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Queen of Spades tattoo

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Sometimes a simple gag can backfire. What seemed funny at the time turned out to be very serious.
Annie and I had been interstate at a wedding. After the reception and feeling full of play, six couples went off into town in search of some more drinks and whatever else came along. More drink we certainly had and we found ourselves wandering the club scene marveling at the nightlife.

We stumbled into a tattoo parlor because one of our friends wanted to get his wife Bec a tattoo of a dolphin on her ankle. The other four couples weren’t interested but Bec asked Annie to stay with her as she feared the tattoo would be painful.
Annie was very happy (very drunk actually) and slurred she would do anything for her friend – even have a tattoo as well to share the pain with her.
I shrugged. ‘Whatever makes you happy Annie. Where will you have one and what will it be?’
‘I dunno. I like dolphins too but that’s what Bec’s having. I want something different. You choose. Surprise me.’
Big mistake number 1 - she shouldn’t have left it to me.
… followed by big mistake number 2 - I shouldn’t have taken the liberty.

I took the tattoo guy aside and, for what seemed at the time to be a bit of a giggle, I said, ‘How about a Queen of Spades on her left boob. Put it where it’s out of sight unless she has nothing on.’
‘Great idea man,’ said the tattoo guy. (Later I heard him say the same thing to just about everyone and everything. He certainly wasn’t thinking of me when he called it a ‘great idea’.)
‘You wait out here and watch the shop for me and I’ll do the tattoo in the back room otherwise we’ll have a shop full of perverts.’ Sounded reasonable, and it did take a while. Quite a while.

The rest of the evening was pretty untidy. We found the others and all crawled from bar to club and back again and by the time we found our hotel, most of us were well out of it – especially Annie. Too far gone for sex, she collapsed into bed, and as I took her clothing off I noticed her panties were very wet. They smelled that special, sweet smell of sex and a two-finger poke of her cunt confirmed my suspicions.
That bastard tattooist, I thought. He must’ve fucked her in the back room. No wonder it took so long. And he still charged me! Bastard!

Next morning, as expected, she woke feeling a bit poorly. She complained of a headache and headed for the shower.
Stroking her tender cunt gingerly she grinned and said, ‘Feels like you took advantage of me last night.’ I didn’t dare say it wasn’t me.
Then, ‘Ouch! Honey, look at this?’ she called from the bathroom, gently rubbing the tortured skin of her breast. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s the tattoo you asked for last night.’
‘Did I? Oh dear, was I that drunk. You know I’ve always said I wouldn’t have one. It’s really sore. Why isn’t it on my ankle and what is it anyway? It looks like a heart but it’s upside down?’
‘No dear, it’s not a heart. You asked me to choose something so I thought I’d give you a Queen of Spades symbol.’
‘A Queen of Spades?! What’s that for? I love a game of Blackjack at the casino but why a Queen of Spades?’
Then it dawned on me that my little giggle might not be so funny. Last night it had seemed like a funny thing to do. I thought she’d know what it was and share the joke. Another big mistake. I was going to have to explain what it was or she’d probably show it to all her friends and workmates and someone was bound to tell her.
Worse still, others who didn’t know her might see it and think … well you know what they’d think.
‘Ahh … well … it’s a symbol that in some circles means you like black men.’
‘Well I do like black men – some of them. Same as I like white men and all sorts of other men. There’s good and bad in every race. This doesn’t make sense.’
‘Err … well … it sort of says more than you just like them.’
‘Like what sort of ‘more than just like them’ ’?
‘Look it was just a joke and it’s not where anyone’s likely to see it.’
‘Rob’, she demanded, ‘what sort of ‘more than just like them?’
I was going to have to come clean.
‘It sort of says you like to … well … sort of …f-f..sleep with them.’
The roof came off!
‘I sort of WHAT!?!?’
‘Well, I heard you talking with the girls at the reception and you said something about wondering what it would be like to fuck a black man.’
“Maybe I did! I’ve also wondered what it would be like to live in Antarctica but that doesn’t mean I want to – let alone go there!!’
‘Honey, I’m sorry. It was a silly joke. We were both pretty drunk and I couldn’t think what you’d like. The tattoo guy suggested it,’ I lied.
‘Since when does some low-life tattoo guy get to choose what goes on my body?! Did you know then what it meant?’
‘S.s.sort of, yeah,’ I mumbled.
‘Sort of?! Jesus Rob! You really surprise me. You’ve branded me a black man’s whore and I’ve never even been with another white man since we met. Maybe I should. Teach you a lesson. You’d better find out how to get the tattoo removed without a complete mastectomy.’
She hardly spoke to me for a week and refused to let me in the bathroom when she was undressed. She even started sleeping in the spare room. I’d fucked up big time and I knew it.
But I still didn’t realise how big.

