Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year, Volume 3 Page 9

  Then Alyssa went up to the podium and started reading, passionate words rolling out of her mouth to fill the small store. Her voice caressed their ears, her words like tongues on Lizzie’s skin. Despite her fears and her anxiety, she couldn’t help but respond. The stories were angry, erotic, fierce, and Alyssa read each short piece perfectly. The room erupted into cheers each time she paused to drink from her water bottle.

  She paused to answer a question and in that moment, Lizzie was conscious of being pressed up against A.J., of Sam on the other side of her, of Alyssa’s words licking their way up her thighs and every inch of her exposed skin. A.J. gave her a crooked grin and a slow onceover that made Lizzie flush before she grinned back.

  It was warm in the store, warmer on the crowded couch, and Lizzie wanted . . . wanted so much. Wanted A.J.’s long fingers between her legs, wanted Alyssa’s nipples in her mouth, wanted . . . all of them. Every last woman and genderqueer and nonbinary person in the store. All of them. Tits, pussies, asses, any erogenous zones they wanted to share. Lizzie shivered at the idea. She’d never felt like this before. Was it just her? She was afraid to look around, afraid to wonder.

  But that fear didn’t last long. A.J. nudged her shoulder, making her look up from the floor. “You doing okay?”

  Lizzie fell into A.J.’s blue eyes. “Umm . . . yeah. I think so. Alyssa is really, really good.” She hesitated for a minute, then added, “I’m so glad that I made it here tonight. Even with those assholes and their fucking beer bottle.”

  “Us too.” Sam nudged her shoulder from the other side, grinned at both of them, then turned away and kissed their date.

  Lizzie looked away, aroused and embarrassed. A.J. caught her mood, like she was reading her mind, or so it felt to Lizzie. “Hey, I could use some air, but I think I’d like to pass on going out front for the time being. Misha and Lou have a little yard out back. You want to step outside with me for a couple of minutes?” A.J.’s voice was a quiet purr against her ear and Lizzie could feel herself blush.

  Part of Lizzie hesitated. She hardly knew this woman or her friends or anyone in the store. And she’d only ever kissed another girl once. What if she screwed up something, anything, and they all made fun of her and kicked her out? Maybe she wasn’t really that into girls. Maybe . . . she popped up from the couch before she could lose her nerve. “Yes! Let’s go.”

  Lizzie thought she heard a giggle or two behind them, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she marched straight for the back of the store, then realized that she had no idea where this patio was. She paused and stared fiercely at a bookcase, like there was a title that caught her attention. And it probably had, or would have, under other circumstances. One that didn’t include a hot woman leaning over her shoulder.

  A.J. looked at the shelf in front of them. “Seems a bit theoretical. I’m a praxis kind of gal, myself. How about you, Lizzie?” She chuckled quietly in Lizzie’s ear, sending hot waves up and down her body.

  “Where’s this patio of yours?” Lizzie glanced around. Someone else was stepping up to the mike, sheaf of pages in hand. “Looks like the open mike is going to start.” The store looked different from this angle, a little darker, more chaotic, the crowd a sea of shaved heads and dyed hair. Nothing like back home. “I love this.” She grinned up at A.J.

  “Me too. You write?”

  Lizzie blushed. Was she that obvious? A.J. opened a door and ushered her outside. “A little. But not like anything I could read here or get published or anything.”

  “Yeah? I think it’s cool that you write. What kind of stuff?” They were outside now, standing under the stars on an uneven brick patio with a bunch of garage-sale chairs and small tables scattered around it. A couple of recycled barrels full of flowers and vegetables and some metal and wooden artwork completed the picture. They were also alone for the first time. Lizzie looked at A.J., looked at how close she was standing, and blurted out, “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

  A.J.’s smile lit up her long face for a moment. “I think we can make that happen.” Her arms wrapped around Lizzie slowly, carefully, like she was afraid of scaring her off. Then Lizzie’s arms were around A.J.’s neck and they were awkwardly figuring out where everyone’s nose should go. Once their lips met, Lizzie was very, very sure that she liked girls and liked this one quite a bit right now.

