The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica

by Barbara Cardy

  The moan escaped Amina’s lips without permission, escaping from tension and loneliness – a long struggle that made its release all the more intense. Soon, the moan turned to gasps, which evolved into sweet murmurs – cresting once, twice, and more, many more times in more sharp cries, more deep moans.

  What the girl was doing was a mystery. But Amina didn’t care. She was there, in that sad hotel, on that warm night, under that cheap blanket, and she didn’t care. She was desired, and – best of all – she was loved.

  They came even faster after that, as if the way had been opened and the coming flowed through that opening in herself. With each, her liberation released her body, and her hands rubbed the girl’s head between her legs, stroked her tiny ears, and allowed her legs to squeeze – ever so slightly.

  How many was a mystery – one of many. In the end, she slept – the opening and the outpouring exhausting her. As she slept she dreamed, but on waking she couldn’t remember anything about it – except she hadn’t been alone. Stanley hadn’t been there, but she hadn’t been alone.

  When she awoke, hard morning sunlight beating through the open window, the girl was gone.

  The front door was closed, but just barely: a narrow seam of hallway showed between the thin wood and the jamb.

  Amina’s dress was twisted and bunched. Standing quickly, she turned it, buttoned it, and smoothed it where it had crept up the cheeks of her ass.

  Then she opened the door wider. The corridor was empty – quiet except for the muffled conversations of static-laced televisions talking to themselves. As she walked, then trotted, then ran towards the stairs, she wanted to call out, to cry the girl’s name . . . and felt a deep tug down inside herself when she realized that she didn’t know it.

  The manager, the Buddha momma was outside, as if the black woman had not moved from her seat near the front door. As Amina trotted down the threadbare hall, the woman kept her rhythmic fanning – steady and undisturbed.

  The street was just waking, slow pedestrians and the unearthly quickness of those used to the early hours. Faces approached and the silhouettes of bodies retreated but, standing on the narrow street, none of them was the girl.

  “Excuse me,” Amina panted, turning back to the big black woman, “but did you see a young woman go out? She was blonde, thin – blue eyes . . .”

  “Ah, girl,” momma said, smiling – a pure beaming light of cheekbones, bright eyes, and a shimmering smile, “she’s gone, she is. Been here long enough, but she’s had ta got back ta where she belongs.”

  “Please, I want to find her. Tell me where she is . . . ?” Amina said, hunger panting her words, making them sharp and forced.

  “Girl, she be where she always be. She be where she come from,” momma said, smile never wavering as she snapped her hymnal fan shut with a clap of rattan and paper. “She be where she be loved. You just be needin’ to be shown that she there, is all. Sometimes you just be needin’ to be shown how to be there for yerself, how ta love yerself.” With the fan, momma leaned slowly forward and tapped – one, two, three – Amina between her breasts, over her rapidly beating heart.

  “If the lonely be bitin’, you just look down here – ” tap, tap, tap “- and know that she be there. She always be there, girl, when you be needin’ ta love yerself.”

  The day was starting. The city waking and starting to move around them. Smiling, leaning forward, Amina kissed the black woman on the forehead. Then she slowly walked off into the beginning of a day – the girl staying with her, keeping her company, loving her, with every step.

  The Art

  Lisette Ashton

  Know the enemy and know yourself ; in a hundred battles you will never be defeated.

  —Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  She put down the book and nodded agreement. The simplistic Chinese philosophy, originally written as a treatise on how to wage and win war, had been introduced to her when she first entered advertising. Its rules could be equally applied to any aspect of life. From politics to psychology and from sales to seduction; anywhere where there was a need to control a subordinate; Sun Tzu’s wise words offered sage counsel and authoritative guidance. And this evening, once she had another conquest in her naked arms, she knew her victory would be a credit to Sun Tzu’s teaching.

  “This is more intimate than I expected.”

