Tarotica Ch. 11

Chapter 11: Justice

The crowned female figure of Justice, depicting Astraea, Goddess of Justice in Greek mythology, is seated between the pillars of positive and negative forces. .. . She does not permit temptation or envy to misguide her.

-Tarot Classic, Stuart R. Kaplan

Harmony. Restoration of balance. Fairness. Maintaining a proper balance. Order restored. Strategy. Powers that enforce justice.

-Tarot: Plain and Simple. Anthony Louis

It was over dinner that we started talking about it. We hadn't been dating that long, but it was long enough – or maybe I'd had wine enough – to forget that there are things that really should not be said – or perhaps only to your best friend or, if you're lucky enough to have one, your soul-mate.

We were out for dinner; the baked salmon was quite good, as was the Chianti, and we ordered our second bottle. We were laughing, and, somehow, the discussion turned to cats – mostly the differences between "cat people" and "dog people." Of course, I was on the feline side of the debate. Rather drunkenly, I admit, I began to enumerate the many wonderful catly traits. "They're so comfortable being who they are," I slurred, "They are the contentest creatures."

"Contentest?" Derek asked.

I nodded. "They have the added virtue of being absolutely beautiful." Derek reached out and touched my cheek, "Like you."

"Thank you, sweetheart," but love-talk was not going to sway me from my conversational purpose, "And they have such gorgeous tails – have you ever seen the tail of a full-bred Maine Coon cat, for instance?"

"Um, no, love," Derek was amused, but getting a bit bored. "You know," I said, taking another sip, "I've always wanted a tail." Derek smiled – his playboy smile, dimples flashing. "You, my dear, have a wonderful tail."

"No, no," I said, laughing, "I mean a real tail – like a cat tail – or a dog tail – wouldn't that be sexy?"

"Um, well, in a word, no. It would just be gross," the playboy smile was gone. "Oh come on," I said, running my fingers lightly up his shirtsleeve, then leaning close to him and tickling his neck. "You don't think dating a girl with a tail – would be the least – bit – sexy?"

"Kristin, you're starting to scare me." Then he smiled, self-assured once more. "You know what this is, don't you?" He picked up his glass, leaned back in his chair. I soaked in the dimples, the wry smile, the wavy hair, and sighed. "What is it, Derek?" He took a long, slow sip before his pronouncement. "It's penis envy."

I leaned back, laughing – well, roaring actually. "Kristin," Derek stage-whispered, "People are staring."

"Oh, honey, that's hilarious," I said, trying not to give up a sow-like snort. "Penis envy? Oh, thank you, Dr. Freud."

"Well, clearly, it is," continued Derek, "Your desire for a tail is really a desire for – well – for the old wedding tackle." I couldn't help it – this time I did snort. "Wedding tackle? Oh Lord, oh Derek, oh stop."

"It's quite clear, Kristin," Derek went on, suddenly straightening, his tone eminently reasonable, "What else could a tail be but a phallic symbol?"

"Derek, dearest, a tail could be lots of things – it can serve as a sort of ballast, for example, when cats climb trees – it can also be a sign of distress, or a sign of affection. ."

"Kristin," Derek interrupted, his voice stern, "You know what I mean – you don't need a ballast," he chuckled – "and you certainly know how to convey affection."

"On the contrary, my dear – there are so so many times when I could use a ballast – and wouldn't it be wonderful to see me when I greet you at the door – my tail raised like a welcoming flag?"

"You're quite mad, Kristin, my love, but you're certainly never boring." I took another lazy sip of wine. I was rather enjoying this game. "And you know what?" I said, "I would just dearly love to have a tail I could hook over my shoulder – you know – I could play with it, rather idly, while reading or doing crossword puzzles."

"Kristin," said Derek, his voice once again mock-stern, "You hate crossword puzzles."

"Well, I know," I said, "But it makes such an interesting picture."

