My Friend The Bride: A Lesbian Romance

by Nicolette Dane

  “Thick skin,” said Erica. “You don’t really show that much emotion in class,” she said. “I think that’s a good thing.”

  “Remember when Melissa basically cried during her critique?” said Minju in a murmur, her eyes darting around to make sure that Melissa wasn’t waiting in the wings to hear her. “That was gnarly.”

  “She has, um, emotional issues,” said Erica. “I don’t mean to say that in a bitchy way, it’s just true.”

  “You can’t let the negative critiques get to you,” I said. “If you put yourself out there like we do, you’re bound to have both positive and negative reactions. You can’t make everybody happy.”

  “Truth,” said Minju.

  “Hey!” said Erica in a loud whisper. “Harriet just walked in.”

  We all looked toward the front of the bar to catch Harriet entering. She moved with a confident fluidity, standing straight, eyes lighted with a knowing fire. Harriet wore black leggings, clinging to her legs, a black pencil skirt, a white blouse with some sort of floral print on it, and a thin black leather jacket unzipped over top. I mean, she just looked really cool and beautiful and she was hard to ignore. As she made her way through the bar, many people stopped their conversations to look at her, to admire her, or just because whatever aura she was pushing demanded your attention. It was like when a really wealthy person enters a room and you can’t help but look at them. They just look rich.

  “Scoot in,” said Minju. “Maybe we can get her to sit with us.”

  “You’re nuts,” I said. “She’s obviously going to sit with the other faculty.”

  As Harriet got closer, I could see that she had applied bright red lipstick to her lips and reconfigured her softly curled hair into a loose bun. With a black leather bag over her shoulder, she sashayed across the floor of Barcelona and neared us. To all of our amazement, Harriet came to our table first, stood there at the edge, and smiled sweetly as she looked down at us.

  “Hey there,” she said. “Good class tonight.”

  “Yeah,” said Minju absently.

  “Are you ready for next week, Erica?” asked Harriet.

  “Definitely,” said Erica. “I’m pumped about my story.” Harriet laughed softly.

  “Great,” she said, “Penny,” Harriet continued, looking down at me with a slight grin. “Don’t take anything too personally from tonight. That’s just the nature of the workshop.”

  “I know,” I said, looking away from Harriet demurely. “Thank you.”

  “I enjoyed your story,” she went on. “There were issues, of course, but just keep doing what you’re doing. You’ll find an audience.”

  “Do you want to join us, Harriet?” asked Minju, speaking up excitedly.

  “Hmm,” mused Harriet, her eyes darting to the booth next to us where the other faculty sat. “Maybe in a bit,” she said. “I’m going to sit with the other instructors for now.”

  “Cool,” said Minju. “We’ll save a spot for you!”

  And with that, Harriet smiled at us and sauntered the few steps over to the table next to us, lowering herself down into the booth of her peers. I couldn’t help but feel elated that Harriet mentioned she liked my story, even if it might be just a consolation on her part from my harsh critique. Even though the writing program was quite the familiar place, professors going out to the bar with students, everybody on a first name basis, there was something distant about Harriet, like she was on a higher plain, like she was some sort of celebrity. I wondered if the other instructors felt that, too, or if it was just us starstruck students.

  “Can you imagine being tight with her?” asked Erica. “Like, what if you were friends with her and put a book out and she wrote a blurb for you? Do you think that would be an instant best seller?”

  “I think she has the same agent as Joyce Carol Oates,” said Minju. “What if she got you a meeting with her agent?”

  “What if you hung out with her and Oates?” said Erica, wide-eyed.

  “You girls are crazy,” I said, taking a small sip from my gin and tonic. “Just because you become friends with her doesn’t mean you’re going to sign with her agent or hang out with Joyce Carol Oates.”

  “But you could,” said Minju. “Their literary world is very tightly knit.”

