The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica (22 page)

She introduced me to the poetry of Christina Rossetti and, even more appropriately, Sappho. The hypnotic words of the lesbian poet invaded my dreams, causing me to wake in a fever of lust, my
fingers between my thighs massaging my clit even as I slept. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest when she walked through the door of the library two weeks later.

“Sappho get you hot?” she asked, settling in the chair across from me, her suede dress the colour of chocolate, her thick, curly hair wrapped in a bun at the nape of her neck.

I didn’t answer. She stood up and took my hand. I resisted a moment, but at her insistent tug I followed her across the wing of the library to the bathrooms in the corner. She pulled me
into a stall. Once inside, she slid the lock home and pushed me down on the lid of the toilet. She pulled her dress up and tugged her black panties to the side.

Within moments, my mouth was pressed to her bare cunt, sucking her as hard as I’d ever dreamed of sucking her.

“Oh, baby, that’s it,” she moaned, her voice soft and urgent. “You must have really liked Sappho.”

Her sarcasm drove me on. I plunged a finger in her cunt and rubbed her G-spot roughly while I nipped her clit between my teeth, sucking it out, letting it go, sucking it back. Soon, she could
barely breathe, much less talk. I jerked my jeans open and shoved my hand down my panties, rubbing my clit as roughly as I was sucking hers.

She came on my tongue in a gush of fluid that I lapped gently while I shuddered through my own orgasm.

The bathroom door opened and someone entered. We adjusted ourselves quietly, then she slipped out while I waited for the other woman to finish up. By the time I escaped the bathroom, Zoe was
gone.

As we got near the end of the alphabet, I wondered what she would find for X and Z. I figured something by Malcolm X, but it didn’t seem like her. I was right. Instead, she presented me
with a fascinating little book called
There’s a Whip in my Valise
by Greta X. I smirked, wondering if Zoe was trying to tell me something. I flipped to the back of the book, where the
library’s stamp should be. It was blank.

I looked up at her. “This didn’t come from the library.”

“I’ll donate my copy when you’re done with it.”

She left me soaked. So did the book.

Y was a vampire tale by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro. I stayed up all night to finish it, I liked it that much. I’m still working on reading the others in the series.

When I returned the Yarbro, I found Zoe sitting in my chair for a change. The library was quiet that day, very few patrons perused the aisles. Maybe it was the weather, dark and unusually chilly
for March in Florida. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. When she beckoned to me and smiled, I didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought. I settled on her knee, my head resting
against her shoulder. She was wearing blue today, and I remembered this was the same dress she’d been wearing the first day I’d met her. I felt the softness of her breast pressing into
my side and I ached to cup it, stroke it.

“You liked Yarbro,” she said.

I nodded against the top of her head. “Yeah. I liked it a lot.”

She turned her head so that her mouth was against my neck. Instead of pulling away, I arched my neck. She nipped lightly at the stretched tendon, then pressed a wet kiss to my skin. “I
want to fuck you right here,” she said, louder than a whisper. I didn’t care. I wanted the exact same thing.

This time, it was me pulling her toward the bathroom. I don’t think the librarians noticed, but I would have knocked anyone who tried to stop us on their ass. I pulled Zoe into a stall,
pushed her down on the seat and dry humped her thigh until I came with a whimper. When I tried to get under her skirt, she shook her head and pushed me off. “Not today.”

We left the bathroom and the library. My heart thudded dully in my chest, partly from the after effects of the powerful orgasm I’d just had and partly in fear. Something felt different
between us, something had changed.

I expected her to say something when we got to my car, but she didn’t. Instead, she handed me a book. I knew this was Z. I was curious what she’d chosen, but at the moment I was more
interested in the strange expression on her face. I saw a vulnerability I’d never seen before. It frightened me.

She turned and walked away without a word. I looked at the book in my hands. It wasn’t a book from the library, it was a journal. Zoe’s journal. I flipped to the first page and saw
that Z was for Zoe Zimmerman and the date of the first entry was the day we’d met, just over a year ago.

Hot tears pricked my eyes even while wetness trickled down my thighs from my earlier orgasm. I read the book that night, cover to cover, then I stayed home from work the next day and read it
again. Zoe wrote about herself, us, the books, the sex. It was the best of the books she’d given me.