We paid the bill and left, still laughing. We walked through the parking lot, holding hands, and I remarked on how bright it seemed. "It's a full moon, silly," said Derek, then stopped turned me to him, "Full moons are so sexy, aren't they? Make a wish."

"I thought you could only wish on falling stars."

"Not tonight," Derek said, "I proclaim it 'wish on the full moon night.'"

"Okay, then," I laughed, still warmed and loosened from the wine, "I wish I had a tail." Derek laughed, "You crazy bitch. And I wish – hmmm." He paused, pretending to think, "I wish I'd get lucky tonight."

Indeed, both of us got lucky that night – I challenged him to try to fuck me in every room of the house. We started in the kitchen; he took some olive oil from the cupboard and spread it, rather thickly, onto my wooden table. He grabbed me then, stripped me – quickly, anxiously – muttering in my ear the whole time. "I'm going to fuck you, oh yes – I'm going to fuck you – right here – in front of your kitchen window – I hope the neighbors can see." I knew my neighbors. "They'd only be jealous," I giggled. He led me to the table, forced me on to it – I was sitting, my feet off the floor, my legs spread and Derek between them. I could feel the oil under my ass, could feel the table shake – just a little – with my weight. Rather urgently, he unzipped his pants, leaned into me – for just a second, I could feel his hard cock – smooth, long – kissing my thigh – and then he was inside me, fucking me, fucking me hard – I was lying down now, gasping, the oil was on my back, my legs, my ass, my arms. "Oh god, Derek – oh god," I groaned, "Yes – oh god, Fuck me." And so it went. We fucked in the office as I leaned over the desk and my myriad forgotten bills – there, he took me from behind, and I clung happily to the desk's smooth metal top, feeling it cold against oily hands. We fucked in the bathroom – he sat on the toilet, and I sat on top of him, facing him, bouncing, again and again, on his overworked prick. We fucked in the living room, we fucked in the laundry room and finally, rather desperately, we fucked in the bedroom. As we snuggled together, under the covers, exhausted and covered with semen, I whispered, "You know – I think there was something to that moon magic." Derek smiled against my hair. "I told you it would work."

It was the next morning, after Derek had left – I was in the bath, somewhat regretfully washing away that wonderful, barbarous, after-sex smell – when I noticed it. There was a mole – or something – directly above my ass. I felt it press against my skin when I leaned against the porcelain side of the tub. I felt behind me, surprised – I didn't remember a mole just there– and for a minute, I panicked. What the hell, I thought, did Derek give me? I got out of the bath and stood in front of the full-length mirror. I turned around, looked over my shoulder. There was a bump there – not red or irritated-looking, but innocuous, flesh-colored. "What the hell?" I said aloud this time, whispering to myself and the bathroom walls. I felt a strange twinge, a physical shiver – it issued, it seemed, from the bump – "Good God," I whispered again, "I just saw it – it's growing." I felt the shiver of panic again – I couldn't call the doctor – it was Saturday. The emergency room? That seemed both silly and unnecessary – except for a dull brain-ache from the wine the night before, I felt fine. In fact, I felt good – very good. Last night, I thought, and the craziness began to sink into my dully thumping head, Last night – I wished for a tail – Derek wished to get lucky -- the fucking scenes played, slow pornographic movies, inside my head – Good Lord, help me Goddess, I'm growing a tail!

All day, it grew. I wandered through the house, naked, desperately afraid to go out. The thing was smooth, silky, and rather hard – penis-like, I thought, and laughed. By noon-time, it was eight inches long. I found that I could swing it, that I had control of its movements. I found that I had to re-learn how to sit. I found that – when I whacked it against the still-oil kitchen table – it had feelings, nerve endings. By the afternoon, I was more fascinated than frightened – when would it reach its full length? Was it permanent? I experimented, waving it back and forth behind me. I noticed – did this have to do with the circumstances for which it was wished? -- that it felt as if there were – well – sort of sprinkles of sexual feelings dripping down its length. It was a supple, thin tail - not the thicker sort – and I thought, absurdly, Probably would not be a great ballast. By 3:00, it was long enough so that I could lay it flat against my back to reach my neck. By 5:00, it was long enough to curl around my neck – and I could curl it! It was almost prehensile – I practiced gripping things – a pencil, the telephone – it couldn't bear too much weight, and the phone crashed to the floor with an irritated jangle. But smaller things – I could wrap my tail around – could even grip some things. I walked around the house, still naked, looking in all my mirrors, waving my tail, laughing and somehow proud. This, I thought happily to myself, This is better than any old penis. This, I patted it, is justice.