I found out removing a tattoo was not easy. It would leave some scarring and plastic surgery was expensive.
It was now weeks after the wedding and Annie was still livid with me. She kept promising payback and I wondered what that might be apart from denying me any sex.

About three months after the fateful tattoo night, Annie began to have an arrogant attitude towards me. Something had changed and I didn’t know what. She started going out without me and was evasive about where she went.
She came home pretty late one night, very drunk.
‘So you wanna know where I been?’ she slurred. ‘Well, let’s put it this way. We don’t have to waste money on plastic surgery anymore!’
My heart stopped. Fear of the unspoken obvious, terror about the future … but also high excitement.
‘Si’down, say nothing, and I’ll tell you just how funny your little joke turns out to be.’
She sat ‘sidesaddle’ on the couch facing me, her legs parted wide. It was obvious her panties were very wet and she made no attempt to hide the fact.
‘I should probably thank you,’ she started thoughtfully. ‘That tat has changed my life. I’m having a ball – well lots of them actually, and they’re all black.’
Instinctive jealous fear gave way to the tingle in my groin.
‘For a while that tattoo gave me plenty of grief. I couldn’t wear my bikini and some of my favourite dresses and tops were out of the question. Even then I had to be very careful how I dressed and how I moved in company. I couldn’t let anyone look over my shoulder at work and even getting shopping out of the trolley was tricky. Those checkout chicks tell everyone everything.
‘I was in a supermarket the first time someone really saw it. As I leant to get the frozen peas from the freezer, a black guy on the other side glanced over and when I stood up he looked me straight in the eye. I turned bright red but I couldn’t look away cos I knew what he was thinking.
‘After what seemed like ages, I turned and hurried away down the aisle. He followed me all over the store, even out to the car park. There I had to give him the bad news and he called me a prick-teasing slut and stormed off.
‘The same sort of thing happened a couple of times. Then I got mad and decided to roll with the punch and get even. I thought ‘Fuck you Rob. I’ll teach you to play tricks on me’.
‘Next time it happened, instead of blushing and running, I stared back and said to this black guy, ‘Think you’re good enough?’
‘Well I’m black so I’m worth a look aren’t I?’ he fired back.
‘I wasn’t expecting that but that’s when I made the snap decision to fuck someone to get back at you. So I said ‘The Hell with it! Why not? Your place? Now?’ He nearly crashed his car in his rush to drive us to his place!’
‘I need another drink,’ I stuttered. ‘Looks like you need another one too.’

When I came back to the couch, Annie had kicked her shoes off and sat cross-legged, her wet, white panties deliberately taunting me.
She went on.
‘He was big, he was attentive, he lasted a long time, and he got me off three times. He was pretty good. I’ve fucked him several times since.’
I felt the pain of betrayal, but it dissolved as the surge of excitement took hold. Sensing my arousal, Annie grabbed my cock through my jeans and squeezed it hard.
‘You’re liking this aren’t you? Here am I trying to get back at you and you’re getting turned on. You evil bastard! This is probably what you wanted all along!?’
I looked sheepishly down at my lap, partly to hide my grin.

Suffice to say Annie’s ‘blow by blow’ description of the afternoon and several other experiences like it drove us to the bedroom, where we had the longest and most exciting sex we’d had for years.

Life’s certainly been different since then – for both of us. We go out together but don’t always come home together. We’ve worked out a few pretty good pickup routines. Sometimes I stand nearby and watch the chase. Sometimes I get to follow and watch the kill. And sometimes I just stay at home and wait with rising excitement for her return, when I can hear the stories and see the marks and smell the smells of sex.

Here’s an example of how it happens.

Last weekend we headed off to a nearby harbor town for a change of scenery ... and clientele. As we sat at the bar of a busy club, my phone rang and I walked outside to take the call. It took some time and by the time I returned, Annie was speaking to a tall black guy with a strange accent. He might have been African, English or West Indian, it didn’t really matter. He was a pleasant, well-mannered black man – the only essential ingredients.

