Best Lesbian Romance 2012 Page 7

  “How are they?” I asked. “How are you?”

  Her smile wavered and she reached out to touch my hand. “Thirsty,” she murmured.

  By the time I’d gotten her some white wine and a water, she was cheerful again, and told me that Laney had gotten a lot of books out of the library about animals and was studying up to be a vet and that Kiera had started karate and was loving it. I couldn’t stop smiling, listening to her. She leaned closer to me so that I could hear her over the music, and a stray wisp of hair brushed my cheek. She stopped talking and just looked at me. I wondered if my intense need to bury my face in that hair showed in my eyes.

  “Maeve!” Her friend came over and joined us, full of curiosity about me and bursting with the news that she had a date with the bartender. That particular young Casanova took home so many willing females that I would hardly have called it a coup, but I didn’t say anything, just introduced myself, and Randy, too, who had reappeared. Randy gave me a “well, I tried” look, and I shrugged, but it didn’t matter that Maeve and I weren’t alone anymore. Just sitting there with her was enough. It turned out the friend, Trisha, used to work at the co-op with Randy, so they had a lot to talk about. I asked Maeve if she wanted to dance.

  “Just for a little while,” she said. “I only have the babysitter until eleven.”

  I held out my hand to her and led her onto the dance floor. It seemed only natural not to let go, but to hold her close to me. She laid her head on my shoulder and I could feel her sigh.

  “It’s so nice to see you, Maeve,” I said into her ear. She nodded her head, and we danced slow to something fast. At ten thirty, I asked her if I could give her a ride home, sending a silent thank-you to Randy, who does almost as well as the bartender when it comes to picking up women and so always insists on taking two cars when we go out together. Maeve and I said our good-byes, and I escorted her out to the truck. She scooched over close to me in the cab and we held hands all the way back, clasping and unclasping them whenever I had to change gears. It was so much like high school that we got the giggles. Back at her house, she invited me in, and I went to the kitchen for water while she paid the babysitter and went upstairs to check on the girls.

  There was something different about the house. Maybe because it was night, maybe because they had been living there for a while now and were completely unpacked, but there was a cozy feel to the place, and I smiled to see cereal bowls and juice glasses in the sink, left over from breakfast. When she came down, she caught me looking under the shades of her living room lamps.

  “How are these energy-efficient bulbs working out for you?” I asked, blushing a little.

  “Just fine.” She reached over me and turned the lamp off, leaving the room lit only by a streetlight outside. “Just they take so long to warm up—I’m used to turning on the light and having it be bright right away.”

  “I know, but you get used to it, and—” But then she was kissing me and my fingers were tangled in her hair.

  “I wanted to,” she whispered. “I wanted to when you were working here.”

  “I thought you were straight,” I blurted out, then kissed her again in embarrassment. Her lips were so soft and she gave me her mouth, letting me slip my tongue inside, meeting it with her own, generously yielding to me.

  “I don’t think so,” she said breathlessly when we stopped, and we both started laughing. “I mean, I’m not a hundred percent sure.” We laughed even harder.

  “Shh!” She turned on a light and listened for a moment. “They’re still asleep,” she said, sighing. “They would go crazy if they knew you were here. They would insist on getting up and saying hi.”

  “Maybe I could come back when they’re awake,” I said, and she nodded, settling into my arms.

  “I wanted to call you,” I said quietly, stroking her cheek. “I picked up the phone about a million times.”

  “I wanted to call you, too,” she said. “But I was too shy. I’ve never asked a woman on a date.”

  “Are we on a date?” I asked, my lips brushing her ear, moving on to brush the side of her neck, find her mouth again.

  “Definitely.” We kissed for a long time. I wondered if maybe she would ask me to stay the night, and I wondered if I would. I was incredibly turned on, but I wasn’t really in a hurry. The thought of seeing her naked made my heart stop, but I didn’t need that to happen right away, and in fact, I was happy to wait. Kissing her luscious mouth, tracing the contours of her face, playing with her gorgeous hair, and nibbling her earlobe— wasn’t there enough right here to keep me busy for weeks?

