don't want the person with the tattoo gun anything less than happy with you."

Holly's poker face does not let on to whether or not she is kidding and her tone of voice was unrecognizable. Gail's mouth is momentarily rendered useless as her mind reels at Holly's . . . lady balls.

Holly rolls her eyes and lets a smile slowly slide ever-so-slightly up the left side of her face letting Gail know she was kidding, at least about the last part. Before Gail can even breathe a sigh of relief that she hadn't upset Holly, Holly picks up the tattoo gun and starts doing some kind of tests or checks. She pushes a foot pedal and the gun buzzes. It's the kind of buzz Gail can feel in her teeth. No wonder she's sitting in a dentist's chair. Holly uses her long, tan fingers to adjust something on the needley looking contraption and pushes the foot pedal again. She does this a few more times until she seems satisfied, and then she sets the instrument down on the large metal toolbox and turns to look at Gail.

"Now, Gail, about that shirt . . . "

Gail feels her chest due north flush at the request. She is normally not shy about her body, and she's pretty sure she's not feeling shy right now, but she also isn't feeling the detachment of a normal client-business person interaction. That electrical sensation that has been present almost since she got to the shop has migrated to locations perhaps not appropriate in a professional relationship. She hopes Holly interprets the flush as embarrassment. She also give a silent shout out to the powers that be that she is not a man. That particular reaction would be a bit more difficult to explain away right now she ventures.

Unable to muster a smart-ass comment to precede the action, Gail removes the shirt. Holly's eyes widen briefly as she scans the newly revealed alabaster skin that, she's pretty sure, is the most beautiful skin she's ever seen. Skin that she will soon touch . . . a lot. Holly quickly looks away trying to pull herself together. It doesn't but a second to realize if she doesn't do something now that she's turned away, it won't make her reaction any less obvious. Standing, she walks over to a cupboard and takes out a spray bottle, and returns to her stool.

"Ready for the stencil?"