The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica

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The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica Page 49

by Barbara Cardy


  The truth was, he was from Bristol and he never advertised the fact; he had an image to keep up in order to get the girls, after all.

  The show was low on listeners so management had turned to controversial guests to boost the figures a little.

  Freddy was desperate to get it going so he could play music and leave the building for a cigarette.

  “Good evening, all you cats out there. Tonight we have two guests who are here to slug it out on the air: Angie and Rebecca! Welcome to the show, ladies!”

  Angie had dark straight shoulder-length hair, was of petite build and had large breasts that spilled out of a tight vest top. Her leather mini skirt was virtually non-existent, with two immaculate legs protruding from it.

  The two women nodded at the presenter through the thick glass partition; they could barely make him out in the dark studio but he was larger than life in their headphones.

  Then they realized that they had to reply through the microphones in front of them.

  “Good evening!” they said in unison.

  “Angie, you have a doctorate in metaphysics and scored high marks – so why did you become a porn star?” said the almost hidden figure in the adjacent room.

  “Well, it pays well and the hours are not too long. And I get to fuck lots of really hot men and women.”

  “Whoa!” yelled Freddy, “No bad language on the air, please! Sorry, listeners!”

  Angie gave an embarrassed smile. “Sorry guys!” she said through gritted teeth.

  Freddy continued, “So how did you get into it in the first place?”

  “I was short of money when I was studying and a photographer approached me. He got me lots of work and it just seemed to progress into low-budget porno and then to where I am now!” She had a quiet voice and a smile that could melt chocolate at ten paces.

  The other woman was a stark contrast to her.

  “So, Rebecca, you are a lawyer and a campaigner against pornography. What do you think of Angie’s profession?”

  Rebecca had short blonde hair and was dressed very conservatively. She was thick-set and tall with a look about her that would make a headmaster shrink.

  “I think she’s trash and a victim of exploitation in modern society!” Her expression never changed on her chiselled features.

  Angie spoke up quickly. “Modern society? But pornography has been around for thousands of years! Look at the pots found that were produced by the Egyptians. Since the camera first captured a still or moving image, it has been used to produce nudity and sexual imagery – pornography!”

  Rebecca suddenly realized that she was not up against some dumb bimbo and it infuriated her. “Men use these women like pieces of meat for their own enjoyment!”

  “But most of my movies are written, produced and filmed by women!” She pointed up to the air conditioning unit in the ceiling. “Look! There goes another of your pointless theories, and you a lawyer? Listen, honey – I fuck people for money and you fuck people for money so that makes us even, right?”

  The veins on Rebecca’s fore head were beginning to show as she scowled at Angie.

  “This isn’t the eighteenth century any more, so do us all a favour and get yourself laid once in a while. A good orgasm now and again will lower your blood pressure.” Angie wore a smug look on her face.

  Freddy was lapping it all up, for this was quality radio: Beauty and the Beast, and the Beast was losing!

  You could almost feel the rumble as Rebecca’s blood boiled.

  There was an awkward silence in the room, so Freddy decided to break it. “Okay, let’s take a break for some music now. Catch you cats in just a minute, so do not touch that dial!” And finally he put a music track on.

  “I’m out of here. I need the toilet,” said Angie as she stood up and clicked across the room in her high heels.

  Rebecca looked her up and down contemptuously as she left.

  “. . . Oh, yes, and you should have seen the look on the frigid bitch’s face! Anyway, I’d better get back before the track finishes. Ciao!” Angie’s mobile phone blipped as she closed it and she stood up in the small toilet cubicle.

  She opened the door to find herself face to face with Rebecca, who did not look too happy.

  “Frigid bitch, eh? Well, that shows just how little you know about me, doesn’t it?”

  Even with her high heels on, Angie was still nowhere near Rebecca’s height; she was suddenly feeling a little vulnerable all of a sudden.

  “You, little lady, are a menace and should be punished!” Rebecca took a step towards her.

  “Uh, how?”

  Rebecca looked around the washroom.

  “Go and lean over that sink. Now!”