  “You were expecting some degree of intimacy?” Toni arched an eyebrow. She looked like she was playing the role of the first female James Bond. Her dark hair and Hollywood smile made her seem exotic, striking and confident. Sally wanted to use the word “desirable” but she wouldn’t let herself choose such a provocative description for another woman. Blushing, and hoping the cosy darkness that surrounded them would hide her embarrassment, she spoke hurriedly.

  “I didn’t mean I was expecting intimacy.”

  Sally used her wineglass to gesture at the single rose in the stem vase on the centre of the table. The movement of her pale fingers made the flames on the hand-carved candles tremble. Because the room was candlelit, the shadows around them broken only by the green eye of the background’s whispering CD player, the brightness flickered and fluctuated like the threat of a squalling tempest.

  “I meant, I didn’t expect . . .”

  “I knew what you meant,” Toni grinned. “I was only teasing.”

  Sally sighed with a moment’s relief.

  “I like to tease,” Toni added. Her sumptuous full-lipped smile twisted mischievously. Her eyes, the mesmerizing brown of melted chocolate, shone with a wicked glint. “You don’t mind being teased, do you?”

  Sally deliberately avoided the question. Instead she asked, “Why did you invite me here this evening?”

  Toni studied her in lingering silence and Sally got the distinct impression she was being appraised. In the depths of Toni’s dark eyes she could see her slender frame, ash-blonde hair and porcelain complexion all met with the woman’s salacious approval. Then Toni was shaking her head, tousling raven tresses across her brow, and Sally’s reflection was blinked away.

  “Maybe I thought we should celebrate your new position?”

  Sally had been promoted to head of advertising as Toni’s successor as Toni moved to a superior position in a different branch. Toni’s excuse would have been plausible if she and Sally had been friends during their two-year working relationship. Instead, because they had only passed a handful of pleasantries, and a daily exchange of curious and speculative glances, Sally thought the woman was keeping something from her.

  “This is a celebratory meal?”

  “Maybe not,” Toni allowed. “Maybe I wanted to say some things to you that couldn’t be said when we were in the office?”

  “What sort of things?”

  “Things I could only say when we were alone together.”

  Sally’s cheeks grew warm. She was briefly thankful for the candlelight that would disguise her blushes. Toni’s voice was soft and seductive. It had grown mellower with each glass of wine. Now, with the remnants of their paella all but finished, and the bottle of chardonnay lying spent between their plates, her words were a velvet caress. The suggestive innuendo she imbued into every syllable was like the sultriest stroke of a tongue against bare flesh.

  “I still don’t understand.” Sally sighed. “What sort of things?”

  “In the office I can’t talk freely about who to trust and who to watch,” Toni began. “Tonight I can tell you about staff and clients with more honesty than if I was measuring my words in the office. Seeing you here I can openly warn you that Jenkins is a backstabber, Johnson is work-shy and Jamal is an eavesdropper. I can tell you, of the portfolios you’ll be handling, the Wingate executive constantly tries to batter the price down, the Walker rep always asks for six more ideas – and then settles on the first one you gave him. And the CEO of Winston’s expects sexual services as well as good advertising copy.”

  Sally blinked at this. She had been about to take a sip of wine but paused: shocked by
the final revelation. “Winston expects sex from you?”

  Toni’s smile was smug with satisfaction. “Winston doesn’t expect anything from me,” she admitted. “Winston believes I’m a dyke.”

  This time Sally knew the candlelight wouldn’t conceal her blushes.

  Toni’s ambiguous sexuality was common fodder for gossip amongst her colleagues. The fact that the woman dressed in power suits, blocky shoes and heavy, masculine overcoats only fuelled the speculation. Although no one had ever seen her linked with another woman she had never been seen with a man either. Her features were attractive and appealing – but better described as handsome than pretty. Also, in Sally’s opinion, there was something about Toni that radiated a predatory sexual allure. Sally had suspected the woman’s speculative interest each time they had been alone – exchanging innocent pleasantries. Hearing her most private thoughts put into words was acutely embarrassing. Struggling to remain calm and try to brush past Toni’s remark, she asked, “Why would Winston believe you were a . . .”

