The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica

by Barbara Cardy

  Half an hour later, Cream still hadn’t won a pot. She didn’t have much showing, but started raising on the fourth card. Everybody got wary since it was the first hand she’d put anything behind. When she pushed three hundred dollars to the center after getting a look at her fifth card, all but Aphrodite folded.

  Aphrodite smiled as she slid her chips forward, and without another glance at her hole cards she winked at Cream and said, “Call you, and let’s make it worth our while with three hundred more.”

  Cream peeked at her down card and stayed.

  When she saw her sixth card, which was dealt face down, Cream seemed to be suppressing a smile. “Five hundred.”

  Aphrodite was wearing a matte black jumpsuit zipped to a level that showed little cleavage unless she leaned over. She laid her hole cards in front of her and placed an elbow on either side of them. Then she shifted forward until she was certain Cream had a good view and said from somewhere deep down in that jumpsuit, “I’m in.”

  The dealer marked this moment as a turning point in the dynamic. Cream was beginning to unravel.

  The seventh card didn’t seem to interest either woman. They’d apparently built their hands on the first six.

  Cream continued to exhibit great faith in what she was holding. And her composure was back in place. She looked directly at Aphrodite. “One thousand.”

  As Aphrodite counted chips, she cordially said, “A bargain at any price – to get to see yours.” Then she forwarded a second stack. “And how badly do you want to see mine? One thousand more.”

  Cream steadied herself by gripping Cowboy’s forearm with one hand as she put in her thousand with the other, which was shaking, the dealer couldn’t help but notice.

  Aphrodite somehow transformed the act of turning up her cards into a sensual experience. Cream tried to dispel that effect by carelessly flinging hers to the middle of the table. Neither hand was much good. They had boosted the pot to over five thousand dollars on three nines and two pairs. Cream won it with the three nines.

  Cream wasn’t much of a force during the hand after that, and when it was over she excused herself for a few minutes.

  Aphrodite stayed long enough to ante and look at three cards in the following hand before folding and getting up. She addressed herself to Cowboy. “Think I need to powder my nose, too.”

  At a discreet distance, Jacka followed Margaret to her room and, after checking that no one had tailed them, she slipped in the door.

  Wide-eyed, Margaret said in the most controlled voice she could muster, “This is going to work, you know.”

  Jacka twirled her way to the bed and bounced on it hard. “Jesus Christ! It is.”

  “And not only that, my darling, it’s turning out to be fun. I mean, I wasn’t all that nervous once we got started, were you? And the patsies are just normal people.” Margaret looked down at Jacka all kicked back on the bed, and then at her own dress and heels. “Next time I get to be the butch and you get to wear the dress.”

  Jacka hopped to her feet. “Be happy to, sweetheart. But let’s not call them patsies. Isn’t the term ’marks’? Aren’t they our marks?”

  “We’ll have to look that up on the Net. Even if it is marks, though, I don’t think we should call them that because of my brother Mark.”

  “Oh, right. Same thing with patsies for me, because of Patsy Cline.”

  “Didn’t think about that. We’ll look it up.” Margaret checked her new fancy watch. “So, if we stick to our plan to be gone for twenty minutes, we’ve got fourteen left. Now, let’s go over everything real quick.”

  Jacka laced her hands behind Margaret’s back and swayed gently. “When we return to the table, you’ll look flustered and uncertain. I’ll look like the pussy that swallowed the canary.”

  “Yep. Then as soon as we both get a couple of barely worthwhile hands, we get into another unrealistic raising duel. That first one worked so perfectly. Did you see the looks on their faces when we showed our pitiful cards?”

  “I was afraid to look at their faces. Okay, so we repeat that little operation. And I think everybody will be afraid to stay with us again, especially if we raise big enough and none of them has an extremely great hand. One more of those and we go in for the kill. The third time, when one of us is holding an actual first-class hand, they’ll be so convinced we’re playing with some organ other than our brains, a couple of them should stay right with us, no matter how high we raise.” Jacka checked the time before slipping her hand under Margaret’s dress and running it between her thighs. “Eleven minutes to worship the panty hose goddess.”