  Angie obeyed with a half smile on her face.

  She leant over the sink and took hold of the taps; Rebecca came up behind her and took hold of her hips.

  She pulled them sharply so Angie had to take small urgent steps backwards; she was bending over now and her buttocks were tight against Rebecca’s midriff. Angie looked at the spectacle in the mirror.

  “If I had a strap-on, I’d fuck the intelligence out of you!” Rebecca smiled for the first time. Angie looked up at her eyes in the reflection.

  “You must get it every day, then?” The smile quickly vanished and she stood aside.

  She lifted up Angie’s tight skirt to reveal her naked flesh; her tight little buttocks were perfect and she wore no underwear.

  Rebecca rested her left hand on the small of Angie’s back and brought her right one sharply down to her left cheek. She smacked it so hard that it echoed around the tiled room.

  “Mmm!” Angie purred, and then her right cheek was struck just as hard.

  “Oh, God yes!” Her hand massaged Angie’s cheeks in turn and then Rebecca brought her hand down sharply again – once for each side.

  “Ooh!” Rebecca brought down both hands at once, and then she did it again.

  The pert little cheeks that had made Angie’s first million were beginning to go red; her mouth was wide open as she watched her own reflection in the large mirror before her.

  Rebecca got down onto her knees and ran her tongue over the smarting areas of the cheeks and felt the heat from them. She took hold of Angie’s ankles and pulled them further apart; Angie’s heels slid across the carpet and made her unsteady for a second. Her pert little cheeks wiggled in the process.

  Rebecca stood up again and placed a hand inside Angie’s thighs, they made eye contact and shared a smile. Angie’s smile changed to a gasp as a hand was brought down against her cheek again; Rebecca’s other hand slowly slid upwards until it was next to an already drenched pussy.

  The palm of her hand pressed against it and began to massage the wetness.

  “Ooooh, my God!” Angie moaned as her pussy was tended to with an expert touch.

  Rebecca moved her hand back and forth and then curled up her middle finger, it slid into Angie’s pussy with ease and she started to stir it around inside her.

  Angie gripped harder onto the taps and rested her head onto her right arm; her eyes were tightly shut and mouth wide open, giving out short pants of breath.

  Rebecca was massaging her own breast through her top; her nipples had become prominent through the thick material and she too was breathing deeper than ever.

  Freddie was tearing his hair out; his girl who answered the phones was missing, as were his guests, and any minute the station manager could be on the phone asking questions.

  “Hey cats, we seem to have a little glitch with the microphones so our guests can’t be heard right now, but they are still in discussion and they will give an outcome when we are back in business. Stay right there, folks.”

  Rebecca hitched up her skirt and got down onto her knees. Angie looked up to see what she was doing and why she had stopped.

  Before she knew it, she had a tongue flicking against her wet pussy lips.

  “Mmm!” She couldn’t believe what was happening.

  Reb
ecca was parting the wet lips with her tongue while stroking her own pussy; it slid in as she pressed lightly against her clit.

  Angie could feel Rebecca’s tongue against her pussy walls; she explored inside with her mouth pressed hard against the soft shaven skin while gripping her thighs.

  Rebecca’s tongue moved a little faster as it glided in and out of Angie, whose body convulsed as she was mouth-fucked by Rebecca. She felt a climax was near.

  With her free hand, Rebecca undid her top to reveal her bra. As Angie turned to look, she slid it up to reveal a huge breast with a rock-hard nipple.

  As Rebecca squeezed her own breast, Angie watched and could hold back no more.

  “Arghhhhhhhh!” Angie came hard into Rebecca’s mouth and her whole body shook; the mirror had frosted over with her breath.

  Rebecca stopped and stood up; she took Angie’s arm and pulled her back upright.

  She was spun around on her heels and embraced tightly; before she knew it, Rebecca was kissing her deeply and passionately. Numb with disbelief, Angie accepted a long tongue deep within her mouth and followed suit.

  When they broke contact, Rebecca stood back and undid her top completely; she lifted out her remaining breast, held both up and looked at Angie. Angie didn’t need telling and walked forward to take a nipple into her mouth.

