Mark of a True Queen

It had never been like this with Chris, simply because he'd never lasted long enough when behind her to make the position viable for anything except for a 'big finish'. His big finish, naturally. Darren, however, had no such issues. He could start and finish in doggy and last more than long enough to give her multiple orgasms before finally pushing deep inside her and setting them both off.

A smile danced across her lips. She was suddenly tempted to call Chris up. Let him come round and learn a lesson. She could talk him through it step by step. He was into that, after all, it seemed. It wasn't about race. It wasn't even about cock size. It was all about confidence, energy, and attitude and, now that she had a guy with all three, she was having the best time of her life. The modern hot-wife should have a bull in the bedroom and a cuck in the kitchen. But, no, Chris was too needy to be worth bothering with anymore. And a seriously fucked up dude with a hidden layer of nastiness as well.

Attitude, though. It was all about hers as well though, wasn't it? The tattoo had been...well, there were layers, weren't there? Once you'd gotten past all the 'problematic' stuff on the surface, it also symbolized a woman who knew what she wanted sexually and took it, a woman who wasn't going to accept three minutes of semi-flaccid sex followed by a mumbled apology.

A woman, in other words, who fucked.

That hadn't been Francesca.

She was pretty sure it was now. This week had certainly been an eye-opener for what her options in life really were. She'd always gone out and tried to find a guy who was respectful, kind, decent. Then, three to five dates in, taken part in the crapshoot to find out his performance level in bed.

This time she'd started in bed.

It had turned out that was the way to go because so far she was fully satisfied.

"Come for me," she moaned. "Oh baby come for me."

That was another good thing. He could probably have gone on longer, another ten minutes easily, but if she told him what she wanted, he'd do it and that seemed to get them both off way better.

Unless it was his turn to play the dominant one. That was fun too.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned. "Your cunt is so good, baby."

And then they were both writhing together, her body shaking and his cock exploding inside her. Her head sunk down into the pillow as the final aftershocks of the explosion washed over her.

"Oh, wow," she said.

He pulled out of her, deposited the condom in the bin, and joined her lying down.

"You know," she said. "It would be nice if we didn't have to use that."

He looked at her doubtfully. For all he'd been enjoying the full use of her, he also wasn't a dummy. The tat also represented a wanton promiscuity. She'd presented herself to him as a slut and that's all he had seen, so far. All she'd dared to show him.

It was time to see if they could move beyond that.

"I mean," she said. "We need to have a conversation. No, not a conversation. I need to tell you a story."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Alright, you want to come and have a seat. I'm Steve, by the way."

It was six months later and Francesca was back in the tattoo parlour.

She took a seat and rolled up her sleeves.

"Let's have a look. Oh, yes, I remember this one. Lovely work. Are you still wanting to have it removed?"

"Quite the opposite, I'd like you to add to it." Francesca reached inside her handbag. "I'm not an artist, but I've doodled the sort of thing I'm after."

As Steve took the paper from it, he said "So those doubts were put to rest, were they? It's true what they say then, I guess? You never going back?"

Francesca laughed. "No, it seems I'm most certainly charging forward regardless."

He examined the paper. "I see the general idea. Um, I mean, I can do this, obviously, but you know, this is a pretty terrible poker hand."

"It is," said Francesca. "But it's what I want."

"I gotta ask," said Steve. "A lot of tattoo artists, when we get together and start drinking and shooting the breeze, we talk about the Queen of Spades tattoos. Some of the guys claim they've done a few and others say it's just an urban myth, or exaggerated or an American thing. Or, you know, web-cam girls getting a stick-on tattoo to add a bit of spice to their shows. You've kind of really gone all in on it, haven't you?"

"Err, I guess you could say that," replied Francesca.

"So, can I ask?" said Steve. "Does it...you know, work? Have you...how to say...slept with a lot of...well, guys, since you got it?"

"Oh, I have slept with, now let me, see..." Francesca made a show of counting off her fingers. "One...yes, one guy. Disappointed? But, in fairness, I have slept with him a lot and it's been pretty fantastic. That's got to count for something, right?"

"Oh, your King of Hearts, I guess," said Steve. "Sorry, I didn't...I mean, I shouldn't have asked. That was unprofessional."

"Ha," said Francesca. "It's okay. I've come to see the funny side of it. And, actually, getting the tattoo has turned out perfectly, in the weirdest kind of way."

"Right you are," said Steve. "When do you want it done?"

"As soon as possible. I don't suppose today would be okay?"

Steve looked at the paper again. "I'll have to make sure I can match the King with the design of your Queen, but as long as I can find that, it shouldn't be too hard. You'll have to give me an hour or so to prep. The Two of Diamonds shouldn't be difficult."

"Okay," said Francesca. "Here's my number. I'll go round the shops while you work. Call me when you're ready."

"Sure thing."

Francesca got up and went back into the shop and spent a moment examining the various designs drawn tastefully on plain white paper. They had designs of skulls and Harleys, designs of snakes and eagles, pictures of hearts and girls. A design for every occasion, it seemed.

Her hand instinctively went to her belly as it often had ever since the scan yesterday. Twins, they'd said. It had been an accident, but she was happy. It felt right. They felt precious.

Darren woul be happy as well, wouldn't he. Her king. She was sure of it. She'd break the news to him this evening by showing him her new tattoo. She smiled to herself just thinking of his face. Of his amazement. It was soon, but it wasn't too soon surely. The relationship had gone a mile a minute. She'd moved in after a month, met his parents the week after (in a dress with sleeves down to her wrists) and the trip to Paris, and the ring, had only been a fortnight ago. No, he'd be delighted.

As she went from display to display, she heard three girls talking behind her. She vaguely thought she recognized them from campus. In a lower year, possibly. They were discussing a design the taller blonde wanted.

"So I was thinking I'd have a rabbit design. Not the Playboy bunny ears, a cute one. I'm from Near Sawney you see, that's Beatrix Potter's hometown. And then I thought the bunny could be surrounded by ice and snow because I'm the captain of the Skiing Club. She's even going to be holding an extra large carrot. It's going to be just the most adorable thing ever."

Francesca hesitated. She was very tempted just to leave it be. After all, you never knew, it might work out for the girl. Maybe. She sighed. No, she'd better.

"Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear..."