Lesbian Lust Page 4

  You glance in the rearview mirror. No lights. No SHELL sign. In the darkness, you can’t even see the outline of the building.

  Maybe it’s not there. Maybe it never was.

  You touch the unfamiliar bandana that’s still looped around your neck.

  Or maybe, you think, next week at this time you’ll be driving home, and you’ll need to fill up your gas tank somewhere between Marlette and Imlay City. And maybe that beautiful bartender will have a wooden paddle and handcuffs somewhere behind the bar. And if you have to wait and watch until it’s your turn, well, that’ll be just fine.

  You drive on, smiling.

  SWOLLEN

  Rachel Kramer Bussel

  I smiled to myself, cupping my extended belly as I boarded the plane for my flight from JFK to Oahu, grateful that I’d made the cutoff by a few weeks for pregnant women to safely fly. I needed a break, and the bleak New York winter was taking its toll on both my body and mind. Part of me still couldn’t believe that I was pregnant, due to a misguided threesome with my ex, Lauren, and some guy she’d picked up for the night. I had taken part mostly to be close to her, and somehow, I was the one who wound up pregnant even though I consider myself as close to 100-percent dyke as possible. Ah, the things we do for love… She had wanted to watch me with him.

  When I found out, I knew immediately I wanted to keep the baby, but Lauren wasn’t so sure—about the baby, or me. She and I tried to work things out, but she wasn’t ready to become a mom, and surprising even to me I was. I was firm about that from the start even though I couldn’t totally articulate why.

  I’ve never regretted my decision, though for the next five months it meant that I was climbing-the-walls horny all the time and had to rely on my trusty collection of vibrators. I’m a huge fan of sex toys, but I missed the companionship of a woman, someone who’d stroke me all over, who’d coax forth my orgasm like she needed me to come to save her life. Someone who’d kiss and lick and whisper to me, who’d make me feel beautiful when I was starting to truly doubt I ever would again. But it’s hard enough to meet women, for me, anyway, let alone do so with a rapidly expanding belly, so I’d pretty much given up on dating. This was my last hurrah, a final chance to have fun and bask in the sun and surf. I picked Hawaii both for the distance and because I’d heard it was beautiful. Not that I planned to lie outside all day, but a little sun, some nonalcoholic fruity drinks, a chance to walk around in as little clothing as possible and bask in my pregnant belly without a care in the world, sounded like just what I needed.

  Much as I wouldn’t have picked this as the prime time to have the most explosive sex of my life, neither would I have picked Katherine as the woman to have it with. She certainly didn’t look like any kind of wild sexual animal when she checked me into the hotel. “You’ll be in Room One-Oh-Five, Ms. Locke,” she said, giving me a sweet, simple smile. She was small-boned, petite, with brown hair that simply hung in a straight line, not the stick-straight of someone who deliberately straightens her hair, but a natural sheath. There was no hint of flirtation when she looked at me, and it’s only in looking back that I can recall the hand placed on my back, the simple, “If there’s anything at all you need while you’re here, feel free to ask.”

  But isn’t that what anyone working in a hotel would say to any guest? I found out later, at three in the morning when the bath I’d drawn had simply failed to ease the aches all over my body, when she said “anything,” she meant it. I’d brought a vibrator, and I slipped under the soft, high-thread-count covers, grateful I’d chosen a luxury hotel rather than trying to save money. But even the vibe didn’t do more than bring me temporary relief. I was antsy, so I threw on the plush white robe the hotel had kindly provided, along with my own fuzzy bunny slippers, and padded my way out into the hall. I wasn’t really sure where I was going, and the still silence of the place stopped me in my tracks. New York City is never truly silent; there’s always a faint rumbling of the train or cars, or late-night party animals whooping it up. The silence made me also stop and notice the delicate blue-and-yellow-flowered wallpaper. I traced my fingers over it lightly as I headed down the hall, toward a light outside.