  Things got a bit blurry after that. A.J. tasted like pop and salsa and breath mints and Lizzie had a moment of pure self-consciousness wondering if she tasted like her dinner and if that was gross. Then she lost herself exploring A.J.’s mouth with her tongue and reveling in her own mouth being explored in turn. She pulled them closer together as A.J.’s hands slipped lower, then wandered over to her jacket’s zipper.

  The autumn night was chilly enough that Lizzie shivered a little when A.J. unzipped her jacket, in spite of all the heat they were generating. A.J. unzipped her own jacket and used it to wrap around both them to pull Lizzie even closer. Lizzie’s black lace top did little to conceal her hardened nipples and she moaned into A.J.’s mouth when the other woman’s thumb grazed first one, then the other. A.J. sat down on one of the sturdier tables and pulled Lizzie into her lap without breaking off their kiss.

  From somewhere nearby, Lizzie heard the patio door open, heard voices, then heard the door shut again, this time closing out the sound of several people laughing. She flushed and pulled away, but didn’t release her arms from A.J.’s neck. A.J. laughed. “No worries. It’s not the first time.” Lizzie’s jaw dropped. “No! I don’t mean me, I just mean, you know, in general.” A.J.’s blush showed up splendidly despite the dim lights on the patio.

  Lizzie paused before she started laughing, mostly at herself and their situation. This was nuts. Who was she to be jealous or surprised about anything this almost complete stranger had done before they met? “I’m kinda . . . new to all this.” She gestured around, in a way that suggested she could mean a whole bunch of things.

  “And this is moving too fast. We’ve already had a rough night.” A.J. looked adorably contrite in the shadowy light.

  “Wait, what? No.” Lizzie stumbled over her words in her hurry to get this very cute, hot woman to reconsider. They might not have ever met tonight, they could have been killed by those assholes in the car, A.J. could have had a girlfriend or partner waiting for her in the store, a thousand possibilities could have stood between them and this moment—but none of those things had happened. This was her big chance, dammit, and she wasn’t going to waste it. “I want this. A lot.”

  She plastered herself to A.J.’s torso, her thighs on either side of the other’s legs, and kissed her as hard as she could. A.J. stiffened, then relaxed into the kiss. She pulled Lizzie down so that she straddled her lap and Lizzie gasped as A.J. broke the kiss off to run her tongue down the exposed skin of Lizzie’s neck. “Me too.” A.J.’s response was muffled, but enthusiastic.

  A.J. slipped one arm around her waist and tucked the other around Lizzie’s ass, rocking her hips so their crotches touched. Lizzie reached down between them and gave A.J. a tentative rub through her jeans and A.J. gave her neck a pleased groan and a gentle nip in response. A.J.’s free hand was up Lizzie’s skirt now, stroking her thigh under her tights and sending a spark through her with every touch.

  Lizzie felt A.J. fumbling with the top button on her lace top and reached up to undo it herself. She leaned in to run her tongue along the edge of A.J.’s ear, drinking in her scent and the taste of her skin. One button slipped open, then the next, and A.J. buried her face between Lizzie’s large breasts with a happy sigh. Lizzie’s skin burned at the touch of A.J.’s hot mouth exploring her skin. They wrapped each other closer, merging together into a tangle of limbs and mouths and heat and desire, enough to drive off the chilly air.

  A.J. shifted Lizzie over so that she straddled one of A.J.’s thighs and Lizzie moved so that her knee was between A.J.’s legs. She undid another button on her top and groaned deep in her throat as A.J. pulled one of
her hardened nipples into her mouth. Her hands felt clumsy but it didn’t stop her from scrambling over every bit of A.J. that she could reach under her jacket. Touching, stroking, pinching—she wanted them to be naked, wanted their hot flesh to fuse together into a naked wet pile of need and fulfillment.

  She pushed her knee harder into A.J.’s crotch and was rewarded with a quiet groan as the other woman’s hips rocked forward, driving against her pressure. Lizzie wasn’t sure what to do next, but A.J. seemed to know what would work for her. She rubbed herself faster against Lizzie’s leg, moaning softly into her breasts as her grip tightened. Finally, just when Lizzie thought she might burst from lack of air and the suspense of wondering what might happen next, A.J. came with a groan, her whole body shaking under and around Lizzie’s, her head thrown back as she gasped for air.

