Jennifer's Triad

by Laura Anne Turner

  Emilia pulls open the flap of our tent, and we get out of our clothes as fast as we can, all weariness gone once we’re naked. Nellie, Emilia, and I spend the next hours making love to one another till we really, really can’t go on any longer, and fall asleep in a heap of bodies and tangled limbs.

  The next morning I’m the first of my triad to wake up, for once. I haven’t gotten much sleep, but at least I’m not hung over. I sigh and smile as I glance at Emilia and Nellie, who are still sleeping next to me, and I begin to think about all the strange twists and turns my life’s taken in the recent past.

  When did it all start? Maybe when my friend Martin invited me to join his band? Or was it when my crush on my classmate Lena Davids led to me realizing that I loved girls? Or when I fell in love with my amazing girlfriend Emilia? Anyway, I’ve become ‘Jet-Black Jenny Coldheart’, and I fell in love with Nellie, without ever stopping to love Emilia. Now the three of us are all lovers, and we’re all happier together than I could have imagined.

  And there’s more! I have a new home. I have a new family, the big, loving family that ‘The Coldhearts’ have become. They threw me the best birthday party ever, and I’ve gone on a vacation with all of them. This vacation has made us all more of a family than before, including Tanja and Kira, the latest additions to our family.

  And too, thanks to my old high school teacher Mr. Britzinger, who never stopped believing in me, I’ve finished my first semester at college.

  For the first time I remember I’m truly happy and satisfied with my life, and for the first time I’m looking forward to the future, eager to see what direction my life will take from now.

  Putting my arm around Emilia, and resting my head on her shoulder, I snuggle closer to Nellie, too. I bask in the warmth of my lovers’ bodies, and I close my eyes, feeling utterly content, as I go back to sleep.

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  ABOUT THIS BOOK AND ITS AUTHOR

  Jennifer’s Triad is my fifth published lesbian romance, and the first time I wrote a sequel to one of my previous books. It’s been an amazing experience to dive back into Jenny’s world. It is also the first time I leave the framework of conventional dyadic relationships.

  I hope you liked the story of Jennifer’s Triad. If so, please leave a positive review on your local amazon website. I’d also appreciate a positive recommendation on your social media. In case you didn’t like the story, I say thank you for giving it a try.

  Prior to Jennifer’s Triad, I published the lesbian novels Auralyssa and Right Woman Wrong Time, which tell the stories of adult women, while Jennifer’s Crush, and Orange and Blue are Coming Out novels. All romances are available on Amazon Kindle and for free on Kindle Unlimited.

  Also available on Amazon Kindle / for free on Kindle Unlimited are my lesbian erotic short stories The Campfire, Hotel Hobbies, and The Picnic. If you are interested in my lesbian erotica only I recommend my short story bundle The Final Cut. It contains the previously unpublished title story, plus the three previous stories. They narrate some erotic exploits of the two main characters from Right Woman Wrong Time, Rebecca and Thalia.

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  LA Turner was born and raised in Southwest Germany. Already as a child she was a bookworm and fell in love with the English language as soon as she began to learn it at school. Since then she has read tons of German, English, and American literature. She made her first literary attempts by writing lyrics for a rock band of which she was a member.

  While working within Life Sciences to earn her living, she likes to read and write in her leisure time. Laura Anne lives with her partner in Southern Germany.

  Follow me on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/LATurner_author

  Check out my author’s website on https://www.amazon.com/author/la_turner

  JENNIFER’S CRUSH

  I woke up in a sweat. I looked at the clock on my bedside table, it was 4.30 am. My head dropped back on my pillow with a groan. She had haunted my dreams again and left me breathless. This silly crush on my classmate Lena Davids began to drive me crazy. I was aroused and I needed some kind of relief. So I began to touch myself.

  Before my mind’s eye I began to recall every naughty detail of my dream. Her gray-blue eyes are impossibly close and her soft lips with that dark red lipstick touch mine. The kiss deepens as I open my mouth to welcome her tongue. Our tongues begin a slow dance that will take up momentum. I clench my fingers into her thick dark brown hair. She cups my breasts and begins to play with one stiff nipple tugging and pinching it. I begin to moan into her mouth. Lena does not break the kiss as her one hand moves down to the waistband of my panties. I feel her hand slip inside my panties and she cups my swollen flesh. I’m so wet and ready. I lift my butt to support her in pulling down my underwear. She enters me tentatively with one finger at first, but then she follows the rhythm of my wiggling hips with two fingers inside of me. While I play with her erect nipples she begins to touch my clit. I cannot suppress a loud moan. I bite my lips as she kisses her way down my chest, down to my belly, and finally I feel her hungry mouth on the very place I need it most. She licks and sucks my clit and I try so hard to delay my climax, but it is too late – I cum into her mouth with a powerful release that leaves me panting on my bed.

  How could it be that a girl caused such sensations in me? I had never considered myself a lesbian. I was a freak, yes, that’s what I would easily admit. But I did not consider myself to be a lesbian freak. However, how could I be sure about this, considering what I had just imagined? It was 5am in the morning and I had one more hour before I had to get up and go to Goethe High School, where I would see her again.

