Debbie.
“River? Is that?” I asked, pointing at the tattoo on his chest.
He looked down.
“What?” he asked, oblivious to what I was pointing at.
“Is that… is that tattoo my name?” I asked.
He smiled.
“Yes. It. Is,” he responded while, now, climbing onto the bed.
“I also have another here,” he raised his arm up, by his rib side.
What the f**k!
My hand went to my mouth, clapping it softly in surprise.
“River… oh my goodness… you… you… that’s my face.”
He brought his hand down, smiling. “Yeah. It is.”
“Can I touch it?” I asked.
He raised his hand up again. “Yeah, sure.”
My hand, at the speed of light, touched the skin, brushing over it.
That really was a picture of my face sitting beautifully on his skin.
“Wow…” I mumbled low.
“This is beautiful. Those are the only tattoos you