  And there was Katherine. She looked more delicate out of her uniform, wearing a simple black robe that covered her but was sheer enough to show the outline of her body. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was reading under a lamp by the pool. “Hi,” I said shyly as she looked up at me. Her face lit up and she motioned for me to come sit.

  “Are we supposed to be out here?” I asked, enjoying the warm night air and the peaceful pool next to us, the ocean not far away.

  “Sweetheart, we can do whatever we want,” she said gently. Did I detect a hint of mischief in her voice? I thought so. She settled me onto the lounge chair she’d just been sitting on, then lowered it down. I’d found the sun too hot for me when I first arrived—maybe it was the weight from the pregnancy—but the evening air felt far more refreshing.

  “Would you like a massage?” I wasn’t sure if she was asking me on a professional or personal basis. I’d become so used to being on my own that having this hushed conversation felt strange, like we were breaking some kind of rule, though I couldn’t really think of any we’d actually transgressed—so far. It was then that I saw the tattoo on her wrist, the one thing that seemed to set her apart. It was a purple heart, cracked in half, the jagged inner edges captivating; I wondered why she’d want to commemorate heartbreak. We hadn’t talked all that much, but once her hands settled onto my neck, I felt totally at ease. So much so that tears started to fill my eyes as her knuckles dug into me. It had been so long since I’d been really, truly touched; I got lots of friendly smiles and gallant gestures, like people letting me cut lines or take their seats on the subway, or others wanting to touch my newly sprouted belly, but real intimacy had been scarce since I heard the news. My parents had pretty much said I was on my own, though I was sure they’d change their minds, and at work I was putting in extra hours to try to prove myself worthy.

  All of it had clearly taken its toll, and being in such a beautiful setting, stealing this time out of the night, with a woman’s strong hands calling out to me, was just too much. Katherine didn’t say anything, she just let the tears roll down my face as soft sobs traveled through me, her hands a constant on my skin. Eventually, she leaned down and brushed her lips against my neck, so gently I almost didn’t realize she’d done it. But then she did it again, this time nipping my skin gently with her teeth. Her lips were saying, “I want you.” It had been so long since anyone had even hinted at wanting me, I wasn’t sure what to do.

  “I—” I started to say, but she cut me off.

  “Let me take care of you tonight. For the rest of your stay… you look like you could use some TLC. And, if you ask me, you also look absolutely beautiful,” she whispered in my ear.

  “Do you really think so?” I needed her reassurance, needed her to make me feel beautiful again.

  “Oh, yes, and I’m going to prove it to you. Come with me,” she murmured, pulling me along with her. If any guests had glanced out their window, they’d have seen one woman in a see-through black robe pulling another one with a big belly along behind her, though I was glad to follow. I purposefully didn’t let myself think too much about what we were doing. I was excited, a little nervous, a lot in awe. I wasn’t quite horny, though. Yet. That would come soon. Katherine guided me to a suite, one much fancier than mine and fancier than I’d have expected a worker’s quarters to be. She must be someone special around here.

  We walked in and she guided me to the bed, opening the blinds just enough to let in a sliver of moonlight. “Lie back, and let me take care of you,” she repeated. And then she proceeded to show me just how beautiful she found me. This wasn’t about falling in love or getting to know each other, about observing each nuance of body language, memorizing every detail. Well, maybe it was for Katherine. As for me, I sank back against the luxurious pile of pillows and allowed her tongue to transport me. She had started again at my neck, with kisses and licks that made me squirm, and then she moved down to my breasts. They were heavy and tender, sensitive already, but under her touch they sprang to life, returning to their former glory as she turned my nipples into beady jewels atop my large breasts. She tugged one between her teeth while twisting the other, reminding me how I used to get off on extreme nipple play with clamps. That seemed like another lifetime, but my pussy responded as Katherine’s mouth and fingers respectively teased my nipples.