  Margaret opened her legs a little and Jacka traced figure eights around the crotch seam. “Tickle me just like that. Mmm.” Margaret stepped backward so she could brace herself on the dresser and present herself better.

  Jacka’s fingers stopped. “Oh, no you don’t. First day in our new careers and you want to take a chance on messing it up by fooling around?”

  Margaret encouraged Jacka’s hand back into action. “I’m supposed to look flustered, remember?”

  “Flustered, not satisfied.” Before resuming the lazy eights, Jacka delicately pinched at the silky material in the spot where it was getting damp.

  “I won’t come, promise.”

  A few minutes later, Margaret was ducking out the door, looking undone indeed. “Get to the table several seconds after me.”

  “Right.” Jacka kissed her cheek. “Oh, wait, wanted to ask you something. What’s your guess on the dealer? Lesbian?”

  “Not a doubt in my mind.”

  Cream was all business as she took her seat. A quick survey told her that Michelin Man had enjoyed a streak of luck while they were away. She took the first pot and was raking it in as Aphrodite came back to the table radiating oneness with the universe. The moment Aphrodite was back on the scene, Cream’s composure went on a downward spiral. Between glancing uncertainly at Aphrodite every few seconds and the obvious effort of controlling the tremble of her hands, Cream did not seem to have her head in the game. Aphrodite just grinned.

  Next hand, the dealer had to declare a misdeal after incorrectly distributing the third card face down. In keeping with house rules, the contents of that pot were carried over to the next one.

  After enduring three deals under these edgy conditions, Cowboy asked Cream if she’d like to get some air.

  “I just had some air. What I’d like is to play poker.” She glanced at her hole cards again and said to Fly Guy, “See your fifty and raise one hundred.”

  Fly Guy called and laid down his three nines.

  “That beats my,” Cream fumbled to check her down cards again, “my pair of sevens.”

  Gramps, who had folded his pair of kings the first time Fly Guy raised, said, “Well for shit sakes,” and glared at Aphrodite.

  Fortunes waxed and waned over the next two hours until Cream and Aphrodite performed their battle of wills again in a raising contest that put almost six thousand dollars on the table after it was down to just the two of them. As had happened the first time, Cream won with a marginal hand.

  Then Cream got a hand without much showing, but she started raising early in increments unevenly divisible by twenty-five dollars. That was the signal that she might be going for the kill.

  By the time the fifth card was dealt, everybody was still in and raising hot and heavy.

  When the bet came to her, Cream glowered at Aphrodite and said, “One thousand to stay.”

  Gramps was next, and he reflected a while before calling.

  Aphrodite shoved her chips to the center without hesitation.

  Michelin Man stayed.

  Fly Guy eagerly got in on the action.

  Cowboy stayed.

  Everybody was in.

  The pot held well over four thousand dollars profit and there were two more cards to be dealt.

  Cream, seemingly unconcerned that the others were still alive, challenged Aphrodite to spend two thousand for the sixth card. Aph
rodite did it smiling. Gramps got out that round, but the rest called. Ten thousand profit in the pot.

  For the seventh card, Cream went to twenty-five hundred and Aphrodite raised that another thousand. After Michelin Man, Cowboy and Fly Guy were all in, the center of the table was piled high with over twenty thousand dollars more than Cream and Aphrodite had invested.

  Turning up her hole cards for mainly Aphrodite to see, Cream proudly declared, “Queen high flush.”

  Grandpa was out, so Aphrodite was next. She shrugged as she displayed three twos.

  Michelin Man moaned as he showed his three tens, and Fly Guy threw in his three kings so hard they almost scooted off the table. Cowboy was embarrassed to show the lousy two pair he’d stuck with too long, but after a certain point he’d have felt like a sissy for folding.

  As Cream stacked her loot, their dealer broke the seal on a new deck and said, “Luck for the lady tonight.”

  Cream said, “Beginner’s luck, I guess.”