I waited at the library two weeks later, but she never showed. Somehow I knew she wouldn’t. I never saw her again at the library. Our alphabet game had come to an end. Still, I held out
hope for five months that one day she’d stroll into the library and give me that little knowing smile. I stopped by more often and I even got a library card. She’d made me hunger for
books as much as her body. I applied for a job as a library assistant and got it; I quit my waitressing job and enrolled in Broward Community College. I’d waited almost to the deadline to
enroll, so when I finally got around to picking my classes, the only literature class left was something called “English: Special Topic.” I signed up, figuring what the hell.

The first day of class I walked in to the full classroom and took a seat at the back. The instructor strode in several minutes later in a puff of lavender silk. She scrawled her name and the
title of the class on the board. When she turned around, she saw me toward the back. There was a moment of startled recognition and then she grinned. I grinned back.

On the board, she’d written: Zoe Zimmerman, Women’s Literature, A to Z.

I was pretty sure I was going to get both an A and a Z out of the class. After all I’d already completed the reading list.

Women at Work

Lynn Lake

Cherry Feliz dusted the door with her knuckles.

“What!?” the impatient voice of Nan Stewart came from within.

Cherry pushed the door open, stuck her head into the large, tastefully-appointed office. “Ms Stewart, I’m Cherry, from the payroll department, and—”

“It can wait!” Nan stated, waving a dismissive hand. She slammed a briefcase shut and stood up behind her huge expanse of mahogany desk. “Make an appointment to see me next
week or something. Right now, I’ve got a date with a drink and a boat.”

Cherry slipped inside the office, quietly closing the door and walking over to Nan’s desk. “What I have to say won’t wait until next week.”

Nan looked up, her clear, blue eyes flashing angrily. She swatted a dangling strand of glossy blonde hair aside and demanded, “Just who do you think—?”

“I want to talk to you about the irregularities I’ve found on your expense claim forms.” Cherry placed a file on the gleaming top of Nan’s desk.

Nan swept it away. “Get out of my office! Now!”

Cherry didn’t blink, big brown eyes locked on Nan’s. “Part of my job is to enter all the executives expense claim forms into the system. Usually I only get totals for yours,
but a while back I received a number of detailed forms. And I’ve been reviewing them, and I’ve found a number of irregularities. For instance—”

Nan banged a hand down on her briefcase. The office went quiet. She took a deep breath, large breasts straining the rich silk of her white blouse. “My expense reports are reviewed and
signed by Mr Fielder, Chairman of the Board. No one else is allowed to see them. Now get out of here and consider yourself lucky to still have a job on Monday.”

“Well, I guess Mr Fielder doesn’t look at them too closely -being pretty old and all,” Cherry persisted, tucking her shimmering, brown hair in behind her ears. She rubbed her
tiny hands on the sides of her short, black skirt, licked her crimson lips. “Because you’re missing a bunch of meal receipts from your trip to New York – expensive meals. And you
filed a mileage claim for the trip when a plane would have been a lot cheaper.”

Nan glared at the young woman, silver fingernails biting into the leather of her briefcase.

“And for your trip to Miami, you submitted all the receipts okay. But you’ve included expenses for some woman who, as far as I can tell, doesn’t even work for the
company.”

Nan moved swiftly around her desk, slender, silk-sheathed legs whispering lethal. She was beside Cherry in an instant, looking down at the smaller woman from the end of her aristocratic nose.
“Consider yourself terminated, effective immediately!”

Cherry looked up into the older woman’s angry face. “And you were reimbursed for a trip to Mexico, even though the company doesn’t do any—”

Nan slapped the girl across the face, the hot crack of flesh against flesh exploding obscenely inside the hushed, dignified confines of the business office.

Cherry touched her cheek, crimson finger polish flashing under the lights, diamond spider brooch on her scarlet top rising and falling in rhythm to her small breasts. “Even though the
company doesn’t do any business in—”

Nan slapped her again, even harder this time. Cherry’s head jerked to the side, hair flying. She slowly brought her head back around, cheek burning, quiet smile on her pouty lips. Then she
shot her hand up, as if to smack the CEO full in the face.

Nan staggered backwards on her spike heels, in fright and in realization that this was a girl to be reckoned with. Her face went deathly pale, her eyes wide. “W-what do you want?”
she stammered.

“Bitch!” Cherry hissed, fists clenched with the effort to hold back, body quivering. “You think you can get away with anything! Treat this company and its employees like you
own them!”

