Best Lesbian Erotica 2007 (6 page)

Now look, I might be young, but I’m not fucking stupid, you know? Sure, I get teased all the time by superior femmes like Annie, and I become brainless at the thought of solving riddles or thinking logically. It’s easy for me to let people think I’m a sweet butch who’d rather swing a wrench than fiddle with a pressure cooker. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s women. I’ve been learning my entire life.

So I’ll tell you this much: every time Jamie looked up and we glanced at one another I could see there was a certain purpose to her. Not just in her eyes, but in the way she brushed the copper from her forehead; the two open buttons of her crisp, starched shirt; and the way her hands touched herself, slightly self-consciously.

She wanted me for something. And I was pretty sure I knew the extent of her motives.

Jamie made the flimsy excuse of ordering a drink from the bar for a friend to come and speak to me again. At the end of the night, when the bar was almost empty, she came up to pay the tab. I told her it wasn’t a tab, it was one drink; she insisted.

She paid with a twenty pound note, which was completely over the limit of what she needed to cover. She was gone before I could give her any change. But she’d written her room number on a hotel serviette. It lay open on the counter, daring me.

Maybe Annie’d been wrong. Maybe Jamie was alone. And it’s true—I can be morally inept if I choose to be.

So, soon enough, there I was, standing in front of room 27. I lifted my hand and knocked, short and sharp, twice. I waited. Tried to listen for any kind of distinctive sound, but there was none.

The door opened and Jamie stood inside, looking me over. “Hi,” I said nonchalantly.

“Nice to see you…”

“Kyle.”

“Come in.” She closed the door. I was infinitely aware of her presence behind me. I’ll admit, I expected her to touch me, but she didn’t.

The room was a moderate temperature; comfortable and relaxed. I noticed the big king-size bed in the far corner had been turned down. With relief I realized there wasn’t any music playing in the background.

“Would you like a drink?” Jamie’s accent was more prevalent now. Her voice was laced with thick arousal. I heard her move behind me, then she stepped past and headed for the minibar.

“Actually—” I stopped when I saw the other woman step out of the bathroom. She was wearing jeans, heavy black boots and a wifebeater that accentuated her small breasts and flat stomach.

“Hi,” she said in a gravelly voice, and smiled. “I’m Nicole.”

As if by some form of sexual voodoo, the atmosphere suddenly crisped white-hot with eroticism. I looked over to where Jamie had started undressing by the edge of the bed. She was slowly undoing the buttons of her cotton shirt. I noticed with no small amount of satisfaction that the freckles repeated themselves between the cleft of her breasts. She was wearing a white bra and panties.

Jamie said, “Kiss her,” and for a moment I wasn’t sure who she’d said it to, or even if I’d heard her correctly. Then I felt Nicole step up behind me, her masculine presence heavy, and for a moment my body tensed.

I’d never fucked another butch. Maybe because of that, the coil of lust that started in my belly and slithered due south made me groan when I felt her hands, solid and firm from behind, on my hips.

I turned around and looked at her, knowing that Jamie, already naked, was looking at us. Nicole had a silver ring through the right of her bottom lip, and her left eyebrow had been pierced several times. Black, oily tattoos crept out from beneath her vest and veined down her muscular arms. Dangerous, distracting silver decorated all but the thumbs of her two hands.

I placed my hands on Nicole’s forearms and felt the coiled tension there. I pulled her closer, just like that, and kissed her, tasting the tang of metallic as the silver ring slid against my tongue.

No matter how tough and rugged she might have looked, Nicole kissed like a woman. Don’t get me wrong; she was as hungry as I was. Her tongue stroked mine slowly, probing keenly in a most exquisite way. The air in her mouth was hot. I felt her fingers waver near the waist of my black pants.

She pulled back, both of us breathing hard. All in all, the kiss had been a little demanding, but nothing too violent. As I looked into Nicole’s gray-blue eyes I knew that it wouldn’t be the two of us ending up in bed together. That wasn’t the plan.

She stepped back from me then. We both looked at Jamie, who was lying on the bed, naked, looking back at us. No one said a word. I was ready to fuck her if they asked me.

