Black and grey blackwork lace garter tattoo with a small pistol motif on the upper thigh of a woman wearing a black corset and black lingerie.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lace garter tattoo on the thigh

Blackwork · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A woman in a black corset and black lingerie stands with one hand on her hip, cropped below the face so only her torso, arm and upper leg are shown. A dense black lace-pattern garter band wraps the outer thigh, with what appears to be a pistol drawn into the design near the top. The ink is solid black with grey tones in the lace, set against a plain pale grey studio backdrop.

Blackwork Thigh Garter Lace Pistol Corset Woman

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Ada Dunning had been drawing the rose-and-leaf repeat for the London buyers since spring, and nobody had asked her why the thorns on every third stem were a fraction too heavy. The machine room hummed through the afternoon, bobbins chattering like hail on a tin roof, and the net came off the frames in long pale sheets that smelled of starch and oil.

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Her brother Tom had come back from Flanders with a Webley he would not discuss and a cough he would not let her see to. He gave it to her wrapped in a rag on the Tuesday before the strike, and said only that the Hendersons' ledgers were in the bottom drawer of the office safe and that the Thursday van went to Dover. She had thought him mad. Then she had thought of the buyers' cases, lined with green baize, and how nobody searches a lady's lace.

So she worked it in. The pistol went into the design at the top of the band, its barrel hidden in a curl of scrolling vine, its grip a knot of thread the finishing girls would never think twice about. She stitched the length to a template lifted from an old Brussels pattern book, sixty yards of it, and when the foreman held the finished band up to the window and whistled, Ada did not look up from her bobbins.

On Thursday the van left with the ledgers and the lace. Tom was waiting on the Dover quay in a clean collar, a handkerchief pressed to his mouth, and he took the parcel from her without a word. Only at the foot of the gangway did he tear back the corner of the wrapping and show her the small dark glint in the middle of all those roses. "Nobody searches a lady's lace," he said, and climbed the gangway without looking back.