  When she stopped quivering and opened her eyes, Lizzie grinned down at her and kissed her hard. “That was so hot,” she murmured when they came up for air. “I’ve never met anyone like you before,” she added truthfully, then bit off everything else she had planned to follow that up with. Maybe this was a one-time thing. Maybe A.J. did this every week. Maybe . . .

  A.J. pulled her forward, like she was thinking that she could make Lizzie come with the pressure from her leg alone. And it just might happen. Lizzie was tingly with arousal and excitement. She ached so badly that she wasn’t sure it would ever go away. Yet, with all that, she couldn’t relax enough to come this way.

  It only took a few minutes for A.J. to catch on, without her even saying anything. She gently pushed Lizzie backward, stood up, and changed their positions. A moment later, she was kneeling between Lizzie’s legs, running her hand up the inside of her thigh. “Do you like these tights?” Her voice was gravelly with desire and the look in her blue eyes made Lizzie shiver all over.

  “N-no. Want me to take them off?” Lizzie thought that right now she might be willing to sacrifice an internal organ that she wasn’t using, anything to get A.J.’s hands and mouth back on her body.

  “I think I’ve got a better solution.” A.J.’s breathy laugh warmed Lizzie’s thighs and she could feel fingers against her thighs and crotch. Then, just as she reined in the impulse to hump A.J.’s hands, there was a small metallic click followed by a blast of cold air on her suddenly bare skin. “Just opening up an easy access panel.” A.J. laughed again, then lowered her mouth to Lizzie’s bare skin.

  Lizzie nearly levitated off the table. A.J.’s fingers were on her panties, then inside them, then inside her. A.J.’s mouth was hot and wet against the cotton covering her clit. Lizzie wrapped her fingers in what she could grasp of A.J.’s short-cropped hair, trying to pull her closer, trying to ride her tongue and fingers to an elusive release. She gasped for air as A.J. rubbed her thumb against her clit, sending shock waves through her.

  Her clit burned from the unaccustomed pressure while her nerve endings vibrated with every new touch, every new smell. She lost herself in a fantasy of naked skin and silky sheets, of A.J. thrusting into her, sucking her clit, tasting and savoring her until she couldn’t hold back anymore. She saw sparks until she convulsed with a yell that made her clap her hand over her mouth as soon as she recovered some measure of self-control.

  She could feel her face go bright red as A.J. grinned up from between her thighs. “Well, if they had any questions inside about what we were up to, they don’t anymore.” She stroked Lizzie’s quivering skin for a few more moments, letting her ride out the aftershocks. She stood up and looked at Lizzie, who stared back at her in a roiling mix of horror and lust. “It’s okay. It’s not like . . . wait, was this your first time?” Lizzie responded with a stunned nod. “Oh wow, I wish I’d known. I could have taken you . . . well, no. Who am I kidding? I wanted you now and this was really hot.” A.J. leaned in and kissed her gently, then began buttoning up her shirt.

  “Is everyone going to make fun of us? Was I really that loud?” Lizzie hunched miserably as she clambered slowly off the table.

  “Wait, wait. No, hon. They’ll tease us a little, sure, but this isn’t like high school or something. The mean girls aren’t going to shun us from their lunchroom table. If anything, they’ll be jealous that they weren’t out here having fun.” A.J. zipped up her jacket and gave her a long hug. “And Alyssa will be flattered that she inspired an orgasm or two. She says that’s the best tribute her work can receive.” A.J. laughed again, quiet and sexy in the cool air.

  Lizzie drew in a deep breath and realized that she was cold, much colder than she would have expected, given what they’d been doing. A quick glance around showed her that the only exit from the patio was through the store, so there was no avoiding the crowd inside. Besides, if she bolted, who knew when she’d see A.J. again? “Okay,” she began hesitantly, gathering up a little more courage. “Could we maybe go out for coffee after this?”

  “As opposed to humping each other on the bus? You bet. You ready to go back inside? I’m getting pretty cold.” A.J. reached out and took Lizzie’s hand in hers and waited for her nod. Then together, they stepped back into the store, filled with light and laughter and words that lit up the night like magic.

