The store is empty, rows of backpacks and cheap makeup, three for one on pairs of socks. Claire's radio plays Kate Bush's Hounds of Love, steady gated drums. I roll my weight onto my other hip, texting a friend of mine my grievances with the recent food court selection. The new chinese place sucks since it changed owners, bringing the corner of my lip up as I type. Over the steady cello strokes I hear someone coming in, thin legs and pastel colours gripping her mother's hand. Holding my elbow, my phone still near my face I let my eye stray over them. With the rhythm of my thumb I spell F-U-C-K-O-F-F in morse. The little girl is smiling, and together they mill about the displays. They're looking at the earings, cheap plastic gems. Picking through the colours her eyes light up thinking of gentle pink and cyan. Loops with heavy little crystal teardrops hanging from them, considering lemon yellow before deciding against. They grab some training hoops and she places them all on the counter, little fingers splayed over the table. "We were hoping to get my daughter pierced today" the woman says and I don't look up from my phone. I tweet "Hold me down" before directing them to an example binder, asking them where they want it. They whisper to eachother as they tab through the pages, "is this one okay?" her mother smiling and nodding to encourage. Anything for princess. The sound of her fingers on the plastic sheathing. "Um, I want C9" and I look up from my phone, raised eyebrow. "You're sure", holding my phone in a limp wrist. She nods and says "uh huh" under her breath, stepping a little back behind her mother. She softly strokes over the back of her daughters head and she gives me a look that says 'parental permission'. "Whatever she wants" spoken with so much love in her eyes. Ugh, whatever. I place my phone inside my bra, directing her to sit on the hard plastic chair near the back. I bring the plastic gloves over my fingers, testing the stretch of them with my joints. Slowly touching down my hand to smooth the creases over my palm and wrist. I breathe out slowly as I take the rubbing alcohol, the cotton swabs, a roll of paper towel from the back cupboard and reach deeper in to grab an empty box of needles. "Ma'am we're out of needles" looking up to her from my crouch. The girl's cheeks drop, looking down with hands over her lap. "Is there no way you could do this for her? She's been looking forward to this all day". I look her in the eyes. The girl doesn't say anything, brown hair on her shoulders. I roll my eyes and say yeah, sighing out. Our boss doesn't want us doing this anymore. I drop to my knees in front of her and place my sterile hands on either thigh. I can almost meet my thumb to pinky around her fragile legs, slowly coaxing them open and rubbing a finger along the inside to calm her. I say "You're going to feel a little pinch" as she takes her mother's hand in hers. I lean slowly in under her skirt, slipping her panties down her legs and holding her thighs tight. I close my eyes and lap my tongue along the folds of her labia, listening to her little whimpers as I feel out my quarry and take her clit between my teeth, aligning the points of two canines. I give her time to steady her squirming lap against my face before biting in, loud pained gritting her teeth. Little drops of blood light in my mouth, spilling down my lips as I bring them together before lapping her wound clean with my tongue. I could feel her thighs tense near my shoulders, slowly breathing through the pain as I pet her leg and stand back up, choosing not to wipe her blood from my chin. They were holding hands still, her arm shaking and closed eyes. "Mommy, it hurts..." high whining tone. I step over to the counter and pull an aftercare brochure from under it. "Give her a half hour to heal before she walks around, then you can put the training loop in". I get down on my knees again and dap her lap with cotton, just little drops. The woman is whispering "it's okay," and petting down her hair as I avert my attention. I don't notice her drifting away until I hear her behind me. "Are you going to be okay while I run to the bank?" and turning around to look at her, about to say "no" when she asks me to watch her just a minute. I'm not a fucking babysitter but we let kids shop here alone all the time so I don't really have grounds to protest. I say yeah, sure, and give her a fake smile before returning to my phone. She kisses her daughter's forehead and pats her on the shoulder before bunching her purse up under her arm and stepping out into the hall. I post a selfie of my bloody chin on Twitter, streaks and drips on the flat of my chest. I can hear her fidgeting in her seat but I keep my eyes on the constant stream of notifications. A man tells me he wants to clean me up with his tongue and I ask him to fuck off and block him. Her little voice pipes up "excuse me, miss?" and I turn to look at her. She asks if I have any control over the radio. "Bored?" she nods, swaying her feet slowly above the floor. I look at the door for a moment, the throngs of people walking by without even looking in. I tell her corporate has a spotify playlist, taking a seat next to her. "I liked the song that was playing when I walked in, I liked her voice" and looks over at the wall. "Hounds of Love? it's an old song from the 80's, do you want to hear it again?" I pull it up on my phone and show her the album art. She looks at it with parted lips before saying yeah and looking back at me. Her brown eyes shining as I took my earbuds out, sitting close enough beside her not to jostle her leg or injury. One bud in my ear, and then brushing the hair from her face, my fingernails just touching against her soft freckled cheek. We listen to the drums coming in, the steady beat of the cello. She keeps her hands together over her lap. When it ends she asks to listen again and I put it on repeat so she can binge. I ask her if it hurts and she says she's okay. I don't want to pet her arm, lingering my hand before her shoulder. Are you having a good time shopping? She lights up again, the soft lips of her smile. "Yeah, mommy is taking me birthday shopping! She let me get this piercing, and then after we're gonna go to Toys'R'Us!" she moves a little too quickly and winces. I want to tweet "It's coming through the trees" but I don't want to mess with the music playback. She's familiar enough to sing "take my shoes off and throw them in the lake", trailing off after. Light and whispy soprano notes. The hounds of love are hunting. I sigh out, looking away. I never had freckles growing up. I don't want to touch her skin. Kate Bush sings: "I found a fox caught by dogs She let me take her in my house Her little heart- it beat so fast And I'm ashamed of running away" I took her hand in mine. I wasn't thinking about the motion, smooth and natural. Her wrist relaxed against mine and I felt her heartbeat, crossing my legs. I close my eyes and breathe. "It's nice you get along with your mom" I say and she gives my hand a squeeze, looking up at me. "I don't talk to my mom much anymore". She doesn't need to hear that, biting my lip. I can't think of anything else to say, she's so content to just sit there and listen with me. Occassionally she mangles the lyrics until her mom comes back, standing up a bit too quickly but fine enough to scamper over to her. The woman looks at me and says thank you and I say whatever, correct myself to add "It's fine". She says "I hope you weren't too bored", picking her daughter up and holding her on her hip. "We listened to hounds of love!" and she says "is that right, my little fox?" pushing her forehead lovingly against. "Are you ready for the toy store?" She's so excited to leave, wiggling in her arms. She slides down her mother's leg and walks beside her, singing misheard lyrics. As they leave, hand in hand, she turns around to wave at me. I wave back, smiling, making sure no one else can see.