  “Why would she want to hang out with any of us anyway?” I said. “We’re just her students. None of us have book deals or are getting literary award nominations. She runs with a more elite crowd.”

  “Don’t crush my dreams,” said Minju with a teasing deadpan. “Don’t kill this for me, Penny.”

  “I’m just trying to bring you back to reality,” I said, looking down, sipping my drink, grinning.

  I glanced over my shoulder and watched as Harriet interacted with the other faculty members in the next booth over. She was quiet, occasionally interjecting her thoughts, but never becoming too loud or emotional. Harriet didn’t have an alcohol drink in front of her, rather, she sipped lightly from her glass of water through a straw. There was something very proper about Harriet, very contained, very reserved. I’d never considered it before, but she kind of reminded me of myself. She seemed like an introvert, content to live in her own world, but prepared to make her voice heard when need be. Although my friends next to me were interested in Harriet simply for her writing connections, I felt a weird affinity toward her as a person that made me want to know more.

  “I think I need another drink,” said Minju, looking down at her empty glass, taking one more dramatic and noisy sip from the straw. “Your turn, Penny,” she said.

  “I don’t know if I’m going to have any more,” I said.

  “I got the first round, babe,” said Minju. “You’re up.”

  “Fine, fine,” I said, straightening up my posture and waiting as Minju slid out of the booth to let me free.

  “Get me a beer,” said Erica, handing me some bills. I scooted on my butt on the pleather seat underneath us until I was at the end of the booth. I stood up and Minju smiled happily at me.

  “I’ll do a gin and tonic,” she said.

  “Gin and tonic and a beer,” I said, recounting my friends’ orders.

  “Let’s grease these wheels!” exclaimed Minju, slipping past me and collapsing down into the booth. She moved next to Erica and the two of them offered up a thankful smile.

  Just as I was about to make my way up to the bar to get our next round of drinks, my eyes moved to the faculty booth to catch a quick glimpse of Harriet. But as I looked over, I was surprised to find Harriet already looking at me, her eyes fierce and intense, and it was then for the first time I noticed how icy blue they were. As Harriet and I gazed at each other, neither of us shyly averting our eyes, I felt an uneasy rumble in my stomach, a tiny cramp, an upset little rustle. Slowly, carefully, Harriet let a smile move over her lips. It was a warm and inviting smile, a knowing smile, a playful smile.

  I offered a weak and uncertain smile in return and then I looked away, looking instead up toward the front of the bar, and began to make my way through the boisterous crowd of writers.

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  DORMITORY DEAREST

  “OKAY,” SHE said, like she was preparing for some task. “Get up here.” She motioned to my legs, indicating I should sit crosslegged like her on the couch. I followed her instructions and the two of us positioned ourselves to face each other.

  “All right,” I said, breathing deeply, feeling my nerves buzz. I was preparing myself for anything, which was a difficult task for me.

  “Look at me,” said Hosannah tenderly. Our gazes met and I tried to follow along as her blue eyes shifted ever so slightly back and forth.

  “Okay,” I said in a subtle murmur.

  Without saying another word, Hosannah slowly leaned her face in closer to me, causing my heart rate to speed and my arms to shake just slightly. As she moved toward me, I watched as her eyes closed and I followed her lead, closing my own eyes. Before I
could even allow my brain to process much more information, I felt Hosannah’s lips touch mine, her plastic glasses bump lightly against my nose, instigating a delicate and gentle kiss. She placed her palm on my leg and leaned into me, releasing a low sigh, her lips wetly smacking against mine in an amorous collision. Although I had actually kissed someone else before, a boy, when I was younger, this kiss with Hosannah, sitting there on my dorm room couch, felt like my very first real kiss. It felt passionate and right.

  I moaned just so as I quickly learned from Hosannah, tilting my head to one side just as she did, focusing on feeling her lips coalesce with my own. Her hand felt heavy and pressured on my leg, in a comforting way, and although my anxiety was running wild it all felt like some necessary release, some detonation of pent up doubt. As I kissed Hosannah, I could feel pleasure and happiness welling up in my heart.