  In the end, it was Laney who decided for us, waking from a bad dream and needing her mommy. I snuck out while Maeve was still up there, singing lullabies to Laney in a husky, loving voice. I left her a note saying I would call the next day and got in the truck smiling and sang along to my Patti Smith CD, loud, the whole way home. When I got there, the message light was blinking on my machine. It was Maeve.

  She didn’t say anything at all, just started in singing me a lullaby. “Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, too-ra-loo-ra-li,” she sang. I got ready for bed with her sweet, low voice echoing in my ears, glad again that we hadn’t spent the night together this very first night. You’ve got to go slow, feeling your way, when you’ve got a time and materials job, otherwise you might miss something. I told her that the very first time I met her. There was nothing about Maeve I wanted to miss—not one thing—and I went off to sleep hoping that we’d be working together for a long, long time.

  WHAT NO ONE ELSE HAS

  Theda Hudson

  The club was hopping. It could have had something to do with the program tonight, featuring moi as the demo sub.

  Cass had me perched on a stool, showing off one of the newest corsets Bound for Fun offered.

  I love corsets. I love the way they bind and shape. I love the way I feel when I wear them—super fem, super charged, ready for anything.

  Cass says it’s because I am—super fem, super charged, and ready for anything.

  My smile widens at the thought of all these super-hot eyes on me.

  One pair in particular. She’s got beautiful tan skin, well-defined cheekbones, short spiky light brown hair, blatant, curious eyes (green like emeralds, twinkling in the soft overhead lights and softer ropes of lights strung along the tops of the walls), soft gray flannel slacks with a crease sharp enough to cut cheese, a button-down dove gray silky shirt with a charcoal tie, and a coarse-woven silvery jacket.

  We’ve locked eyes a dozen times since I noticed her. I shift and arch my back, showing off my tits, which well up out of the tulip cups of the purple paisley velvet corset. I want to rub the black velvet trim at the top, but settle for shifting so it rubs itself along my full breasts.

  Yeah, her pupils get bigger. I’m sure mine do. I know my smile does.

  After the demo, my ass is red and my nipples are deliciously tender from Cass showing off the season’s newest toys.

  She’s got another sub handling sales at the table while she sets up an open play session so we can show off more of the toys, encouraging more sales.

  I catch the woman’s eye again as she’s refilling her glass at the refreshment bar. She smiles just a little. It’s so delicious, I’m ambling over before I know what’s what. I have to put together my own plate and water, so it’s not like I don’t have a reason to go, I tell myself when I’m nearly there.

  My hips are really loose and I can feel my pussy buzz with pleasure and go all oozy at the thought of rubbing against those flannel pants.

  I grab two bottles of water and then realize I still have to put together a plate for afterward. Stupid. She’s watching me. And suddenly my body has lost the fluid grace I enjoy so much and I become spastic as I try to scoop fruit, crackers, and bread onto a paper plate.

  There is no way I can carry everything and she knows it, too.

  “May I help?”

  I turn and she’s better looking even closer. Her skin is beautiful an
d I want to run a finger along her strong jaw, trace the line of her Cupid lips before planting my own right over them.

  A small sigh escapes me. Her smile goes rakish. I bet she gets this reaction all the time.

  I want to play with her. I want to bend over and stick my ass out so she can spank it. Her hand, a paddle, a moosehide flogger, I don’t care. I want her hands, her mouth, and her eyes all over my tits.

  I can smell my desire billowing up between us, mixing with the musky cologne she wears. She can smell me, too, and her eyebrow lifts in amusement.

  “Please. Yes, please help me...” Help me come about a million times.

  “Micky,” she says, lifting the plate out of my hand, and her fingers, long and scrupulously manicured, touch mine. I flinch from the jolt I get. Not a shock, no, a connection.

  I search her face, amazed by what just happened. She feels it, too, but she’s calm under my gaze.

  I swallow hard.

  “I’m Lucy.”