Nicole tapped a cigarette from an open box on the table and lit it. She drew in deep and expelled a column of smoke. “Don’t get undressed,” she said to me and pointed at a chair next to the side of the bed. “That’s your place. Don’t forget it.” She winked at me. Some sublime form of butch code passed between us.

As I sat down, one leg resting in a
T
across my knee, Nicole pulled her vest off and tossed it into a corner. Both Jamie and I watched as she unbuttoned the heavy buttons on her black cargos, the cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. The sound of the metallic buttons popping was followed by someone exhaling loudly—me, I realized. For an instant I felt as if it was me standing there. I realized my hands were grasping the chair. It took everything I had not to stand up and walk over to the bed.

Nicole stepped closer and held her half-smoked cigarette out to me. I took it, grateful for something to put in my mouth, and watched her strut over to the bed. I glimpsed a broad, black studded belt above the waistline of her pants.
That’s a good-looking piece of leather
. Her crotch bulged fetchingly as she climbed onto the bed and crawled over Jamie like a snake. The bed creaked prettily.

Nicole and Jamie kissed, hard, and when I saw Nicole’s tongue—which had moments before been in my own mouth—slip past her lover’s lips a small sound of satisfaction escaped from Jamie’s throat.

My senses began their slow but certain dip into overload. My groin was on fire. I heard the smooth
shhhk
as one of Jamie’s legs moved against Nicole’s clothed thigh and her heel hooked around the inside of Nicole’s knee.

They were making the stimulated sounds of lovers flushed with arousal, and there I was, not four feet away, watching them. Nicole moved her mouth down. When her tongue flicked lewdly before taking Jamie’s erect nipple into her mouth, I heard a moan. Involuntarily, I followed with one of my own, short and tight.

Nicole’s hand moved down between her legs, and disappeared inside her cargos. When she brought it back out she held at least eight inches of dyke cock in her hand. I grunted at the sight of it; not because I wanted it in me, but because I wished I was Nicole.

Nicole turned her head and looked at me, smiling as Jamie reached down to take the cock in her hand. I was having a hard time taking my eyes off Jamie’s hips as they rose eagerly from the mattress. Nicole put one of her big, decorated hands on Jamie’s hip and held her down, making the muscles beneath the skin of her taut belly move.

“Fuck her,” I snarled, quite unrepentantly, only then realizing how my jaw muscles were clenching. Nicole leaned forward
and in one admirably executed move thrust herself into Jamie with a harsh grunt.

I sat and watched, rapt.

At first Nicole was nice and easy. She allowed Jamie to move up to meet her as she kept a fixed tempo. Every so often Jamie would make encouraging sounds, or those of pleasure when Nicole’s cock hit the right spot. I watched the tattoos on the butch girl’s back as they moved and undulated to the syncopated rhythm of that one weak spot in the mattress. At one point they both looked over to where I was sitting, their movements never faltering, their attention fixed on me. I felt my hand move down to my crotch.

Nicole began to fuck Jamie harder then, no doubt partly due to the fact that I seemed to have found my tongue and was egging her on. She was strong and held Jamie down, fucking her into the mattress while I implored her with rude remarks; ones I realized I’d wanted to say ever since Jamie had the balls to call me “lassie.” I wanted to screw Jamie myself…but I knew the magic would end, the spell would be broken if I dared move from that chair an inch. All I could do was grind my teeth and cross my legs while watching the two of them on the bed.

When they were done, Jamie and Nicole fell against one another, kissing like longtime lovers. I wondered at that. Nicole couldn’t have been older than myself. Maybe even younger. The idea that they had been in a relationship for some time was perversely thrilling.

I got up weakly to leave when Nicole went into the bathroom. The sound of a tap being opened brought reality back in full swing. Jamie, naked, stopped me when I was halfway to the door. “Thanks for coming,” she said and laughed, realizing her pun. She patted and squeezed my ass before disappearing inside the bathroom just as Nicole came out. She walked me to the door.

I reached out to turn the knob but Nicole stopped me. Grabbing my wrist, she shoved my hand inside her cargos. Her clit was hard. I knew what she wanted.

I stroked her, stiff and rough. It was strange but thrilling to hear the low obscenities of another butch in my ear. My coccyx tingled with newfound lust.