  She tried to use Toni’s word but thought it was too strong.

  Rude.

  Insulting.

  Starting again she asked, “Why would Winston think you’re a lesbian?”

  Toni shrugged and sipped at her chardonnay. “I don’t know,” she admitted airily. Fixing Sally with a challenging stare she asked, “Perhaps it’s because I fuck women?”

  A phrase from Sun Tzu came back to her. For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the supreme excellence. The connotations of that sentiment, and how it could be applied to seduction, resounded through her thoughts.

  The CD player had been crooning a selection of light jazz melodies. The sound of a sultry saxophone whispered from the shadows and added a decadent ambience to the atmosphere. As Toni made her shocking announcement, the disc switched off and the two women were left in thickening silence.

  Toni stood up and placed a hand on Sally’s shoulder.

  Sally struggled not to shrink from the long elegant fingers with their blood-red manicure. She held her breath as Toni stepped past her and disappeared into the shadows to replace or replay the CD. Sally’s heart hammered madly inside her chest. A sheen of nervous perspiration sweated her palms and made her brow glossy. When she was finally able to snatch a breath she hid the gasp of amazement behind her wineglass.

  Dulcet saxophone sounds swept from the shadows.

  The soft whisper of Toni’s stockinged feet, slipping against the polished floor, warned Sally that her host was coming back to the dining table. She caught the sensuous floral musk of Toni’s perfume and then realized the woman stood immediately by her side. For an instant she felt sure, when she turned around, Toni would be naked. She expected to discover that the woman had undressed in the darkness and was coming back to the table with her plump breasts bared and her slender body exposed. It was too easy to imagine her presented as a stripped and irresistible opportunity. Sally almost moaned with relief when she saw Toni still wore her tight-fitting black dress. The lightweight fabric clung to her hips, hung loose over her flat stomach and stretched beneath the swell of her breasts.

  “I didn’t shock you, did I?” Toni asked.

  “Shock?” Sally forced herself to laugh. The sound came out as a nervous chatter; brittle against the smooth ambience of their shared meal; discordant and unmelodic alongside the saxophone solo. “Shock? Me? No. Of course not. Why would I be shocked?”

  Toni beamed at her.

  And then stroked her fingers softly against Sally’s cheek.

  If the caress had been shown in a cartoon comic strip the artist would have drawn the crackle of electricity that sparked between them. If the illustration had been in colour Sally imagined it would have been recreated as a streak of blue-white lightning.

  “It’s sweet of you to say that,” Toni murmured.

  Sally barely heard the words. Her heartbeat pounded so loudly she could no longer make out the straining tone of the saxophone. She intuited that Toni had spoken before gliding back to her seat but her thoughts were still enchanted by the magical electricity that came from the subtle caress. Struggling to find a way of resuming the conversation, not wanting her thoughts to brood on the silence that stretched between them, Sally asked, “Does your being a . . . a lesbian . . . does that stop Winston’s CEO from expecting sexual services?”

  “He has the typical lurid interest of a man,” Toni admitted, picking casually at the remnants of her meal. “And he’s a persistent bastard.” With a scornful smile she added, “He believes he can cure me. And he’s offered to give tips if he was allowed to watch me with another woman. But my being a dyke allows me to rebuke him without him thinking it’s too personal.”

  Sally digested this, aware the conversation was moving away from the frank sexuality that had come with Toni’s revelation. “That’s useful to know,” she said with forced cheer. “Maybe you could give me some tips so I won’t run the risk of losing his business?”

  “Tips?” Toni pounced on the word. “I’d happily give you the full introductory lesson. But you’d need to know up front: it involves eating pussy.”

  Sally stared at her silently.

