The Tattoo

Carrie stopped by to take you with her to the tattoo parlor. Despite the fact that neither of you had tattoos, the artist had actually had a drink with you on your first date. Now, Carrie had a special project for him.

"Hey Andrew, good to see you," Carrie said, kissing his cheek.

"Hey hot stuff. Hey John, how are you lovebirds doing?" You shifted awkwardly, the entire reason Carrie wanted you here.

"Oh, I dumped him. You know how these things go, Andrew. It just didn't work out, but we're still friends." Andrew blinked and did a take.

"Cool, cool, so what can I do for you guys?" Carrie smiled lasciviously.

"Well, I'd like to get a queen of spades symbol right above my pussy. And I wanted another, smaller queen of spades tattoo on my ankle."

"Oh wow, Carrie. Once you go black, huh?"

"Yup!" Carrie laughed. The three of you went into the back room, and she pulled over her jeans and panties, exposing her smooth waxed pussy. He looked at it for a long moment before the professionalism kicked it.

"Looks like you've been getting some action, Carrie," Andrew said conversationally.

"Well, I dumped him for a black man. So yeah, Jerome has been doing a number on me for awhile now." They talked about how big they wanted it. Big enough that half of it would be visible with a bikini on. Big enough so she'd be the topic of any conversation when she and Jerome were at the beach. The ankle would be smaller. But she wanted to make sure it'd be prominent when she wanted people to know exactly what she was.

While the needle did its work, you held her hand. You got her water. And the most you got in return was a kiss on the cheek. You were her bitch, through and through. And you loved it.