Jo sat alone at the bar, holding a near-empty whiskey glass and thinking that she should just leave. She’d been stood up again. Back in November, Kelly and her had hit it off so well. They’d clicked immediately, had a first date that lasted the whole weekend and promised to go out more. They had a few times, and it had been great, but more often than not Kelly suddenly had other plans. Another friend asked her to go to something last minute and she just took for granted that Jo would be happy to reschedule to whenever and Jo just always said that it was fine. It was starting to not be fine.

And so here was Jo, sitting in City Hall (she wasn’t sure why the bar had such a municipal name), sipping Jameson and spitefully looking around for other women she’d like to try to hook up with instead. Which was pointless. Firstly this wasn’t a particularly queer spot, so any woman here was most likely straight anyway. Secondly she had never approached a stranger like that before in her life. She wasn’t a prude or opposed to sleeping around, she just did not understand how one built up the courage to do something like that or where to start with people. And lastly her and Kelly weren’t even in an exclusive relationship anyway. If she told Kelly she had picked up another woman at the bar she wouldn’t be jealous. If anything she’d be excited to hear the details. And Jo wasn’t going to do it anyway, so she might as well just finish her whiskey and leave.

Suddenly she caught some movement in the corner of her eye. She turned her head and to her surprise there was a woman smiling and waving at her. Lanky, maybe a little older than Jo—late thirties—with freshly-bleached blonde hair that looked like it was still being grown out. She was wearing Docs, denim cutoffs and a pink fishnet crop tank top over a black sports bra. Dressed more for a club than a bar. She was very toned but without much curves to speak of and a face that made Jo think that, like herself, this woman was trans. The blonde had two glasses of whiskey in front of her, which she picked up as she cocked her head in the direction of a secluded booth across the bar. She didn’t even wait for a response before walking over, clearly expecting Jo to follow her.

Jo didn’t want to judge people based on appearances, but the way the other woman was dressed certainly suggested she might be up for casual fun. Jo wouldn’t begrudge another girl being a bit slutty just because she didn’t know how to do it. She had wanted to hook up with someone, but faced with the possibility of it actually happening filled her with anxiety. This girl might have some expectations about how a night might go that Jo might not be able to meet. She was curious about what had caught the blonde’s eye. They certainly didn’t look like much of a match. Jo, chubby, dishevelled, bags under her eyes, was not really dressed for a night out. Jeans, runners, a light, grey, wool top over a T-shirt—what she’d been wearing in work all day. It made her that much more self-conscious. But before she could talk herself into backing out she downed the last few drops of her drink and went to join the blonde girl in the booth. The barwoman made a concerned sounding grunt but turned her head away, not making any further comment. What was that about? Whatever. Just go talk to her, Jo.

“Hi, Kris Carney,” the blonde girl introduced herself with outstretched hand as she sat down across from her.

“Josephine Barker,” she replied automatically as she took Kris’s hand. The polite formality had been so at odds with Kris’s appearance that Jo responded on autopilot, too busy processing the strange situation to think twice about introducing herself with her full name.

Kris must have seen the incredulity on Jo’s face because she cringed a bit and waved her hands apologetically “Oh, sorry, that was maybe a bit weird, I’m new at this!”

“New at—?”

“Being a slut!”

Jo had expected her to say something like “Asking people out at a bar” or maybe even “Dressing like this,” not whatever the fuck that response was. This wasn’t just a newly out trans girl getting to grips with herself; this was a woman with some serious internalised issues that Jo did not want to have to be the one dealing with.

“Wait, hold on! That didn’t come out right. It’s that fucking tattoo’s fault!” Jo was dumbstruck as Kris seemed to grasp for how to continue when a switch seem to flick in her. All the frustration that had been there a moment ago was replaced with a flirty smile again. “Sorry about that. I’m just looking for a good time. How about we just have a drink and get to know each other?” Kris’s leg reached out to touch Jo’s under the table.

“Fuck off!” Jo responded and stood up to go. She had no idea what the hell was going on with this woman but it wasn’t her problem.

“Wait, hold on! I can explain.”

Jo didn’t care what Kris’s explanation was, but the unexpected sincerity in the way she said it took Jo off guard long enough for Kris to stand up and in one swift motion unzip her shorts and pull out her penis. Was this meant to shock her? Did this dickhead think Jo was going to freak out over a penis? Wait, was there writing on it?

“See, it’s this tattoo. Just a couple of weeks ago I was a regular guy, but this tattoo fucked it all up, and now I’m a slut!”

Despite the dim light of the bar she could just about make it out. Kris was, in fairness to her, pretty big and apparently getting turned on and in increasingly large letters along the side of her shaft Jo could make out:

ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀ ꜱʟᴜᴛ

Jo was gobsmacked. She has a tattoo on her penis? She could not imagine how much that would have hurt. She couldn’t help but just stare as Kris started trying to explain.

“Like I said, I wasn’t always a slut. A weeks ago I went out for drinks with Mike from the gym. Real cutie, not that I would have thought so back then. Started off as a normal night but we went a bit crazy on the tequila. Stumbled into this weird tattoo place. Reth Ink? Stupid name. Whatever. Weird vibes but decided to get something funny. ‘If you read this you’re a slut.’ Thought it’d be hilarious to see the look on some bitch’s face after I took her home from the club. Joke’s on me, though.”