I called Derek – we'd had no real plans; last night, exhausted from the marathon fuck, we had only vaguely hinted at seeing each other. His voice was an audio blur. "Oh hi, Kristin," he was not unhappy to hear from me, "Good God, thanks for last night – I've never – well, jeez, I just don't think I've ever done it that much." I laughed, drew my tail over my shoulder and idly played with it, curling its tip around my finger. "The moon was pretty powerful last night, Derek," I said. "Yes," he still sounded confused and a bit exhausted, "I guess that was it."

"Oh, darling, I know that was it."

"Yes," he answered, still muddled. "Hey," I said, "Come over tonight."

"Okay," he said through the tired, "Um, yeah, I'm not doing anything – I can do that." In the distance, I heard the television – a baseball game. "Great – I have –" almost against my will, my tail rose, its tip turned into a sort of question-mark – in cats, a sign of affection, "I have kind of a surprise for you."

"Great," he said, "but let's not go out, okay?"

"No, sweetie," I laughed, "I have no desire to go out – just a desire to see you."

I had been naked all day, admiring my new appendage in every mirror. For the moment, I'd forgotten how to deal with a tail and the real world. After my phone call to Derek, it had grown again, and I found – to my delight – that I could now tickle my own cunt. But I had to get dressed – where to put it? How does one get dressed – around a tail? Finally, I took an old-ish dress from my closet and cut a hole in the back, guessing as to where appropriate placement would be. It worked, and I giggled at my own ingenuity. The dress was not particularly flattering – it was purple gingham, and longish – but I didn't think that Derek would be disappointed.

At the call of the doorbell, I met Derek on the threshold, trying desperately to hold my tail behind my back – I had to use both hands, and it seemed to have a mind of its own. It kept wanting to curl back up into that question mark shape – that feline sign of affection. Derek walked in, a bottle of wine under one arm. He chuckled, "I thought you might want some hair of the dog." Under the circumstances, this struck me as both hilarious and appropriate, and I tried not to laugh-snort again. "What the devil," Derek said, "Are you hiding behind your back?" I let it go – there it was – the question mark – forming over my shoulder. Derek walked in, walked around me, his mouth open, but laughing a little, "Where did you get that? It looks real."

"It grew," I responded, "It is real." Derek laughed again, "You crazy bitch." I swung my tail around in a small gesture of huff, "I've heard that before."

I turned toward the kitchen, taking the wine, swinging my divine tail – in a way I hoped was sexy – behind me. "You know that wish last night?" I asked casually, "No," Derek said, "It can't be true – things like that don't happen." He followed me into the kitchen as I opened the bottle and poured the wine. I felt a sudden twinge from behind – I squealed and looked around. Derek was pulling my tail, feeling it – "Oh, sweetie – that feels good.' And it did – the sexual tingle that surged in my new appendage only increased with his nervous caress. "It can't be – Kristin – please stop playing with me," and then, in the next breath, "Do you think it's permanent?" I walked to the couch and sat, flipping my tail over one shoulder. I could see it writhe a little, again, almost on its own – "I'm not really worried about that yet – I guess I should be – but really Derek, I feel great." I stood up and undressed, "Wow – clothes are so uncomfortable now." I smiled, feeling – and probably looking – devilish. "Come here." Derek drained his glass in one gulp and stumbled over to the couch, his eyes fixed on the tail.