  Just as quickly as it had happened, the kiss came to an end. Hosannah slowly moved her head back and our eyes opened together. I longed for more. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to taste her lips forever. I wanted to feel that closeness and intimacy again and again, a never-ending cascade of sensual pleasure and affinity.

  “How did that feel?” asked Hosannah softly, her eyes dancing with spirit as she searched in me for a hint of what was going on in my head.

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  MY WRITING PROFESSOR: A NOVELLA

  BEFORE I knew it, I had set my phone down on the bed and I was laying back into my pillows, happily beaming, eyes closed, my hand tenderly massaging myself through the thin tensile fabric of my pale blue panties. I could feel my own subtle dampness. It had been a little while since I’d gotten intimately involved with someone. In fact, I hadn’t had a girlfriend since before I moved to Chicago. There was that little one off with this girl Kristen, who I’d met through Erica, but that didn’t really work out and it wasn’t too inspiring anyway.

  But stuff with Harriet, it thrilled me. And I was taking that thrill out on the sex-starved, achy little blossom between my thighs.

  As I kneaded my fingers into myself, my impending wetness lightly soaking through the front of my panties, I thought about what life could be like with Harriet. I pictured her beautiful smile, those piercing blue eyes, her long blonde rivulets of hair twisting and turning down to her shoulders. And I thought of being in her writer scene. I don’t want to make it seem like I was simply interested in her for her connections, that was more something that Minju portrayed. But I can admit that it would be a definite plus. It’s just part of the total package.

  “Mmm,” I happily moaned as I pushed two fingers together up and down my slit, petting myself through the stretchy material, feeling my midsection growing hotter. I squirmed a little bit there in my sheets, tossing my head from one side to the other, wriggling in my bed as I lazily pleasured myself. I had gotten good at it. Practice makes perfect.

  It wasn’t much longer before I was eager to go further. Taking hold of the waistband of my panties, I slid them down my legs and kicked them off my feet, then returning my fingers to my pussy to do a bit more petting. My fingers easily slipped between my lips, rubbing myself back and forth, feeling a little erotic spark each time my wet fingertips hit my clit. After a few of those enticing sparks, I decided to focus my attention on my clit, fingering it around in smooth, soft circles, resting my palm on my trimmed up bush.

  Harriet was foremost on my mind as I masturbated, and I dreamt up all the scenarios I could to make me feel closer to her. I imagined being in class, having her talk about my story, a story that — in my dream — she had already read and edited, remarking to the class how thoughtful and true it was, how refreshing and exciting. We would then wait for the rest of the students to leave once class ended, we’d poke at each other lovingly, we’d kiss and giggle, and then we’d slip out of the classroom hand-in-hand to run off to have fun, just the two of us.

  My fingers, glistening with my own wetness, continued to push through my lips, parting them, moving back and forth. Every so often I would slip my fingers inside of myself, giving myself a few firm thrusts, a couple solid tugs outward to apply pressure, before removing them with that gentle, subtle sound of wet flesh and suction, and returning them to my clit to redouble my stimulation.

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  CRAZY FOR A GEEK GIRL: A NOVELLA

  WE COLLIDED into one another once again, warm skin melting together, arms wrapping around, lips meeting. I was overjoyed by this arousing cupidity, letting my hands do the talking for me as I explored along Henry’s torso, her chest and pierced nipples, and even moving a hand between her legs to grope at her womanhood through the attenuate material of her panties. I laid half on top of her, half to her side, the two of us lustily searching each other with nimble fingers, our lips hotly and moistly pushing together.

  I felt Henry’s hand move down my backside, graze over the thin waistband of my panties, and plug a single finger into the string of my thong. She moved her finger downward, causing the string to lift out from my crack, and she just simply moved her finger slowly up and down along the stretchiness of the string as we fervently kissed.

