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Learning to trust and accepting the release

I went to Sharon's house that night expecting the usual: some young and some old friends hanging out, nothing too spectacular. Maybe there'll be a modification comparison: it seems that there is a returning interest among our group. I almost didn't go, though. I sat at home, thinking about my day job and how stressful the current projects and assignments were this time around. I wanted to call Sharon and beg off. I didn't have any particularly new mods to show off, nor had I filled in anymore of my back tat. I thought I'd go out, though, just to say, Hey, and come home early.

When I got to Sharon's, the house was already in a rather mellow mood (nothing illegal, just sort of laid-back, Delaware hanging-out style for us professionals); everyone had a drink and was enjoying relaxed conversation. Sharon and I took our drinks out to the back porch, and I told her my plan to just stay for a while, citing my stress levels. She said that there was something I should try, grabbed my hand and took me to the basement...

In the basement, there were more people; most of them were Sharon's friends from the piercing shop, some of them were people I'd never seen before at her parties. I was sure that what she had in mind for me was actually in the garage (something, er, green, maybe), and made my way over to the door.

"Kathy!" Sharon called, having stopped by her vinyl recliner.

I went back, an eyebrow raised. I figured she was introducing me. I wasn't too far off.

"This is Petey."

Petey looked every bit as scary as any biker does to the untrained eye. He was heavily tattooed and modified, tall, strong, and beefy. He looked not like my type (and I was afraid that Sharon's intent was to hook us up) and I was already trying to come up with an easy way to get out of this when Sharon continued: "He's here to do piercings tonight. You know, if you felt up to it."

I looked at Sharon, shaking my head, "Nah, I'm good for mods right now..."

Petey jumped in, then, explaining that he wasn't going to do anything permanent, but rather, some play/temporary piercing.

This seemed a little odd to me: "Temporary piercings? What's the point in that?"

Sharon jumped in, "It's for the thrill that comes with the initial piercing without the trouble of keeping the hole. You should try it. It's a great release."

Petey patted the chair, as if to encourage me to sit down, and I was ready to protest, but realized that the room was sort of waiting for me to sit as well. So, sit I did, surrendering, "I'll give it a try, but I want you to stay Sharon," motioning her closer and then whispering, "I don't really know these people..."

Sharon pulled up a chair, held my hand, rubbing and massaging my fingers, while Petey went over to the make-shift bar and retrieved his shiny, sharp objects. I felt a surge of excitement wash over me as my half-closed eyes caught a glimpse of the stainless steel.

Snap! Went the latex gloves as Petey prepared himself. He opened the alcohol and gently prepped my forehead, talking softly the whole time. His voice alone was relaxing and I honestly was no longer thinking about my job.

The first slender needle went in the middle of my forehead with nary a sensation, save euphoria. I've always been easy to pierce (in the normal piercing places) and have seldom thought of it as a painful process. I rarely work myself up over it beforehand. Reclining there, I imagined this was close to acupuncture, except that the needles were piercing, not pricking.

Six more needles, three to each side of the original forehead pierce. Petey increased the size of each pair (I didn't think to ask what size. I just remember him saying, "A little bigger. Good girl."). He finished my forehead and asked me if I was comfortable.

I was more than comfortable at this point; I was practically blissed out.

"'k... Would you like more?" He asked.

Sharon rubbed my hand some more, I squeezed her hand back, nodding to them both. Sharon let go of my hand and started to unbutton my shirt. She was nervous and fumbled the buttons, taking twice as long. I felt aroused at the thought of her unbuttoning my shirt, and then remembering that I hadn't a bra on... My normally modest self was lost, though, as I was truly in the moment. I didn't mind that a room full of strangers was going to see what I tried so often to keep covered. Not with Sharon there. Not with this moment of blissful existence.

Petey admired my chest tattoo (vines encircling the underside of my breasts). I thought to blush, but the action didn't register physically.

He then resumed his process, prepping my collarbones, my sternum, the crests of my breasts, above my navel. His touch was gentle, the needles were increasingly larger. I felt no pain.

When he finished, Sharon kissed me gently on the crown of my head. The room had emptied by about half, but she and Petey stayed. Petey kept talking in his soft voice, Sharon took up holding my hand again.

I stayed that way for some span of time before the chill of the room registered. Before I could motion for him, Petey was up and diligently removing the needles, depositing them in a sterile container for future cleaning. Each withdrawal left a noticeable void but also a renewed sense of balance. I felt grateful to the both of them; as soon as the last needle was out, I opened my eyes, looked at Petey, and thanked him.

I went to work this week. There was no evidence of my night on my forehead, the marks were well-hidden on the rest of my body. But at any particularly stressful time, I found myself searching out for one of those temporarily pierced parts, feeling a renewed inner-connection between myself and my body.


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 16 Oct. 2003
in Ritual

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Artist: Friends+and+strangers
Studio: Someone%27s+home
Location: NW+Delaware

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