Part 45 (1/2)
”Well, it's a big city, but it's not huge.”
”He was getting a tattoo near his groin.”
Her eyes widen, and she gets this really mischievous grin. She lowers her voice and narrows her eyes. ”Tell me more.”
”He had to be naked from the waist down.”
She covers her mouth and lets out a high-pitched laugh. ”So you saw...?”
”Yeah.”
”Everything?”
”Oh, yeah.”
”Was it weird?”
”What do you think?”
”Because you had kissed him before?”
”That,” I say, nodding. ”And just the general fact that he was naked from the waist down.”
”Oh come on. Think about nurses who have to do that prostate stuff.” She shudders. ”Yuck.”
”Tina said the same thing. She got me in trouble for not being very professional today.”
Rose eyes me. I can see the cogs in her brain turning. Though she hasn't got much self-awareness, she's very in-tune with what other people are thinking.
”Was it your first time seeing a man's p.e.n.i.s in real life?”
”Uh...” My voice fades.
”No!” Rose cries, slapping the armrest of the sofa. ”You're kidding, girl!”
”I'm not.”
”So you're still...?”
”Yes.” I frown, and close my eyes, placing my finger and thumb on my eyelids. ”Is that weird?”
”No!” she says, quickly rubbing my leg. ”There's nothing wrong with being a virgin.”
”Don't say it like that,” I groan.
”But I just find it hard to believe.”
”Why?” I say, my voice raising. This indignation is a convenient outlet for my embarra.s.sment.
”Because of your tattoos and stuff.”
”Well, that's a stereotype.”
Rose sucks in a breath of air. I can see she's thinking about how to word her next sentence.
”I don't mean that all girls with tattoos-”
”Yes you do.”
”No, I really don't! I mean, you just got one pretty early, you were hanging out with all those older kids before I came here to Australia. You know, I just a.s.sumed you would have dated an older guy. One of the guys from that tattoo parlor you always hung out at.”
”Well, I didn't,” I say. ”I cared about the art. And, again, we don't like calling it a parlor. It's a shop, or studio.”
”Okay,” Rose says, putting her hands up. ”It's not like I meant anything by it. What is it with you and this shop-parlor business?”
”Ever heard of a ma.s.sage parlor?”
She nods slowly. ”Yeah.”
”What's the first thing you think?”
”Prost.i.tution,” she says flatly.
”There we go. It's about connotation. No tattoo artist calls their shop a parlor. It's either a shop, or studio, okay?”
”Okay,” Rose says with a sigh.
”Please try and remember.”
”I will, I will. So,” she says, drawing out the word. ”What was he like?”
”Who?”
”Pierce!”
”What do you mean?”
She drops her voice to a very low whisper. ”Was he big?”
I swallow, and nod. There's a twinkle in Rose's eye, as if she's thinking: Unsurprising.
”Did he shave?”
I shake my head.