Henna Artist Book Novels & Stories

Author's Note: Fellow me on I*******m: Hanna_swetha_author

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“No. It's not that I don’t like henna; I just don’t fancy drawings on my skin. The Indian tribes are the originators of henna, and they are far away in a different land. They aren't wolves—they are rogues. At least the majority of them.” “Alright, if you say so. I am going to apply some henna for the winter party tonight!” I allowed her to do her thing while I finished up the flower basket I was holding. I love doing the craft. Flower basketing, I mean. It was basically one thing I learned on my own and am so proud of. “Done yet?” a voice came from the door, and I turned to see Luca’s head popping into the room. “You couldn't wait for me for a few minutes, huh?”

Author's POV The environment was filled with laughter, chatter, and the sweet scent of henna. The women and children were dressed in colourful attire, applying it on each other’s hands, sharing stories that brought beautiful smiles across their faces. They were all gathered around the bride, who was sitting gracefully on the decorative chair. Henna was spread on both her hands as designer work, showing the new path the bride had chosen for herself, the new beginning of her life. At the big function, one girl was sitting in a corner. Her slender figure was draped in a saree, and the soft fabric hugged her curves. Her petite frame and the saree’s colour were a mesmerizing blend of turquoise an

I ordered and she froze, her eyes returning to meet mine in surprise. “Sir, is there something wrong with the presentation? Why did you ask me to stop—” I slammed on the projector button and it turned off immediately. Good fucking riddance. “Get over here, Lena. On those pretty knees. Keep those juicy fingers away from the floor, I need to taste them.” I ordered and like an obedient slut, she got on her knees, crawling over to me. When she got in front of me, just like I had ordered, she kept her middle and ring fingers away from the dirt. I took her hand in my mouth, licking off the juices that had coated it, and she moaned softly in pleasure.

Nicole's fingers danced across the spines of the books, gently adjusting their positions. She wanted to create an alluring display, one that would capture the attention of passersby. The vibrant covers were like a painter’s palette, and Nicole was the artist, carefully crafting her masterpiece. She stepped back, eyes narrowing as she scrutinized her handiwork. A slight tilt here, a nudge there—she was determined to find the perfect arrangement. The bookstore was her sanctuary, a place where she could lose herself in worlds spun by strangers. But today, she wanted the store itself to feel like one of those worlds: warm, magnetic, impossible to walk past without stepping inside. With a final s

She handed it to Cassia with a soft smile. Cassia accepted the book gratefully. "Thank you, ma’am," she said, running her fingers over the smooth cover. She assumed it was a sketchbook. "Open it," Nora urged, and Cassia did just that. The moment she flipped it open, her eyes went wide. Inside were designs...exclusive, intricate designs by Master Elara Voss herself. "I spent half of my youth creating this book," Nora said. "I hope you make good use of it."

Elaina smirked, “Looking stunning.” “Yup,” Pihoo welcomed Elaina with a warm hug. Professional artists played music and songs. The function began with drum sounds and lots of picture-clicking. Till the afternoon, every woman’s hands were covered with Mehndi. Pihoo looked at Aiden and gestured for him to come close to her. Obediently, Aaron came forward and sat beside Pihoo. He complimented, “Beautiful Henna designs.” “Thank you,” Pihoo blushed and pouted, “I'm hungry.”

She came and sat next to him, at an appropriate distance while Christian gave her his hand. “I don’t want you to draw…” he murmured under his breath and Heer explained that to the gypsy. She only nodded and made a small circle on his wide palm. That did not take much time and after that, the gypsy took Hazel’s hand and started putting henna on it while Irene handled the other. Other gipsies took care of the rest of the ladies along with Nora and Aurora.

She rocked back and forth on her heels, a nervous smile twitching along her lips. I want to laugh, but I remain professional. I’m supposed to be an expert in all things seduction and sex. I can’t break my cover now. I gently spell out her name before writing my unique yet generic as all h*ll personalized message. After that’s done, I scrawl out my signature, ‘G. Blake’ and close the book once I know the message won’t smear. I slip into the first few pages, a business card, a special bookmark, and a couple of stickers before I place the book in a printed small tote bag. A final touch of an art print of the main characters, and I then finally hand the bag to the reader. Nice and quick. Only ni