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  I felt tired and exhausted when I went to school that day. Why the hell did I have this silly crush on Lena Davids? In history class I saw her again. She sat in the very front row of the classroom together with her friends Beatrice and Paulina. The latter seemed to be the latest addition to her fan group. Since our senior year at Goethe High School had started Lena and Paulina seemed to be inseparable. This was new, because they had not been close friends the previous years. Indeed the two of them seemed to be very close now. And I could not help myself, but I began to believe there was more than friendship between the two girls.

  I stared at Lena’s back during history class. Today she had her dark-brown hair in a messy ponytail that left some strands of hair around her face. She wore a black sweatshirt and faded jeans. And like Paulina Janssen she had an orange scarf around her neck. Did this damned orange scarf have a meaning? Was there a secret behind them wearing scarfs in the same color?

  While Mr. Britzinger, our history teacher, talked about the Weimar Republic my thoughts began to drift away.

  I could not exactly remember when this silly crush on Lena Davids had begun. Earlier this school year she had had to present a paper in our German class. It was something about a book by Hermann Hesse. I still remember that light flush on her cheeks when she started out with her presentation and I could no longer get concentrated on what she was talking about. I was too much focused on her pink lips, her grey-blue eyes, and the way she moved her hands. At one point she tucked a strand of her thick dark-brown hair behind her ear. It was a small gesture only, but I found it adorable.

  The next thing that came to my mind was I remembered her play soccer on the girls’ varsity team. She looked gorgeous in her white shorts and the black and red striped jersey, which represented our school colors. What I considered as particularly cute was her habit of pulling her black and red striped stockings up above her knees so that only a small patch of naked skin remained visible between the seam of her shorts and the upper end of her stockings. Or was it the way she moved on the green soccer field and the decisive way in which she tackled her opponents, which attracted me? Or was it the way she passed the ball to her teammates and it nearly always was a perfect pass?

  Or did I develop that crush on her when I watched her waiting tables at the ‘Black Bean’ coffee lounge? She looked so cute in the long dar
k-red apron with the ‘Black Bean’ logo on it and the tight fitting polo shirt in yellow. I liked the way she moved between tables and how she was so focused on her patrons, always trying to put a smile on her face even when she was moody.

  “Ms. Meier can you help us here?”

  I nearly jumped from my chair when I heard Britzinger say my name. I had completely missed his question. All faces turned around to look at me. I began to flush.

  “Uh, could you repeat your question, please, Mr.Britzinger?”

  “I only asked you to repeat what I last said about president Friedrich Ebert.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear that.”

  “Ms. Meier, it seems you are not really interested in German history. Please be so kind as to prepare an essay on president Friedrich Ebert until next week. I’ll give you the exact topic after class.”

  Fuck! That’s embarrassing. Not only have I zoned out completely – it is embarrassing to where my imagination has drifted.

  I felt myself blush and saw the derisive smirk on many faces around me. I looked directly at Lena who had also turned her head around to face me. There was no sign of contempt on her face. When our gazes met she turned her face back to the teacher again.

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  When I came home later that day – it was a Friday – a wave of stale air and cold cigarette smoke attacked me as soon as I opened the entrance door to our apartment. It was the usual smell in our flat. My mother was a heavy smoker – she used to smoke 30 cigarettes per day or even more. I hated it. She probably was still at work or hanging out at some after work party to hook up with just another one in what seemed like an endless series of men.

  Since I had had lunch at the school cafeteria I didn’t stop in the kitchen and went directly to my bedroom. On my way I passed my brother’s room. There was loud music playing inside. My brother Chris was three years younger than me. I used to take care of him since our mother had chased our dad away some 5 or 6 years ago. However, I was not in a mood to see my brother now and opened the door to my room. It was the only place in our apartment where smoking was not allowed. Of course my closed bedroom door could not prevent the smoke from seeping in, but the air was still cleaner than in the kitchen and the living room. I plopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Later this evening I’d go to our weekly rehearsals of our band. Music was one of the only things that kept me going. I played bass guitar in a heavy rock band. My first acoustic guitar had been a birthday present from my dad. It had been shortly before he left the family, because he could no longer stand mom’s affairs with other men. I had to admit it - my mom was a slut.

  I had then learned how to play guitar together with my best friend from the neighborhood – Martin. He was my age and we knew each other since elementary school. At the age of 16 Martin founded his first band and it was clear from the beginning that I would become a band member. The only thing was that I had to switch from guitar to bass.

  At 6pm the doorbell rang. It had to be Martin who was picking me up for our rehearsal. I went to open the door.

  “Hey Blackie, you ready?” Martin grinned. He had adopted a habit of calling me ‘Blackie’ because of my jet-black hair and my preference for black clothes. Martin himself was tall and lanky with a mop of curly dark-blond hair and blue-grey eyes.

  “Sure,” I said. “Just let me get my bass. Want to come in for a moment?”

  “Nah, I’d rather wait outside. Hurry up.”