It didn’t take long for her to come. I didn’t know whether Jamie was aware of what we were doing. Nicole pushed me against the door, grinding her hips against mine, and came with a cry of release still stuck inside her throat. I fumbled for the doorknob and fell out into the hallway. The door banged shut loudly behind me. For a moment I just stood there, flushed and getting my bearings back. When I checked my watch I saw that it was almost two in the morning. Too late to catch the Tube. Too late for a bus. Dammit. I should have asked for cab money.

Sacchi Green

 

 

 

 

 

Maura lounged against the railing, gazing out over the vast, bright gulf of stone dropping away at her feet. Dark sunglasses masked her green eyes, and those famous waves of long chestnut hair were tied down by an Hermès scarf rippling in the breeze.

“Are you trying to tell me all this was carved by that little trickle of a river?” In spite of her studied nonchalance, I could tell she was as awestruck as any other tourist.

“The Colorado’s wider than it looks from this distance. And it was carrying billions of grains of rasping sand over millions of years.” I didn’t look toward the river at all, gazing only at Maura’s slim, vivid form. The view of the Grand Canyon from Mather Point had gripped me often enough over the years, and I had photographed it for many a magazine and guidebook, but long ago I’d come to terms with the inability of the human mind to fully comprehend its grandeur.

Comprehending Maura, however, might still be within my grasp. A year ago I had discovered how to penetrate her dark and bright complexities, to push her mind and body to the edges where she needed so desperately to balance. A year ago—and then came her first starring movie role, with filming on location in various exotic areas around the world. We’d only been able to meet sporadically, except when she’d insisted they hire me to do the still photos for publicity.

Did I even know who she was anymore? When I’d picked her up at the Flagstaff airport she’d greeted me with a Hollywood air kiss, nothing to raise eyebrows even when directed by a drop-dead gorgeous twentysomething toward an aging, crop-haired butch like me. Then she’d dozed for most of the three-hour drive across the high desert. But at least she was here, as promised, keeping the date we’d made all those months ago.

I moved up close behind her at the railing, not quite touching. The April wind tugged several strands of hair free from her scarf and lashed them across my face and chest, rousing a tingle in my nipples just as though they were naked to those flailing whips of silk.

“Hey Roby,” Maura said, without turning her head. “Too bad you don’t have the balls to fuck me right here.”

Oh yeah. I still knew exactly who she was. “If you’d had the foresight to wear a skirt,” I told her, “you’d be bent over that railing right now praying you could hold on long enough to ride my fist to glory.” I pressed closer and reached around to unzip the fly of her elegantly cut jeans. “You could still
drop your trousers and make all these amateur photographers rich on sales to the tabloids. Or you can let it simmer awhile, and I’ll fuck you somewhere even better.”

I could see out of the corner of my eye that we’d begun to distract a few tourists, most, of course, armed with cameras. Maura, even in scarf and sunglasses and denim, has the charisma of someone whose face could stare out at you with seductive arrogance from the pages of a fashion magazine. Whose face has, in fact, done exactly that, usually with the divinely sensuous participation of her body. More often than not the eye behind the camera had been mine, back before she moved on from the pinnacle of the modeling scene to her virgin attempt at acting.

“Don’t they say that no publicity is bad publicity?” Maura turned toward me. I reached out to untie her scarf and remove her sunglasses, tucking them away in the pocket of my leather jacket. The old challenge was in her eyes.
Push me
, it said.
Force me to the edge
.
Make me feel.

“So you don’t think your acting can stand on its own,” I asked, wrapping strands of her windblown hair tightly around my fingers, “without the scandal of getting thrown out of a national park before the movie even opens?”

She caught at my hands. I released her hair. “Maybe I’ll give you a chance to show me somewhere you think is even better,” she said, and headed back toward the car. I waited just long enough to appreciate the elegant undulation of her hips in tight jeans before I caught up.

Maura wasn’t primarily an exhibitionist, in spite of her place in the public eye. Or possibly because of it. Her craving for danger was more complex than that. There had been times, once I had come to understand what my weathered skin and scarred body said to her, when she had begged me to mark the face the world saw so that it would become her own again. What she thought she wanted from me had nothing to do with tenderness. Still, whether she was aware of it or not, she needed something else from me, as well.
Push me right up to the edge
, her fierce eyes demanded, while a tiny tremor at the corner of her soft lips added,
but don’t let me fall
.