  She could tell just what she was doing to me, and we both knew it. “Relax, Bea, relax,” she urged me. I hadn’t realized I’d been at all tense or uncertain until she said it. Of course I’d thought I was relaxed as I lay naked on the bed, my pregnant belly rising upward, somehow no longer heavy and uncomfortable, as a beautiful woman coaxed me halfway toward orgasm. But when I let out a breath and sank deeper into the luxurious sheets, I realized I had been holding out, some small part of me perhaps thinking it unseemly or improper for me to be there with Katherine, so blatantly reveling in sex when I had more important things on my mind. But could there be anything more important than a woman’s touch forcing me to get in touch with my body and desires?

  I let out a moan as her mouth made its way lower, taking me farther from the realities of life and deeper into the world of pleasure. Her tongue traced its way over the hardness of my stomach, kissing and licking alternately before she reached my pubic hair. I hoped she wouldn’t mind how unruly it had become, but she seemed to delight in it, running her fingers through my fuzz, tugging at a few of the hairs before she breathed against my sex, her lips so close, promising me their kiss. And Katherine was a woman who kept her promises. I felt like I was floating as she ran her tongue along
my lower lips. She wasn’t aggressive like some of the women I’d been with, and her gentleness seemed to imply that there was more passion lurking just beneath the surface. “You are heavenly,” she said, her words music to my ears. I’d been growing steadily more aroused, out of control, filled with something new and exciting yet also terrifying. Katherine’s mouth told me everything would be okay. Her tongue taught me that my pussy was still my own, that I could still bring a woman that special ecstasy that comes from partaking of another woman’s juices. Her lips told me that she couldn’t imagine a more sensuous delight than exploring my every nook and cranny.

  I soon got over feeling selfish and simply enjoyed the gift she was giving me. I could still feel the baby, but she was, momentarily, secondary. It was just me and Katherine, and soon her fingers began exploring me as her tongue rested against my clit, sampling its heat but simply staying there, as if she’d pressed the pause button. “You’re so wet for me,” she observed, and I smiled. All my pent-up pleasure, my juices that had had seemingly nowhere to go, my longing that I’d poured into decorating and preparing, all came out in this exotic place, with a woman I still wasn’t sure was real. It was as if she’d been sent to answer my prayers, one stroke at a time.

  I was glad we’d come back to her suite, especially when she slipped away momentarily, only to return with a bottle of lube—that was the last thing I’d have thought to bring with me. “You’re dripping, but I need more for what I have in mind,” she said as I watched her pour some of the clear liquid onto her fingers. They were cool and slippery when they returned to the heat of my cunt; my needy, greedy hole. And then right away I knew what she was going to do, and while I wasn’t sure I could handle it, I knew I wanted it. She curved her fingers together, pinching them all as if acting out some mime’s routine, but this was all real. She pushed her fingers and thumb, wet with a combination of my cream and the bottled variety, inside, while I did my best to spread my legs and get ready. She entered me slowly and quickly, somehow, the dragging seconds making me ache all over. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I let it out in a whoosh. I reached above me with both hands, holding on to the headboard as she sank her fingers deeper inside.

  “You’re so ready, Bea, my beautiful Bea.” I wasn’t hers exactly, but at that moment, I wanted to be, desperately. I’d become accustomed to the fact that I no longer belonged to anyone, but someone new was about to belong to me, and I thought I’d surrendered the dream of having another woman looking out for me, claiming me, marking me. That longing must have lurked somewhere deep within me, somewhere Katherine was about to find with those probing fingers. She managed to get past her wrist with ease, without even a twinge of discomfort, only tightness, fullness and my desire to have her inside me. She curled her fingers into a fist and I felt tears rush to my eyes. I was overwhelmed by the magnitude of her action, by her willingness to slow down and make love to me with her hand and her mind, rather than fuck me in a way that would have left me shaken. I was so swollen, from the inside out, doubly now, and I just let the tears flow as she rocked ever so slowly inside me, her eyes on my face the whole time.