Jo wasn’t really listening, she was just trying to process the tattoo itself. It was so utterly childish. Oh yeah, I’m minding my own business at the bar, then you pull your dick out at me and I’m the slut?… I’m the slut. Why did that thought seem to get stuck in Jo’s head? If you can read this, you’re a slut. Kris just kept raving.

“It fucking hurt too. I mean, obviously it was going to hurt. But fuck me did it hurt. The shots helped and Mike was egging me on, but when he saw the finished job he got all weird. Yeah he laughed, but it was, like, anxious.”

What the fuck was this situation? Jo was sitting here reading a tattoo on this woman’s penis, a tattoo that said you’re a slut, while she ranted about a bad night out?

“Mike was going to get a tattoo too, but after he saw mine he chickened out. Got real awkward. Wouldn’t look me in the eye.”

Was there a point to his story? Kris just kept going on but whatever story she was telling about that tattoo was not as arresting as being faced with the physical reality of the thing itself. “If you can read this you’re a slut”? Across her entire fucking penis?! Jo couldn’t stop reading it over and over again. If you can read this you’re a slut. What the fuck. The absurdity of the message, of where it was, of the entire situation seemed to lock up her brain. She was a slut because because someone came up to her at a bar and flipped their junk on the table in front of her? The annoying part of her brain that never stopped overanalysing herself started to chime in, Well you are starting at a cock, that’s a bit slutty.

Kris was still not shutting up.

“The next time we’re hanging out he he asked me to see it again. Tried to play it off as a joke, but seemed like he needed to prove something to himself. Test himself or something. When it was time to take the bandage off I let him be there to see and he just stared at it again. And then he started to act real weird.”

Was this really happening? She just kept reading the tattoo over nad over. If you can read this you’re a slut. It was like the words were ramming their way into her brain. You’re a slut. She felt like her head was getting hit by two trains at once. You’re a slut, you’re a slut, you’re a slut. Was she really staring just because of the weirdness of the situation? Maybe she did just want to stare at Kris’s cock, like a slut.

“Next thing I know he’s asking to touch it,” like a slut, “To suck it. Neither of us were gay but he was begging,” like a slut, “It make me kind of hard, too. Freaked me out a bit. I look down at my own cock and I saw the tattoo. I never really looked at back at that tattoo place after it was done so this was the first time I saw the finished thing. And it was so fucking weird to read that on my own cock. If you can read this, you’re a slut.”

Had Jo said that last sentence out loud with her?

“Yeah. Like it was funny, but like. I’m reading it and I’m like, yeah I like fucking. Who doesn’t? Maybe I am a bit of a slut? But sluts are like, girls. I’m not a girl, I’m not a slut. But I’m staring at my own cock and I’m like, man, maybe I should try sucking one of these some time,” like a slut. “What if I was a slut?” like me. Like me? What was that thought? But Jo wasn’t just starting at the tattoo, she was staring at Kris’s cock and she realised that she was drooling.

“And the whole situation is so fucked. What the fuck was wrong with me? So I tell Mike, ‘Stop being such a slut, bro!’ Like making a joke out of it. Thought it would be funny. But he just fucking moans and says ‘Bro, I think I am a slut.’ And that turns me on so much. Just like the idea of being a slut, y’know? Both of us being slutty girls who needed to fuck. We couldn’t stop ourselves after that.”

Jo had stopped listening again. She just smiled every time she heard the word slut. That sounded hot. Being a slut, seeing someone at a bar she wanted to fuck and just doing it, not worrying about it any more. And if she just read the tattoo, that means she was a slut, and sluts don’t have to be so fucking anxious all the time so read it and be a slut. She read it again. I’m a slut. She kept repeating to herself. I’m a slut. I’m a slut. “I’m a slut.”

“Yeah. Couldn’t get it out of my head. I tried to fight against it, but it’s just true. I’m a slut now. Started hooking up with guys on Grindr. Girls too. Anyone. I was like a bitch in heat. Thought if I just let it out every once in a while it might stop or I’d be able to keep it under control. But every time I did anything I thought ‘Is this what a slut would do?’ Every time I went to the gym I wanted people looking at me. To think I’m hot. To know I’m a slut. Couldn’t stand wearing a suit at work. I couldn’t deny it any more. I was a slut and I couldn’t not be a slut. To be the sluttiest girl I could be. I’m still working on it. Not my best self yet. But when I fumble a hookup this tattoo does make it a lot easier to convince people. So, want to suck my cock, slut?”

“Huh?” That last word woke Jo from her stupor. Kris was talking to her. Something about sucking cock? That sounded amazing. Why wouldn’t she? And there was a big, hard cock right here. She took a furtive glance over at the barwoman, who seemed to be pointedly paying attention to the other side of the room. The booth was blocking anyone else’s view of what exactly had been happening and anyone had wondered why Kris and Jo were standing no one was paying attention now.

When she looked back Kris was sitting down again. A pang of disappointment spread through Jo. She wanted to be able to read the tattoo one last time to reassure herself that she was a slut. But as she pulled out a hair tie, did up a ponytail, and sank to her knees beneath the table, she realised she didn’t need it. She was a slut and she was going to prove it. She was going to give Kris the best blowjob she’d ever had, take her home and then the two of them were going to spend the whole night showing each other how slutty they could be.

As her fingers lips slid over Kris’s cock as she guided it towards her mouth she could feel the slightly raised texture on the skin where those wonderful words sat.

ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀ ꜱʟᴜᴛ