  She sucked it and then rolled her tongue around it; Rebecca’s jaw fell open as she watched in the mirror. She held a pained expression but it was really ecstasy; her eyes snapped shut as Angie gave a light bite of her nipple.

  “Ooh!” She stroked Angie’s neck as her stiff nipple vanished in and out of soft lips and she pinched the remaining one with her fingers.

  She looked down and watched the pretty little face lovingly lick and suck her formidable breasts. It was time for more, though.

  She took Angie’s chin and lifted her head up to make eye contact.

  “I’m not finished, yet. Get on your knees. For now you are my toy and it’s playtime!”

  Angie obeyed with a big smile and Rebecca lifted her skirt right up, placed a foot onto the sink edge and slid her panties aside to reveal a trimmed pussy that was glistening in the artificial light.

  She parted the lips with two fingers and played with her left breast with the other.

  Angie reached around and gently scraped her nails over the backs of Rebecca’s thighs. She licked each side of the pussy lips in turn her tongue slid up and down a few times before resting in the middle.

  “Mmm!” Rebecca pursed her lips and then parted in a loud gasp as Angie’s tongue slid slowly inside her pussy.

  “Aah!” she squealed and moved her hips forwards rhythmically.

  Angie grabbed her buttocks and held tight as her tongue twirled around inside.

  Rebecca began to scream as every inch of her pussy was explored inside and her juices streamed into Angie’s mouth. She thrust her hips forward, causing Angie to jolt back but she dug her nails into her cheeks to maintain contact. Rebecca pinched both her nipples tight and screamed again as a climax started to take hold. Angie tongue-fucked her as deep as she could and felt the pussy wall pulsate over her tongue.

  “Oh! Yes, yes! Argh!” Rebecca was struggling to stand on one leg as her whole body replicated what her pussy was doing.

  She shook for a second and another peak swept through her.

  “Mmm!” Her face was drenched in sweat as she gently pushed Angie away; Angie had to support Rebecca as she lowered her leg back down.

  Taking hold of each other tightly, they kissed deeply and fed off the taste of each other’s pussies.

  They broke contact and smiled at each other.

  “Maybe we should go back to the radio show now?” Angie said breathlessly.

  “My God! I had forgotten about that!” said Rebecca and looked horrified.

  She gave Angie a final tender kiss on the lips and they both checked their reflections in the mirrors before leaving.

  The door shut behind them and the toilet was quiet again.

  This seemed like a good time for the phone girl to leave her cubicle after waiting red-faced in silence for the two ladies to finish and leave.

  Angie and Rebecca were sitting back down in front of the presenter again. He didn’t want to get too annoyed because the lawyer lady scared him and he wanted to get into the pants of the porn star.

  “Okay, we are on the air in five seconds!” He counted down with his fingers and pointed to the ladies on zero.

  “So, ladies, where do you go from here?” he said eyeing Angie’s cleavage.

  “Well, I’m going home with Rebecca. We’re going to take out her video camera and film me fucking her with a strap-on dildo!” Angie smiled sweetly at Freddy and then at Rebecca, who was grinning through smeared lipstick.

  Freddie felt a mixture of rejection and frustration.

  “Why does everyone have to swear on my fucking show?” he shouted.

  Both ladies looked at him as if he was a naughty schoolboy.

  “I need a smoke!” he said as he started up some music quickly.

  The studio phone lit up, the indicator signified that it was from the station manager.

  “Oh, shit!”

  Car Bomb

  Maggie Kinsella

  Nell waits in her car outside Alex’s workplace. Past seven on a Dublin winter night and Nell’s car is one of only a few in the car park. The rain streams down the windscreen and she flicks the wipers. It makes no difference; there’s nothing to see except blurred waterlogged shapes.