  “I’m crazy about you,” I sighed between kisses, instantly feeling self-conscious by my impulsive pillow talk. But Henry just giggled and cooed, rubbing her body into mine, our chests pushed together, our joint arousal growing.

  “Hey Netty,” she murmured, removing her finger from my thong string and gently placing her hands on my sides. “I’ve got a secret for you.”

  “Yeah?” I said, leaning down and kissing her neck tenderly.

  “I’m really good at going down here,” she said, on the word “here” her fingers slithered between my legs and gave me a light pinch through the fabric of my panties. “Will you let me?”

  “I would love that,” I said, pulling away from her and rolling over onto my back. Henry eagerly leapt up from her laying position, sitting next to me on her knees, her hands making their way to the elastic band of my thong.

  “Let me take these off,” she said, taking hold of my panties and beginning to slip them off my hips. Henry slowly pulled the small article of clothing down my thighs and then off my feet, giving them an absentminded toss as she returned her attention to my body.

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  THE SEXY LIBRARIAN: A NOVELLA

  WITH ME sitting on the foot of her bed, Esme stood in front of me and without a word she took hold of the bottom of my sweater and pulled it upwards. I raised my arms to allow her to pull it off and over my head, leaving me in just my grey camisole with the built-in bra, shaking my head back and forth a couple of times to straighten out my messed up hair. Esme then took her own tank top up over her head and let it fall to the ground next to my sweater. Standing there in her purple bra and brown herringbone tights, she grinned and threaded her fingers into the waistband of her leggings.

  “Wanna help?” she seductively cooed.

  “Okay,” I mused, hypnotized by her magnetism. Esme reached out and took my hands, bringing them up to her waistband and nodding her head softly. I pushed my fingers into the elastic, taking hold of the fabric, and carefully sliding it down off of her ass and hips. The fabric clung to her legs as I peeled it off her thighs, pushed it down over her knees and then let it fall to her ankles. Underneath she wore a matching pair of panties, light purple and frilly and ornate. In the low light of her bedroom I could see a small wet spot where the fabric covered her mound. I cautiously moved my eyes upward from her panties, over her slim stomach, up to her voluminous chest, and then to her smiling face framed by that stunning fiery hair. Esme made a kissy face down at me.

  “I showed you mine,” she said. “Why don’t you show me yours?”

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  THE BALLERINA: A NOVELLA

  “IS THIS okay?” I said gently into her neck, ending my question with a couple of sweet wet kisses. I rubbed my palm back and forth along her thigh as I awaited her answer.
<
br />   “Mm hmm,” she approved. “Keep touching me.”

  My fingers slid up her shorts and petted Dinah in the crevasse of her leg. I could feel the humidity between her legs growing, moistening her soft, smooth skin. Her shorts had a built-in liner that adhered tightly to her lower body, and I traced my finger along the elastic edge of the liner, half on fabric and half on her skin. Up top, I continued to kiss her along her neck and up to her ear, causing her to shrug slightly and giggle.

  “Tickles,” she said under her breath, a smile across her lips.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I cooed into her neck between kisses.

  “Thank you,” Dinah said mellifluously, her face steeped in happiness and her hands dancing over my back.

  With two fingers, I pried open the tight elastic of her shorts liner and slipped inside of it. Those same fingers began rubbing over her mound, completely shaven and smooth, catching the very top of her pussy lips with every few caresses. Little squeaks of delight came from her mouth as I did this. Dinah grinded up against me now, her hips gyrating and her shoulders slinking back and forth.

  “That feels really nice, Mish,” she murmured.

  “You’re hairless down here,” I said softly into her ear and running a single finger along her pussy lips below causing her to judder.

  “The girls and I waxed each other yesterday,” she said. “It was my first time doing that.”

  “You waxed everything?” I asked.

  “Everything,” she said.

  “Why don’t you take these shorts off and show me?” I said, kissing her neck one more time.

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