chapter 1

She’d been talking about doing it for a long time. Any time the conversation came up at a party, Molly would join in, talking about where she was going to do it, even the guy that she’d picked out. But it was one of those things that she never really thought would ever happen.
Until last night.

She’d had a few rounds of sake with some sushi and been on her way home, when she’d passed a small, dingy shop with a sign on the window: “Bubba’s Late Night Specials”
“Screw it,” Molly thought to herself. It was time to stop dreaming about the day when she finally summoned up the courage to take a risk like that. It was time to stop pretending that she was just waiting for the perfect guy to do it at the perfect time in the perfect place. It was time to go for it.

And so last night, Molly had gotten a tattoo.
She had awoken with two pains—one in her head, from the drinks, and one on the small of her back, just above her arse. Within a few seconds, everything had come flooding back to her—the neon “tattoo” sign that had lured her in, the brief explanation of the tattoo that she’d been planning of for half her life, and the pain of getting the tattoo applied.

The tattoo “artist”, if one was feeling generous enough to call him that, had been called Bubba, and he put one more in mind of a gorilla than someone to be trusted with a needle and the ability to permanently mark one’s skin. He was short and hairy, but he’d seemed to perfectly understand her description of what she wanted for the tattoo, and had set to work on it immediately.

Molly worked in graphic design. Astrology had been an obsession of hers for years, and she’d wanted a tattoo to celebrate her passions. It had started as a discussion when she was a teenager—“What tattoo would you get to sum you up?”—Molly had thought about it for months, and when she’d found the answer she knew she had to make it a reality. She had to have it.

Molly was a text book Taurus. She knew as a teen she would one day become an artist because Tauruses are famed for creativity. An earth sign, which has a feminine or negative polarity, Taurus is ruled by the planet Venus, which is named after the goddess of beauty. Being an earth sign, it’s rooted in all pleasures associated with earthly delights. All of which is to say: A Taurus likes nice things, and they like those things in tangible manifestations.

Molly wanted something subtle, something elegant. After years of thought and numerous concept drawings she decided on the simple beautiful constellation of Taurus on her back with some watercolor swashes that looked like the Northern Lights. It was ideal— it represented everything from the universe's divine information about who and what she really was, to the field she worked in. It was the perfect tattoo.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t what Bubba had given her.
Molly had a glass of water and some aspirin before she thought to check out her new ink in the mirror; she lifted her shirt, swivelled to get a good view, and dropped the glass in shock when she saw her new tattoo.

It was printed in a font that wasn’t easy to read in the mirror, designed to look like spray-painted graffiti, but after a few seconds of squinting, Molly saw what her new “tramp stamp” read.

“Fat Cow Slut”

Molly’s apartment was suddenly a flurry of activity as she grabbed her bag and her keys, got dressed (her headache forgotten, flushed away by her fury) and left. She was going to find “Bubba”, and she was going to give him a piece of her mind. How dare he?! How dare he deface her body like this?!

It was…well, it was definitely ILLEGAL, she knew that. It was a breach of contract, false advertising…LIBEL! Bubba wouldn’t know what hit him.

As Molly stormed down the street, retracing her steps from last night, she attracted more than a few glances. She was an attractive woman—standing just over five feet, she had generous curves and a face that was impossible to ignore. When she smiled, she could light up a room, but even with her face in a scowl and her eyes shooting daggers, she was still attractive, in a dangerous kind of way. Even with her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing whatever casual clothes had been closest as she’d stormed out of her apartment, guys noticed her. Hell, girls noticed her.

After half an hour of stomping around the city, trying to recall where her and the girls had stopped for a meal and drink and how she’d found her way home from there, Molly found the place. It was simply called “Bubba’s”, but when she entered, the gorilla-like man of the previous night wasn’t there. A tall, well-dressed man man with glasses smiled at her as she entered.
“Hello! Welcome to Bubba’s. My name is Mitchell—how can I help you today?”

Molly stared at his glasses. There was something slightly strange about them—the glass was slightly too thin, or too thick. Light didn’t reflect off them the way that it should. When she stared at his glasses, it looked…it almost looked like she could see rain behind them.

Mitchell didn’t say a word as the busty young lady entered his shop and stared at him. He knew that she would speak when she was ready, and that whatever problem she had, he would be able to solve it.

After staring at the rain for a few minutes, Molly remembered why she was here. It was odd…she wasn’t angry any more. It was if all her anger had simply been washed away.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she started apologetically. “I was here last night, and the man…” “Ah yes, you must be one of Bubba’s late-night specials. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I was here to get a tattoo of a star constellation, and…instead, he gave me this.”
Molly turned around, and pulled up her shirt. To make sure that he could see the results of Bubba’s work, she wiggled slightly and lowered her pants as well. Not a lot, just so that the top of her crack was showing. She wanted to make sure that he could read what that fool of a man had done to her.

“Fat…cow…slut.” Mitchell read the tattoo slowly, letting each word roll around his mouth before continuing onto the next one. His words seemed to echo around the small shop, bouncing off the walls until they settled firmly into Molly’s head.

“What seems to be the problem?” he continued.
Molly turned around sharply, prepared to snap back and tell the man exactly what the problem was, but before she could, she caught a glimpse of his glasses again. Her entire body went slack, and when she remembered what she was saying, she noticed some drool had dried on the side of her mouth. How long had she been standing there?

“Well,” Molly replied, suddenly demure once more. “You must see…that’s not what I was after. I wanted the Taurus constellation. You know, the big bull? Bos Taurus - Latin for cattle?”Why had she described it like that? Everyone knew what Taurus was. Before she could apologise for her strange choice of words, Mitchell had replied, and she found herself staring at his glasses once more as he did.

“And that’s how you put it to Bubba.”

Molly couldn’t remember, but she supposed that made sense. She’d been drunk, and it had probably seemed like the most obvious way to describe the symbol. She nodded, wondering how the man’s glasses seemed to reflect the bright, glaring sun, even though it was overcast outside.

“Well, that’s probably the problem. Bubba is an amazing artist, but he sometimes gets confused about words. When you told him you wanted a cow, he must have thought you wanted it to say the word ‘cow’.”

That didn’t seem to make much sense to Molly, but she nodded along, not wanting to be rude and interrupt. Mitchell continued.
“And you probably told him that you wanted a large tattoo, a big cow that took up half of your back. Is that right?”

Molly’s dream tattoo was about the size of a half dollar, so that it could easily be hidden in the workplace. The tattoo was for her and anyone she wanted to share it with, not for the world to see. She started to disagree, but Mitchell kept talking before she could.

“We have a unique pricing system here—we price based not on size, but on design. Bubba would probably have mentioned that, maybe he would have convinced you to get a big fat one that showed off your natural beauty.”
That made a lot of sense. Molly wasn’t a scrooge, but she didn’t make a huge amount of money, and she knew a bargain when she saw it. Once Bubba explained the pricing scheme, of course she would have wanted a big tattoo. Why wouldn’t she?

“So when you said ‘fat’, Bubba probably added that to the tattoo.”
Molly nodded once more. Poor Bubba, she must have really confused him, saying ‘fat’ and ‘ big cow’ like that, over and over again. That explained the…wait, no.
“Then why does it say ‘slut’?” she asked, frowning slightly.

The man lowered his glasses, and Molly had to take a step backwards when the full force of his gaze hit her. It wasn’t the glasses reflecting light, it was the man’s eyes—it was as if there was a storm inside his head, and his eyes were windows, protecting the world from the rain and the lighting and the thunder…