  Aphrodite nodded solemnly once before aiming that smug grin at Cream and assuring her, “Beginners do get lucky. Sometime.”

  After playing conservatively for another half hour, Cream declared her intention to play one more hand and then cash in.

  Aphrodite again excused herself from the table the first hand after Cream left.

  Margaret had been in their room for over fifteen minutes when the phone rang.

  “It’s me, sweetheart.”

  “Jacka, what’s taking so long? I thought we said you’d only stay for one more hand.”

  “I did, but there’s a little complication. Your dinner date is following me.”

  “Crap. We didn’t plan for that. We have some honing to do, but can you believe this? We’re really going to make this work, Jacka.”

  “How much did we clear?”

  “Eighteen thousand four hundred, plus or minus what you won or lost.”

  “I lost six hundred.”

  “Then that’s a grand total of seventeen thousand and eight hundred dollars for one night’s work. And we’re working together. And it was fun. Jacka, I’m so glad we quit our jobs to follow this dream.”

  Jacka checked the bar mirror to make sure he was still there. “Can’t wait to get to the room and count it with you.”

  “No counting, darling, it’s a cashier’s check. This isn’t the Old West, you know.”

  “Feels like it, though. Look, I’m going to try one more time to beat Sugar Pops Pete to an elevator.”

  “What do you mean, ’one more time?’ Have you already tried that?”

  “Yeah, but he stuck close and got right on with me. Didn’t say a word.”

  “Jacka, this is an order, do not get on another elevator with that man. We don’t know that he won’t hurt you.”

  Jacka thought it over for a few seconds. “No, I think he’s on some mission to preserve your honour. Deny me at your gate and all that.”

  “Whatever the case, we can’t take a chance on him getting our room number.”

  Blowing out a long sigh, Jacka offered, “What if I hop in a cab and ride around for ten minutes, then get dropped off at the rear entrance and sneak through the other side of the lobby?”

  “That would be smart. We’ll figure out a way to avoid this in the future.” Margaret’s voice softened. “But a five-minute ride should do it, don’t you think?”

  Jacka laughed. “You’ve started without me, haven’t you?”

  “Maybe. I didn’t think it would hurt to get back to where we left off earlier before going back to the game.”

  “So, what are you doing? Still wearing the hose?”

  “Mmm hmm. I’m imitating what you were doing.”

  “Please don’t come without me. Listen, it could take a couple of minutes to get the taxi. You have my permission to keep tickling yourself for ten more minutes. After that, I want you to lie back on the bed with your legs spread wide for me and imagine in great detail what I’m going to do when I get there. Keep your panty hose on, play with your breasts if you like, but do not touch anywhere near your cunt after that time is up.”

  “Hurry, darling.”

  Ages later, when Jacka’s next call came in, Margaret forgot her telephone etiquette. “Where the hell are you?”

  “You didn’t come, did you?”

  “No, but if you’re deliberately—”

  “It’s not deliberate, believe me. I’m as hot to get there as you are to have me.”

  Margaret snickered. “Highly doubtable.”

  “So sorry, sweetheart. But the cab got caught in the gridlock from some accident and I don’t know this city well enough to get out and walk, and I’m so sorry.”

  “Are you back now?”

  “In the lobby. Just me, the clerk and your boyfriend. I don’t think we should do the pick up a guy part next time.”

  “But it’s essential to establishing the femme’s straightness.”

  “We’ll figure it out later. Anyway, do you have another idea?”

  “Yes. First, let me make myself come. Then, you go to the desk and book another room. Tip the clerk to send a bellboy up to it with you. I don’t want you on an elevator alone with the weirdo. He can’t lurk around in a hallway like he can in the lobby. If he follows you up there, call security.”

  “Margaret, I know you’re suffering, but please wait for me. And I think your condition is clouding your judgment here. We can’t attract attention to ourselves by calling security.”

  “Then you think of something.”