  “I know,” she says and I am flabbergasted for a moment. She knows my name!

  “How, how did you know?”

  She smiles patiently, like I’m an idiot. “Because they introduced you at the start of the program.”

  Stupid idiot, I thought.

  “Of course.”

  “Where do you need to go?” she said magnanimously.

  Right over your lap and never let me up.

  “Over there,” I said, pointing with one bottle at the Saint Andrew’s cross.

  She nodded. “After you.”

  I know I flushed, across my face, down my neck, and across my chest and back, when I realized she was going to watch me walk over there.

  My hips, already loose, rolled and swayed and shimmied as I made my way through the crowds to where Cass stood waiting for me.

  I put the bottles on the console table where she had laid out the toys she wanted to demo.

  “Here,” I said to Micky.

  She put the plate down.

  “I hope you’ll try out some of the toys,” I said.

  “No, I don’t think so. I’ll just watch.”

  All the air puffed out of me.

  “Oh. Oh,” I said like a complete bubblehead.

  She smiled at bit at my flustered confusion.

  Ah, just a little wicked. What, was she a voyeur? I could handle that.

  I smirked.

  “Thanks. I hope you enjoy the show.”

  She cocked her head and nodded, a sly smile creeping onto her face like a cat with an extra-nice bird in her mouth.

  “Ready, Lucy?” Cass asked.

  “Yes, sir,” I said, dragging my eyes and head away from Micky’s gaze.

  She faded back behind the boundary circle Cass indicated, but I knew where she was.

  Cass put the bunny fur cuffs on me. I twisted my wrists and legs around, as much to show them off as to feel the luxurious fur stroke my flesh.

  “I’m going to use the latest in nipple clamps and weights,” she says, showing off the anodized clamps and the different chain lengths.

  I hate nipple clamps as much as I love pussy lip clamps.

  Cass reaches into the corset and lifts my right breast out. Her hands are cold and I flinch a little as she tweaks my nipple to get it stand up.

  As she attaches it, I soothe myself thinking of Micky’s manicured fingers tightening the clamps, brushing across the tortured flesh, pulling at the chain that connects them. My pussy jerks and swells at the thought.

  “We have a wide variety of weights in different themes. Each figure comes in a weight range and you can buys sets,” Cass says. “Tonight only it’s buy one, get one free.” She hangs a sun, a crescent moon, and a starburst on the chain and smiles as I wince.

  I look out over the crowd and catch sight of Micky. Her face is placid, but her eyes are locked onto me.

  Cass gets the labial clamps set up, making lewd comments about the state of my arousal.

  By the time she directs me to the cross and clips the cuffs to the eyebolts, I am buzzing high, touching the outer edges of subspace.

  She demonstrates the various toys and oversees folks as they try them out on me. I’m a good one for this kind of demo. I can take a lot of mistakes and come out the other end just fine. I went into my head and took Micky with me.

  Cass offered me water periodically and I drank greedily.

  When it was over, she unclipped the clamps, rubbed my nipples as the blood flooded back in, and gave me a good long hit with the vibrator and a fat dildo to clench. After I came good and hard, she cleaned me up and helped me to the ratty green sofa and covered me with my favorite blue fleece blanket.

  Several people came and thanked me for the exhibition. I kept watching for Micky, but she’d disappeared. I was disappointed. I hoped she’d come speak to me. A few women asked for my number. Those, I told to leave their names so I could check them out in time for the next party.

  At last the crowd dissipated. I finished my snack and turned to putting lotion on my ass, thighs, and breasts.

  As I pulled out my street clothes, Micky came back around and squatted down next to the couch.

  “Very nice exhibit. You are quite beautiful in your distress, very graceful.”

  I swallowed. “Thank you.”

  “I’d like to see you. If you would be interested.”

  If I’d be interested.

  “Tonight?”

  She smiled regretfully.

  “No, not tonight. May I have your number?”

  I never gave my number out.

  She saw my hesitation. “That’s okay.”