  She’s been here twenty minutes, and there’s no sign of her lover. Nell peers through the downpour up to the third-floor window, where a cocoon of light makes a weak attempt to push back the darkness. They never turn the bloody lights off. Alex could have left already, except Nell knows she’ll still be sitting there, hunched over her computer, absorbed by the formulas on her screen. No doubt, she’s already forgotten she asked Nell to collect her. Nell curses the flat battery on the mobile phone which means she can’t call her, and double curses the security at Alex’s workplace. When Dervla the receptionist goes home at 5:30, picking up her bag and scurrying out for a reviving drink in Maguire’s, there’s no chance of walking in. Not without a staff card, security clearance, and knowledge of the door code. No, Nell simply has to wait, willing Alex to unwind her brain for long enough to remember the time, look out of the window and see the Peugeot squatting there in the rain.

  Nell sighs and squirms against the door. She tries not to think of the casserole sitting on the bench in their tiny galley kitchen – it needs an hour and a half in a slow oven to make the cheap cut edible. She tries not to think of her own computer screen, still powered on, and filled with the words that were only starting to flow when she realized the time and raced out the door. She hopes the rain doesn’t turn to a thunderstorm. Now is not a good time to remember she never replaced the broken surge protector. Nell closes her eyes and tries to recapture the mood that had the words tumbling out to fill the screen. It was hard enough to get excited about advertising copy for porridge oats; now the elusive words flicker and dance out of reach, spinning away like the raindrops down her windscreen.

  The glowing clock on the dash tells her it’s now seven-thirty. Thirty minutes of wasted time, when she could be home in their flat, surrounded by cooking warmth and written words. Her fingers drum on the steering wheel as she leans forward to peer through narrowed eyes up to Alex’s office.

  Goddammit! Why can’t she remember for once? Nell’s lips crunch to a thin, white line. It’s not as if her job as a research scientist is that important; it’s only numbers and Petri dishes and damn bacteria. Suddenly determined, she rummages around in the glove box. She’ll leave a note for Alex under the wiper and go down to Maguire’s for a pint. Maybe Dervla will still be there and they can natter over a couple of jars. And Alex can damn well wait for her for a change! But as her fingers close on a pen, the downpour intensifies and rain and hail lash the roof.

  Nell dr
ops the pen and closes her eyes in resignation. She’d drown before she got more than a dozen steps from the car. She’d be sitting in Maguire’s steaming in front of the fire – assuming they’d even lit one on a quiet Wednesday night. No, she’s stuck here, waiting for Alex to remember that patient old Nell is waiting outside.

  Seven forty. Nell finds a crumpled parking ticket – unpaid, she notices with a guilty start, and more than two months overdue. Gripping the pen, she twists to rest the ticket on the dash and capture those magical words about porridge oats; words that will make the product leap off the supermarket shelves into shoppers’ trolleys, and make her boss send more work her way. But the words have slid out of her head, out through the ventilation and down the wet cobbled street, down to the Liffey and out to the Irish Sea.

  Bitterness rises, seeping thick and black into her chest. She’s a supportive partner, always there for Alex, understanding when she disappears after dinner to read a research paper before bed. Uncomplaining when Alex’s gaze morphs to an unfocussed stare, and Nell has to repeat everything three times. Alex is undeniably brilliant, but that doesn’t excuse her selfishness. Nell’s fist crashes down on the dash, and the radio announcer stops in mid sentence. The last thing she needs; now she’ll have to dismantle the dash to fix it. Her simmering discontent boils over in a froth of white rage.

  Well, feck Alex and feck the rain. She’ll go to Maguire’s even if she crawls in as sodden as a mop head. Grabbing her purse and keys, she scrambles out into the night, and the rain instantly slicks her hair to her forehead. Locking the car, she stomps off in the direction of Maguire’s.

  After ten paces, she hears a shout over the rage clattering in her head, over the pounding of rain.

  “Hey, Nell! Wait!”

  She turns, and Alex is running toward her. Her dark curls bounce in disordered array, raindrops clinging to their wiry tumble.

  Alex pants to a stop in front of her. “Sorry, sorry,” she says. “I forgot the time, and I had to let the computer finish generating the report. I only saw the car when I looked out of the window a minute ago. Why didn’t you call me?”

 

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