  She knew she was being watched and weighed. When Toni had said she liked to tease, Sally hadn’t realized the woman was making a genuine confession. She could see that Toni was having fun at her expense and she wondered how far the woman was prepared to go with this daunting game. Adamant that she wouldn’t be intimated, deciding she could be as daring as her hostess, Sally took a deep breath and drained her wineglass. She put it down quickly, hoping the woman wouldn’t see that her hands trembled. Fixing Toni with a firm stare, determined not to show any signs of hesitancy or weakness, Sally said, “Is that what the lesson would involve? It sounds like this evening could prove pleasantly educational.”

  The words were like a starting pistol.

  Toni didn’t bother confirming whether Sally was sure about her decision. Acting with a haste that bordered on the unseemly – as though she had planned the evening specifically for this moment – Toni slipped from her chair and knelt by Sally’s side.

  The woman’s mouth loomed close.

  Disconcertingly close.

  Sally could see the remnants of the white wine glossing Toni’s lips. The lustre was illuminated by the radiance of her Hollywood smile. When Sally raised her gaze the full force of Toni’s mesmerizing chocolate eyes stirred a sickening excitement in her stomach. The muscles inside her sex, usually so quiet and unobtrusive, began to clench and tighten like a grasping fist. She was inordinately conscious of her sex. The smouldering heat that tingled in her labia swelled to a ferocious temperature. And then melted slickly into the crotch of her panties.

  Warm.

  Wet.

  Obscenely excited.

  Sally drew a faltering sigh.

  “The first lesson should begin with the engagement of lips.”

  Toni was so close Sally felt the murmur of the words before she heard them. The gentle warmth of the woman’s breath brushed her lips. Their mouths were already so close Toni’s striking face filled Sally’s world.

  And then they were kissing.

  Feminine lips pressed gently against hers.

  Lightly at first.

  Then with more urgency.

  Then with a tongue sliding into Sally’s mouth.

  Too much. Too quick. Too soon. Too irresistible.

  Sally’s hesitancy retreated as her tongue took battle with Toni’s. Their mouths were locked in an inseparable conflict. Sucking. Kissing. Teasing. Tasting. Exciting. Toni broke the moment, pulling her face away. Her chocolate eyes considered Sally with such suggestive intent there was no longer a need for words. She reached for the buttons on the front of Sally’s blouse and began to pluck them open.

  Sally glanced down at herself and watched the pale flesh being exposed. Her thoughts remained a turmoil of doubts and hesitancy
but she wouldn’t let herself succumb to any of those groundless fears. Sitting rigid as Toni toyed with the clothing, she allowed the blouse to be pulled open and reveal the full white bra that had been hidden beneath. Toni’s fingers stroked her skin, sliding swiftly beneath the upper arc of the bra’s cup to explore the sensitive flesh inside.

  Sally stiffened. She willed herself to smile, anxious in case Toni thought her rigid posture was caused by reluctance. But she felt certain her defensiveness and her attempts to hide it would be transparent to Toni’s experienced eye.

  Snippets from the book came to her. All warfare is based on deception . . . When capable of attacking, feign incapacity . . . Hold out baits to lure the enemy . . . Determined this evening would go as planned, she willed herself to focus on the importance of each remembered truism.

  Sally sat naked on the chair. Her bra and blouse were strewn in the shadows of Toni’s darkened lounge. Her skirt, shoes and panties were somewhere beneath the table. Every pore of her body tingled with mounting surges of desire. Toni had kissed her repeatedly as the clothes were removed. Her mouth pressed against Sally’s lips. Then her throat. And then Sally’s breasts. The woman’s tongue stroked lovingly against the stiff bud of one nipple before she greedily suckled and nibbled. Sparkling rushes of energy fluttered from Sally’s chest. The exquisite thrills were sharp and delicious.

  “Open your legs a little,” Toni suggested.

  Sally nodded.

  Turning on her seat, painfully aware that Toni was clothed while she was now naked, she forced her thighs apart. The movement made her aware of the muscles at the tops of her legs as they grew firm and the skin became taut. The knowledge that she was exposing her body’s most intimate secrets made her heart pound faster. The excitement of revealing herself to Toni, and feeling sure the sight would be appreciated, sired a fresh surge of longing.