  OLIVER: TWISTED

  Nanisi Barrett D’Arnuk

  I looked out across the field of people and shook my head. All these women, and not one could look at me. Not that they knew I was there, but just once I wished that someone would look up and see me, or at least look like they saw me. That’s all I wanted: just one woman. But, like every other night, not one raised her eyes. Just once, I thought, at least one.

  I watched the women focus on their cards, not letting a thought that someone was watching disturb their concentration. The dealers dealt and shuffled, then dealt and shuffled, and dealt and shuffled. The players won and lost without looking around, without a second thought for the bubbles in the ceiling that contained surveillance cameras.

  This is an easy and boring job, except on those rare nights when someone, either too drunk or wanting more money, tries something foolish. Then we get to watch interesting things, like someone being surreptitiously thrown out of the casino; hidden, so the other patrons won’t be disturbed. Tonight I watched the cutie in the second seat at the blackjack table. She had short dark hair that looked great from the top. So did her voluptuous cleavage that showed when she leaned back. These were the ones that made this job interesting. I could be a voyeur without the fear of being discovered or guilt that I was staring.

  Look up, look up I thought, trying to concentrate hard enough that my thoughts would get through to the woman. But she didn’t look up. She simply played her cards, the pile of chips in front of her rising and falling as the evening wore on. Come on, cutie, concentrate, I projected. Look up at the ceiling.

  My name is Cheryl Oliver and I’ve worked here over two years, viewing the monitors to make sure nothing gets out of hand down on the casino floor. It isn’t a hard job, the hours are great and the pay passable. It’s easier than any other place I’ve worked and at least I don’t have to communicate with customers with such inane lines as “Do you want fries with that?” or “Thank you. Drive through.”

  I work the late shift, six p.m. to two a.m. That gives me afternoons to run errands or do whatever needs to be done. I work Saturday evening to Thursday morning. That’s the good part; I have Thursday evening, all day Friday and Saturdays until six free.

  “Hey, Oliver, ready for a break?” came a voice over my headset.

  “Yeah, Bruce. Thanks,” I answered.

  “Logan’s on her way up.”

  “Going on a break,” I signaled to Jimmy, who sat at the station next to mine. He gave me a thumbs-up. That’s what communication is like all the time here. There are weeks when I don’t hear another human voice at all, except for Bruce or Darren, the night managers.

  In a couple of minutes I heard footsteps on the stairs. I stood, took my headphones off, and stretched to get the kinks out of my back.

  “Hey, Cher, how’s it going toni
ght?” Jane Logan asked. She walked into the room and threw her backpack on the floor beside the chair.

  “Pretty quiet tonight. Not much happening.”

  “Any cute ones down there?” Jane asked, scanning the row of monitors.

  “Check out the cleavage in seat two at blackjack table three.”

  Janie looked and let out a low whistle. “Nice,” she whispered. “Very nice.”

  “She’s probably straight,” I reminded her.

  “Just window shopping.”

  I had to chuckle as I picked up my backpack and headed for the stairs.

  “I’ll be back in twenty.”

  “Take your time,” Janie called after me.

  I went down the stairs and walked slowly across the casino floor, holding a glass of soda one of the waitresses had handed me. The bartenders knew we’d need one as soon as we appeared. I looked up at the bubble and gave a cheerful wave. I wasn’t sure who was watching, but it was nice to be recognized once in a while.

  The casino was loud and the clientele boisterous. Everyone was happy that it was the weekend and those that weren’t winning were sitting in the bar having a glass of liquid that’s-okay or at least a bottle of poor-baby with their buddies. Others were sitting at the tables having the $4.99 special: a six-ounce sirloin, a small baked potato, and a salad.

  I walked all around the casino, watching people play blackjack, roulette, or half a dozen other table games. The woman I’d seen at the blackjack table wasn’t there. Maybe she’d gone home, but at eleven o’clock on a Saturday night? Maybe I hadn’t recognized her. I hadn’t actually looked at her face.

  I cruised by the slot machines but there were so many rows of them, I didn’t get to see them all. Besides, there’s not a lot of room between the rows so it was hard to get through without bumping into everyone. The band in the bar was taking a break so there was nothing to watch there, either. Slow night.