I approached the bar and stood near but behind him, keeping enough distance not to seem to know Annie but close enough to hear.
He, Damon, was English and visiting some relatives nearby. Annie didn’t rush things (like the first time!) but talked quietly and easily with him. She mentioned our love of sailing and Damon responded that his relatives owned a big yacht, which was moored at a marina nearby.
After some more chat, which somehow had got into relationships and social customs, Damon, noting her wedding ring, asked about her marital situation.
‘Well, I’m married but my husband’s working this evening. He might call me later.’
‘Do you often go out without him?’ Damon asked.
‘Sometimes. He doesn’t expect me to sit at home alone on these warm summer evenings.’
Damon was silent for a long time. He seemed to be searching for words or courage … or both.
Finally he said tactfully, ‘Do you do other things without your husband?’
Annie stared back into his eyes, not a lustful stare just a simple, open stare.
After several seconds, she casually reached her hand up to breast and pulled her dress aside.
She watched his eyes as he looked down at the Queen of Spades, looked back at her eyes, and back down at her breast again.
‘And before you ask,’ she said, ‘my husband paid for the tattoo.’
After another long pause he looked up and said, ‘Would you like to see my cousin’s yacht. He won’t mind me showing it to you.’
‘I’d love to,’ Annie said smiling. ‘I hope it’s got a big mast. Just give me a minute to see where Rob’s up to.’
I hurried away so he would not hear my phone ring.
‘See you back here later,’ Annie said over the phone. ‘I’ll call you when I get back, or if it’s really late I’ll get a cab. Don’t wait up for me,’ she whispered.
Yeah, right,’ I chuckled. She knew there was no way I could possibly sleep until she returned.

They swallowed their drinks hurriedly and headed for the door. As they walked, Annie took Damon’s hand and smiled up at him. I watched, intoxicated with excitement as Annie’s curvy body floated away. You could almost feel the sexual tension vibrating in the room as all three of us anticipated the pleasures to come. Annie said later that as she walked away her cunt was already running wet between her thighs with anticipation.

It was nearly daylight when the phone rang.
‘I’m getting dropped off at the motel in a few minutes,’ Annie said. ‘Hope you’re not too tired from working so hard last night.’
I waited in the shadows to see her arrive, expecting to see her give Damon a passionate parting kiss. To my surprise, he wasn’t in the car. But the two young white guys that were both got passionate farewell kisses.

Back in our room, I said ‘Where’s the black guy?’
‘Probably still asleep on the yacht. He really performed but I wore him out, so I got a cab back to the bar in case you were still there.’
‘So what’s with the two young bucks?’
‘Well, I was dialing your number when I realised my battery was flat. I asked these two young fellas near me if I could borrow a phone to call my husband. I didn’t mean them to see the Queen of Spades but as I reached out to take the phone, one of them saw it.
‘ ‘Are you racially prejudiced?’ he asked me.
‘ ‘No, why?’ I asked him back.
‘ ‘Cos that tat suggests you are. Unless you show equality to us whities, we’ll report you to the Racial Discrimination people,’ he joked.
‘ ‘Perhaps it was because I was still hot from Damon, perhaps I felt challenged by what he said, I don’t really know, but something inside me said ‘Why not?’
‘ ‘How can I stop you from reporting me?’ I asked them provocatively.
‘So I went with them to their grubby little apartment and fucked them both. They were crude, rough and pretty basic but the sex was great. I should apologise to you too. After years of refusing you, I have to confess I’m no longer an anal virgin.’
My pulse rate went ballistic. ‘Did you … did you … fuck them both at the same time?’
She nodded sheepishly.
‘One in front and one behind – face down?!’
‘Mmm,’ she murmured. ‘Then again, face up, one under, one over. It was sensational. Are you cross with me?’
‘Cross!? I’m livid! Not because you gave someone else your anal virginity but because I didn’t see the DP!’
Annie stared at the floor for what seemed like ages.
‘Well I’ve another little surprise for you. The two guys asked about you and I said you liked watching as much as fucking. Then they suggested we give you a special command performance. They are coming round tonight so you can see it. OK?’

We spent the rest of the day fucking and I could hardly wait for night to fall.
‘Honey,’ I said, ‘How would you like a Queen of Spades tank top to wear to the African-American music festival next weekend?’
‘Yes please. And some Queen of Spades panties in case I lose my skirt.’

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