  Her fist was like a caress, a promise that no matter what happened, I would never lose the part of me that made me a woman, a dyke, a lover, even if I had no one to share that love with. Katherine wasn’t promising me forever, but her hand seemed to extend into the future, the future me, the future mommy she was speaking to as if she already existed. My island beauty edged her hand along my insides until I cracked and came not just with my cunt but my entire being, bursting through the shadows that had been holding me down and emerging into a new place, one full of light and promise. “Yes, my dear girl,” she whispered, “don’t ever forget what your body can do.” She eased out and I was mesmerized by the way she licked my juices gently from her fingers with the utmost tenderness.

  She leaned down and kissed my belly, then led me into her bathroom for a bath, helping me into the warm water, guiding the sponge along my skin. Later, when I was dry and warm and once again in her bed, I asked if I could do something for her. I had a strong desire to make her come, not just to return the favor, but to see her beauty too blossom from the inside out.

  “Watch me,” she said, and pulled a pale pink dildo from her side drawer. Unabashedly throwing back the covers, she showed me how she makes love to herself, and I soaked in that image, memorized it for the future. Her cries of ecstatic agony, which she tried but failed to muffle in deference to her sleeping neighbors, made the baby kick. We fell asleep side by side, and for the rest of my stay, I spent my nights in her suite.

  I had thought maybe we’d become pen pals and somehow overcome the distance, but when I wrote her, I never heard back. I still never forgot her, and I named my baby girl Kat in her honor. I plan to take Kat to Oahu someday, because even though it’s not where she was conceived, it’s where I learned that I could be both a mother and a lover.

  CAMSHAFT CUTIE

  Crystal Barela

  The sun’s rays were pressing down on the back of my neck, making it difficult to think. It was 115 degrees, and I was surrounded by miles of open desert and sagebrush. Screaming traffic raced past me on the highway. There was no pause at the site of my broken-down car. You would have thought that my sweat-drenched tank top would have given someone pause. It now left little to the imagination.

  A hot breeze ruffled my skirt around my knees in an unsatisfying swirl. I squatted down in the shadow of my car in a most unladylike fashion and checked my mobile for the hundredth time, as if cell service would magically have become available.

  The last town I had passed was Boron. The Borax Capital of the World the sign had read. I’d never heard of it before today. I guess I should be grateful that there was a town within thirty miles of where my car had coasted to a stop in front of one of the yellow call boxes that lined this stretch of highway. An hour had passed since AAA had said the tow truck was twenty minutes out, and I was on my last bottle of water. The urge to pour the now warm liquid over my head was nearly as strong as my want to chug it. I closed my eyes as I took a sip, offering up a prayer for salvation.

  In answer there was the sound of gravel beneath wheels. I opened my eyes and blinked rapidly to see a tow truck sparkling like heaven in the sunlight. It took what I thought was a leisurely coast to the front of my dead vehicle.

  The driver opened the door and got out, back to me. I saw baggy, nondescript, blue workman coveralls and an orange baseball cap. The bill, facing me, read, Ripe Peaches.

  “AAA said half an hour,” I said, coming up to the driver, ready to tear him a new one.

  “I got here as fast as I could, sugar,” the driver said. I could hear the laughter in her voice as she turned to greet me. “We were closed when I got the call.”

  She had the greenest eyes I had ever seen, framed by delicate crow’s feet. Shorter than I am, she squinted up at me now, giving evidence that their creation had been from the sun and not her age. The oval name patch over her left breast pocket identified her as Dick. Something shifted inside me. Anger was gone and desire now present.

  “Thought I’d do ya a good Samaritan seeing as you are from out of town and all.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “It’s just so hot.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said. Her eyes did not reach mine but instead focused on my breasts. My nipples could be seen through the thin fabric, and her pointed stare only brought them to greater attention.

  Dick asked me to pop the hood. She unzipped her coveralls, letting them fall to her waist. She wore a white wife-beater. Sleeves of brightly colored tattoos ran up both arms. When she bent under the hood the coveralls tightened across what appeared to be a very firm ass. She wiggled the spark plugs and poked the battery.

  I leaned in beside her, not seeing anything that appeared out of place. It looked like an engine to me.