  Jacka caught sight of their dealer walking toward the revolving doors, probably on her way home. “No time for details right now, baby, but I think the cavalry just rode in. Tell you what, you have exactly ten strokes to spend on yourself – anyplace you like. No more. I should be there soon.”

  The truth, or half of it, occasionally works as well as a lie. When Jacka explained that the cowboy was blocking her access to the blonde, and asked the dealer to distract him just long enough for an elevator door to close, she was happy to oblige.

  Jacka walked in the room as Margaret was enjoying a well-earned orgasm. When it was over, Jacka commented, “Should have made that five strokes, I see.”

  Margaret propped herself on her elbows and said, “True. I couldn’t have done it in five.” She pushed her hair back and held out a hand to Jacka. “Hey, want to order something to eat and gawk at our cashier’s check?”

  “Not quite yet.” Jacka lowered the zipper on her jumpsuit while saying, “Take off those hose. You haven’t gotten your best hand of the night yet.” When they were both stripped and snuggled under the blanket, Jacka squeezed three fingers together and pressed them into Margaret. “Nice preparation, sweetheart. I feel very welcome.”

  “I’m so ready for this.”

  Jacka used her knee to urge Margaret’s thighs farther apart and pushed deeper as she added another finger. She pulled back until she was almost out and then thrust back in with just the right force to drive Margaret wild. Without breaking rhythm, Jacka whispered, “You get this for as long as you want before I come all the way in. Just tell me when to give you more.”

  “I want this for ever.”

  Jacka’s voice was charged with the smile that swept over it. “Then I’ll never quit.” She twisted a little on the next entry so that her knuckles rolled across Margaret’s most sensitive spot.

  Margaret was clutching the sheets with all her might, groping for the strength to handle so much stimulation. Jacka lived for this part, for the ability to force Margaret into actually needing courage to deal with the pleasure she was giving her. Over and over, Jacka pierced her, varying the pressure, speeding up, slowing down and twisting, until Margaret implored, “All the way, darling.”

  For an unbearable moment, Jacka separated from her completely. Then, with her fist poised the way she knew Margaret could take it all in, she eased it just past the opening, holding there long enough to pick up on the strength of the pulse. She made four teaser att
empts at full entry, rocking her fist as if to go in, but pulling back before really trying.

  Her arms weak from clinging to the sheets, Margaret rammed her pelvis forward and made a faint effort to grab Jacka’s wrist and force it in.

  “Relax, Margaret. You’ve been so brave. Relax, and I promise to fuck you until you’re done.”

  Margaret dropped her hand to her side and loosened her hips. Jacka whispered, “That’s my girl,” and penetrated smoothly until Margaret’s cunt enfolded her fist. Jacka’s hand pumped a gentle rhythm in time to Margaret’s pulsing muscles until they gathered strength, stilled for a moment and erupted in wave after wave of release.

  Later, when Margaret began to stir, Jacka asked, “So, did that beat your queen high flush?”

  “Hands down.”

  Confessions After Midnight

  L. C. Jordan

  “Happy birthday to you!”

  The familiar refrain rang out from a small group gathered around a table directly across from me. The restaurant was nearly empty; Thursdays were usually slow and I had commandeered a corner booth with my newspaper and tea.

  Lowering the editorial section, I watched as my head waitress Gina carefully sat a cake down in front of an auburn haired woman seated at the table. It wasn’t unusual for customers to include a request for a birthday cake in their reservations. I estimated that nearly eighty percent of the time the cakes were topped with an equally frightening and embarrassing amount of candles. This one however had a single candle flickering in the middle of the whitecaps of frosting.

  The woman’s face was slightly flushed, whether from laughter or nerves I didn’t know. She looked around her circle of companions, spoke a handful of soft words that I couldn’t hear, and in one quick breath extinguished the flame. Her friends applauded their approval and smiling, she glanced up in my direction and caught me staring. Startled at the unexpected eye contact, I could only shrug my shoulders, grin like an idiot and mouth happy birthday.

  I was about to raise my paper again as an effective barrier when a voice close to my ear caused me to jump a good three inches off my bench.