“N-no, that’s not true,” Nan gasped, staring into the girl’s burning eyes. “I’11-I’ll . . . treat you right.”

“Too late,” Cherry sneered. “Once I turn over what I’ve found to the Board of Directors, and the District Attorney, all your future expenses are going to be the
State’s responsibility.”

Nan suddenly sagged to her knees, grabbing onto Cherry’s skirt. She hugged Cherry’s legs, pressing her face against the girl’s brown, muscled thighs. “No-no, you
don’t want to do that,” she whimpered.

Cherry looked down at the woman’s bowed, blonde head, and laughed. “Why not?”

Nan jerked her head up, the shrewd businesswoman quickly conjuring up some tears, blinking them away so that they rolled down and over her high, haughty cheekbones, setting her mascara to
running. “I’ll give you whatever you want,” she gushed, searching Cherry’s eyes.

Cherry felt Nan’s sharp fingernails digging into her plump buttocks, Nan’s hot breath steaming against her skirt, pussy-level. She didn’t say a word, even as the kneeling woman
slowly unhooked her skirt with trembling fingers.

When Cherry made no move to stop her, Nan pulled the girl’s skirt down, lifted her high heels out of the puddled garment. Then she ran her now tearless eyes up Cherry’s gleaming,
golden legs, to the tiny wet spot staining the red satin panties. “I know what you want,” she breathed, inwardly and outwardly smiling. “And I know just how to give it to
you.”

Cherry grabbed Nan by the back of her $200 hairdo, jerking the woman’s face up to meet her fiery eyes. “You think that’s all there is to it?” she rasped.

“No, no!” Nan responded, sliding her hands up the back of Cherry’s legs. “I’ll make you my personal assistant – at any salary you name. And you’ll go on
all those trips with me from now on. Just you and me.”

Nan’s lips curled into a sly smile, as she brushed her fingers over the vulnerable backs of Cherry’s knees, waiting for an answer. And when the girl’s bare, bronze stems
buckled, she had her answer. She moved her hands up and over the warm, firm swells of Cherry’s buttocks, fingers sliding in under the girl’s panties, nails biting into the soft, thick
flesh there.

Cherry shivered, her body, her pussy surging with heat and moisture, tingling with the other woman’s touch. She looked down into Nan’s glittering eyes looking up at her. And the
woman quickly brought her head in between Cherry’s legs, lips bumping into the growing wet spot on the girl’s panties, kissing it.

Cherry shuddered, Nan’s tongue lunging out, licking the slick material that clung to her damp pussy. Nan tongue-stroked Cherry all the way from the narrow crotch in between her legs up to
her waistband, over and over, long and hard. She painted the satin mound with her wet, dragging tongue, drinking in the intoxicating scent of the girl, reveling in it.

“You’ll get what you want,” she murmured. “And you’ll forget all about those fraudulent expense reports, won’t you?”

Cherry yanked the woman’s head away from her sodden panties. Nan stared up at her, tongue hanging out. “Don’t take anything for granted, bitch!” Cherry warned.

Nan smiled. Then she shook Cherry’s hands free and pulled the girl’s panties down. She gripped Cherry’s clenched butt cheeks and without hesitation stuck her face into the
damp, dark jungle of the girl’s pussy.

“Oh!” Cherry yelped.

Nan dug her tongue into the girl’s thatch, finding pussy lips and licking them. She lapped at Cherry’s hairy snatch.

“Mmm!” Cherry moaned, little body vibrating, hands riding Nan’s bobbing blonde head.

Nan licked and licked the girl’s juicy slit, tasting, teasing, tonguing. Then she released Cherry’s buttocks and dove her fingers into Cherry’s fur, spreading the girl’s
pussy open. Wet, shiny pink was exposed, and Nan blew on it. Cherry jerked. Nan slurped the pink, chewed on the succulent cunt meat. Then she hardened her tongue into a blade and jabbed it into
Cherry’s opening, fucking the girl with her tongue. Cherry groaned with delight.

Nan withdrew her tongue and popped Cherry’s swollen, cotton-candy clit out into the open with her fingers, jammed three more fingers deep into the girl’s slit. She flogged
Cherry’s button with her tongue, fucked Cherry’s twat with her fingers. Cherry clawed at Nan’s hair, her body jumping, wet, wicked, unstoppable orgasm rising up from her
worked-over pussy and engulfing her.