  “No, no, please. I just...” What would I say? Protect myself from weirdos? That would be very good, Lucy.

  I gave it to her.

  She solemnly put it into her phone. “I’ll be in touch.”

  I kept the phone on me for two weeks. Then I gave it up, thinking she’d lost interest, she thought I was a ditz for hesitating, she figured I’d given it to her to smooth over an awkward moment there and had no intention of seeing her.

  I rethought the evening a hundred ways. I could have told her how interested I was. I could have begged her to have me, call me, whatever she wanted.

  Just as all that faded away, she called.

  “Lucy,” she said when I answered. “It’s Micky. Is now a good time to talk?”

  “Yes, it is,” I said stupidly, overjoyed to hear from her. She’d ask me to play. I could have her over. I got my own set of toys as part of my pay for doing the demos.

  We made pleasantries for a few minutes and then she said, “A Midsummer Night’s Dream is at the Buell. Would you like to go?”

  Of all the things she could have asked, this was the last thing I would have thought of. Shakespeare? That was a torture I’d endured in high school.

  It wasn’t the kind of torture I envisioned as an adult.

  I must have waited too long.

  “Ah, the play’s not the thing with you, is it?”

  “No, no,” I said, desperate to not miss out. “I mean, it’s fine. I was, I was just distracted for a moment.”

  “Is this not a good time? I can call you again.”

  “No, no,” I nearly shouted. “It’s fine. I’d love to go. When?”

  “I can get tickets for any time. We could have dinner before or after, whatever you like.”

  This was way stiffer than I imagined our first phone conversation to be. She was so polite, so thoughtful.

  “Um, Friday?”

  “This Friday? That’s good. The show’s at seven thirty. Do you want dinner before or after?”

  “Uh, it’ll have to be after. I don’t get off until five thirty and I have to go home and dress.”

  Did I have anything suitable for a play? Micky was quite the dresser, so I’d need something nice.

  “Good. That’s fine. You just need to tell me where to pick you up.”

  Pick me up?

  I must have paused too long again, because she said, �
��I can meet you downtown if you prefer. I understand.”

  “No, no.” For Pete’s sake, I’d just been thinking of having her over to play. What was wrong with me?

  I gave her the address.

  “Say six forty-five?”

  “Okay.”

  I hung up and went directly to my closet to look for something to wear. Everything was either too casual or too slutty for a posh evening out.

  I went shopping. I hated everything I tried on. I finally settled for a black gabardine pencil skirt and a short-waisted beaded matching jacket. My red satin corset would cover my tits, yet give me a suggestion of cleavage. And my grandmother’s jet teardrop necklace would top it off.

  She rang my bell, doorbell that is, promptly at six forty-five. I spritzed Poison in front of me and walked through the perfumy mist.

  I must have looked all right because she just stood there for a long moment, drinking me in. I did my share of drinking, too, and I think we were both a little tipsy when I gestured her in. She wore a black, fitted suit with a snow white shirt that had gold-trimmed ebon button covers and a black silk bow tie. A red rose poked jauntily from her lapel. She carried a small box in one hand and lifted it with a flourish.

  A corsage. I hadn’t had one of those since senior prom. A beautiful blood-red bud nestled in a bed of baby’s breath stared up at me.

  “It’s beautiful.” I didn’t know what to say. This was so different than what I wanted. Torture. That had to be it. Draw out the suspense. My teal silk panties got wet. They’d be sopping by the end of the night.

  “Allow me,” she said, taking the box from me. Our fingers touched and I felt the current even after that faint caress.

  And it had been a caress.

  She opened the box and lifted out the rose and two pins. Stepping in, she put the corsage to my left lapel and pinned it. I watched her concentrate as she maneuvered the pin through the cloth and the floral tape.

  I wanted to kiss her, but settled for breathing in her scent. She wore the same cologne. I wished I had forgone my perfume so I could breathe her earthy, rich scent.

  She stepped back.

  “Very nice.” She offered her arm and I grabbed my purse and keys from the table by the door.