  I made a beeline to my bedroom and picked up the instrument case with my bass guitar. We put it into the backseat of Martin’s VW and hopped into the car. Martin started the engine and pulled into the street.

  “How was your day?” I asked him.

  “Thank God it’s Friday. I could leave earlier today.” Martin was in an apprenticeship as a car mechanic at a service station.

  “How was yours?” he asked me in return.

  “Crappy. I got some extra homework because I zoned out in history class.”

  “Gross. I hope our rehearsal will be fine though.”

  I nodded. A few minutes later we arrived at Marlon’s home. Marlon was our keyboard player. Our practice room was in the basement of his parents’ home. Martin pulled the car into the drive. We left the car, took our instruments, and climbed up the three steps to the entrance door. I rang the bell and immediately Max, Marlon’s dog, began to bark. A few moments later Marlon opened the door with Max sneaking around his knees. Marlon was a nerdy looking guy with short dark brown hair and black-rimmed glasses.

  “Hi guys, come in,” he said. He hugged me briefly and shook hands with Martin. I petted Max who excitedly jumped around me. “Robin and Emilia are not yet here,” Marlon said. Robin was our drummer and Emilia our singer and Robin’s girlfriend.

  “Let’s go downstairs anyway.”

  Just as we turned around to the stairway we heard loud voices from beyond the closed entrance door. It had to be Robin and Emilia and it sounded like they were fighting again. Marlon turned around and opened the door before they had even rung the bell. Robin and Emilia were standing outside. Emilia was gesticulating wildly and her blue eyes were puffy and moist. Emilia was a beautiful, leggy redhead with long dark-red hair, and an incredible voice. I liked Emilia a lot and it hurt to see her in distress.

  Robin had his hands in his pockets and looked to the ground. Robin had shoulder length blonde hair and was a notorious womanizer, even though I never understood why so many girls seemed to fall for him. When the door opened Emilia fell silent. They both said “Hi” simultaneously and entered the house. The guys went downstairs first and I waited for Emilia to follow. I hugged her and noticed she was stifling her tears. I also realized how good she smelled and how soft and warm her body was. It was a bit confusing.

  “You okay?” I asked her in a low voice.

  She slowly shook her head, but didn’t say anything.

  “Maybe we should talk later?” I offered.

  “Maybe,” she nodded. Then we went downstairs to our rehearsal room. The room was full of instruments and equipment. The guys had already opened their bottles of beer and Marlon threw the bottle opener in my direction as soon as I opened the door. I caught it with one hand and opened two bottles, one for Emilia and one for me. I took a big gulp. As soon as all band members had taken their respective places we began to play our first song. Martin started our rehearsal with a slow love song today and we followed along. Emilia began to sing her first part until the chorus was due, when suddenly her voice broke and tears trickled down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t go on,” she whispered into the microphone. The band stopped and Robin threw his drumsticks into a corner.

  “God damn it, Emilia, take a grip,” he yelled from behind his drums. Emilia turned around and ran to the door. “Fuck you, you bastard,” she screamed back at him, before she slammed the door behind her. There was a momentary silence.

  I quickly put down my bass guitar and ran after her. I caught up with her just outside the entrance door of the house. Since we had December it was cold outside. Emilia squatted on the porch and tears ran down her cheeks. I cowered down beside her.

  “What is it, Emi, can I help you?”

  She shook her head. “It’s Robin. He’s such an asshole. He cheated on me again with that fucking bitch Andrea. It hurts.”

  I took her in my arms. “It’s a shame. You’re so beautiful and nice and I can’t understand why he would cheat on you. You deserve better than that.” Again I realized how soft and warm she felt and somehow her smell was intoxicating.

  What the fuck?

  She cried on my shoulder until her tears finally stopped. None of the guys showed up in the meantime. At one point we both began to shiver because of the cold.

  “Do you think you could make it through the rehearsal or do you want to leave?” I asked Emilia.

  “I will make it. I’m going to shout out all the frustration and anger I’m feeling. And I’m going to ditch Robin.”

  “C’mon,
I’ll help you to get up.”

  We both stood up and went back downstairs to the basement. The guys were talking about rock bands and drinking beer as we entered the room again. They looked up when we came back. Robin wanted to hug Emilia, but she pushed him away.

  “Don’t you dare to ever touch me again; c’mon guys, let’s rock,” she said to the others.

  We restarted our rehearsal, but this time with a heavy rock song and Emilia shouted her frustration and anger into the room. It was surprising how much emotion her angry voice added to the songs. I got lost in the music more and more and began to bang my head along with the rhythm.

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  “Want to have a drink with me, Jenny? I need one and some good company,” Emilia asked me when our rehearsal ended.

  “I’d love to, but I don’t want to drag my bass guitar to a bar.“

  “You can leave it in my apartment. There are plenty of bars and pubs in the area where I live,” Emilia said. “We can take the tram, the stop is not far from my place.”

  I hugged Martin and said good-bye to Marlon and Robin. The guys wanted to hang out a bit longer. Robin didn’t try to keep Emilia from leaving and she didn’t give him any further look. I took my bass guitar and left together with her.

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