He sat down next to me. "Watch," I giggled, and, with my tail, began to stroke my own breasts. I leaned back, moaning, enjoying the touch and Derek's wide-eyed amazement. He leaned into me, watching, awestruck and curious. "Hey," he said, "Can you touch your cunt?"

"I can," I responded, and did so, pushing the tip just a little through the flowery walls. "Wow," Derek breathed, "You can fuck yourself."

"I think, sweetheart," I said, leaning over and kissing his neck, "I would rather fuck you – you can't believe how horny having a tail makes one feel . ."

I opened his shirt, unclasping the buttons with my hands but tickling his arms with my tail, alternating back and forth – right arm, left arm, right arm, left arm. Derek moaned and closed his eyes. I helped him shed his clothes – his shirt from his chest, his pants from his muscled thighs. We lay on the couch, the tail and I on top. Sure, it was bizarre – but Derek was excited. His cock was pushing forward, harder, I thought, than I had ever seen it. It wavered in the air, searching, poking at nothing. My tail curled up against my back, and then, almost without my will, it was stroking him – a light touch on his face, a light touch on his lips, a light tracing down his chest, a light tracing up and down his thighs. I kissed him while my tail worked, and began to pinch his nipples. Derek groaned, and when he spoke, his voice seemed far away, "Oh, God, Kristin, oh God. ." He twisted a little on the couch, his head moving back and forth, his eyes closed, his mouth open. My tongue worked his nipples, my hands moved down to his cock, my tail continued its torturous tickling – then it, too, wrapped itself around his now fully engorged dick and Derek groaned. Then, almost violently, he pushed me off his chest, pulled me under him. "Ouch, watch the tail," I mumbled, as his weight bore down on me and my new appendage crushed into the couch. "Oh, that tail," he mumbled, and then, "I'm going to fuck you, you crazy bitch – you crazy freak," he was serious but smiling, and I said, "It's not so gross, is it?"

"Gross? God no."

He fucked me hard, my back banging on the couch arm, my tail over my shoulder, swinging back and forth, in rhythm with his thrusts. "Touch yourself with it," he whispered, and I did so, tickling my own nipples as he pumped ever more deeply inside me. "God, oh god," he whispered, and lay fully on my chest. My tail trailed over his back, and I could see the goose bumps rising in its rather frenzied path. With that wonderful, crazy tail, I moved down his back, down to his ass, tickling the tender spot between his cheeks. "Kristin – I'm coming," he gasped, and so he did, and I could feel the luscious spurt so far inside me – I swear I could feel it running down my tail. "Is it hollow?" I whispered. Derek lifted himself from me, "What?"

"Nothing, sweetie – I think we could both use a glass of wine." Derek nodded, and I saw the tiny sweat-beads that had formed on his forehead, saw the cherry-red of his cheeks. He got up and returned with two glasses, both full to brimming. We sipped, and, for a minute, nothing was said.

"Kristin," Derek asked at last, and, as he turned to me, began to caress the tail. "What are you going to do about practical things – about work? Or getting dressed?" I took a thoughtful sip, "I don't know – and for now – for some reason – I just really don't care." The tail whipped around and, as if it needed rest, curled itself around my neck. I enjoyed the feel – it was soft, fleshy, and rather tickling. "A full moon wish," Derek muttered, and took another sip of wine, "I wonder if – I wonder if it would be effective – if I wished again."

"And what would you wish, Derek?" hoping that he wasn't going to dissolve my tail in his next whispered words – I had, after all, grown rather – well – rather attached to it. "I wish you would masturbate for me – with your tail – I want to see it." He put his wine down, leaned against me, pinched my nipples. I laughed and leaned back. My tail moved upright – then, leisurely, worked its way down to my clit, down to my cunt. I traced my lips with it, then began to rub it against my clit, wondering at the sensation that ran, electric sparks, between the now-reddened button and the tail. I closed my eyes and laughed, feeling suddenly happy, and suddenly free. And not the least bit envious.