by Harper Bliss
Eliza’s pulse raced, skittering in uneven beats. She dragged a deep breath. “It’s okay. I’ll see my GP tomorrow. I promise.”
Jenny tilted her head and regarded her through narrowed eyes. “And she will send you to us pronto and then you’ll have to do this in a couple of days’ time, in a clinic full of patients, after you’ve lain awake worrying. If you’re awake at night, I want it to be because of me.”
“The machine logs will show an unaccounted for scan.”
“I’ll delete the scan. You’ll need to get this looked at properly, on record, whatever the diagnosis. This is for you. So hopefully you can stop worrying.”
Jenny would put her job on the line for her. Actions always did speak louder than words and this was an act of love.
“I’m being selfish, Eliza. I want to be in your bed tonight. I want it to be you and me in that bed, not you and me and a breast lump.”
She had to ask. “And if it looks… bad?”
“Then we’ll be in your bed tonight, but I’ll be holding you. Showing you I’m there for you.” Jenny’s eyes darkened. “Loving you—but only if that’s what you want. Now shut up and take off your clothes.”
“I’ve had sweeter propositions.” Eliza stopped thinking and let her fingers move on autopilot. White coat, shirt, and bra, removed without fanfare and folded neatly on the chair. She lay on the bed and waited while Jenny dimmed the lights and advanced with a tube of gel.
“You know the drill. This will be cold.”
Jenny turned the screen so they could both see it, and placed the probe on Eliza’s breast. Eliza fixed her eyes on the screen, watching as the familiar gray patterns emerged. Jenny moved the probe, pushed down, changed the angle. A beep as the machine recorded an image. Normal breast tissue.
Then Jenny’s voice was low. “Here it is.” Eliza closed her eyes, afraid to look. She felt the glide of the probe, heard the beeps.
“Open your eyes. I think it’s okay.”
The image on the screen showed a small, smooth capsule. The probe moved and captured another angle.
“If this were a patient’s film, what would you tell her?” Jenny’s voice, professional, even-toned. The voice of a radiographer, giving nothing away.
Eliza drew a deep breath. “I’d tell her I was ninety percent sure it was a fibroadenoma. That given her age, history, and the appearance on ultrasound, I was fairly sure it was benign, but that I wanted to take a needle biopsy to be sure.”
Jenny lifted the probe away and handed over a wad of paper towel. “That’s what I thought too—that’s what you should do tomorrow. Go to your GP and set the process in motion. But I think you’re okay.” She moved the machine back into the corner, started the shut down procedure. “Now wipe that goo off, get dressed, and let’s go and have that wine.”
Relief pounded in her blood, spinning her into an ecstasy of relief. Joy made her lightheaded, a bubble of laughter in the back of her throat. She saw Jenny, expertly shutting down the machine, and the relief exploded into longing and wanting. It wasn’t enough that she was almost certainly okay; she wanted to celebrate that knowledge with the person who’d dragged her to this point when she was too scared to take that step on her own. Jenny had been there for her, caring, practical Jenny. Earthy, fun-loving Jenny. Jenny who seemed to want Eliza as much as Eliza wanted her.
Leaving her clothes on the chair, Eliza advanced. She slipped her hands around Jenny’s waist, curving her taller body around Jenny’s, pressing her lips to the other woman’s neck.
“The wine can wait, but I can’t.”
Jenny’s fingers stilled on the panel, and then she turned in Eliza’s arms and reached up to join their lips.
Heat exploded between them. Eliza’s world narrowed to Jenny. Jenny whose lips moved over her own, sweet and soft, her tongue slipping insistently into Eliza’s mouth. The relief of knowledge made her knees buckle, and the tension of worry drained from her body. Instead she was filled with heat and desire, and the urgency to give to the woman in her arms. Kisses flowed—soft and seeking became fierce and urgent. Although the room was dim, the heat between them set Eliza ablaze. Her naked breasts pressed against Jenny’s shirt, and the heat of Jenny’s body warmed her through the cotton.
Jenny had given her so much already, an unselfish outpouring. Although Eliza wanted to take more—take Jenny’s passion, feel her lips on breast, belly, lower in the luxuriant curls that covered her pussy, even more she wanted to give back as generously as she had taken. There would be time later for them to explore each other as equals, as lovers. Months and years, if Eliza had her way.
So when Jenny pushed on her shoulder, as a prelude to palming her breasts, her thumb finding Eliza’s nipple, Eliza stopped her hands.
“No,” she said. “This first time is for you. You’ve already done so much.”
Then there were no words, just the sounds of breath and the rustle of clothing. Eliza kissed her way down Jenny’s neck, until her lips felt the thump of her pulse. Her fingers toyed with the shirt collar, sliding over the cotton until they touched skin. Hot skin, soft skin, smooth as butter, silky over the jut of collarbone. Eliza’s fingers walked down to the vee of the shirt, flicking buttons from holes until the shirt gaped open. Only when she had pulled it from Jenny’s practical work pants did she return and trace the edges of her bra. It was a sturdy bra, practical, designed for functionality rather than seduction, but Eliza didn’t care.
“If I’d known this was going to happen, I’d have worn better underwear,” Jenny muttered.
Eliza smiled into the dim light. The words were said with humor, a touch of self-deprecation. Typical Jenny and her confident, sassy personality.
She traced the edge of the cup, up over the wide shoulder strap. “I’m not looking at your underwear.” She reached around, unhooked the clasp and the bra sagged in front. Eliza drew it down Jenny’s arms, tossed it away. Full breasts greeted her, maybe not as firm as others, not as perky or artificial, but womanly and desirable.
Eliza had been with many women, college lesbians from the right side of town, artificial and polished professional women from business and networking groups. There had been a restraint about them, as if they were worried about how they presented. They had been compulsive dieters and gym rats. Seldom had she been with a woman as natural and down to earth as Jenny. Jenny was no greyhound, but she was firm, shapely and womanly. Beautiful.
Eliza cupped her breasts in her hands, her thumbs rubbing over the nipples. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to the pulse that beat frantically in Jenny’s neck, and moved down in open-mouthed kisses, over the angle of collarbone, down to where her breasts swelled from her chest.
Eliza saw hundreds of naked breasts in her work as a doctor, and never was she turned on. There was a line, a mindset that meant naked patients were bodies to be treated and nothing more. But here, in the same environment, Jenny’s naked breasts were setting her aflame.
She yanked the radiographer’s stool closer and sat, pulling Jenny between her spread knees. Their height difference was negated, and her lips were now on a level with dark nipples, jutting proudly, begging to be kissed.
She took one in her mouth, tonguing it to a peak. Jenny’s hands clutched at her shoulders, iron fingers digging into the muscles as her pleasure grew.
“Can’t remain standing.” Jenny drew away. She shed her remaining clothes with economical movements. “And I don’t need to with this bed here.”
The patient bed was narrow, only wide enough for a single person, but that obviously wasn’t what Jenny had in mind. She sat at the end and spread her legs. Even in the dim light Eliza could see her luxuriant bush was damp with juices. “See anything you like?”
Eliza scooted closer so this time she was the one between Jenny’s spread thighs. She pressed her lips to Jenny’s belly, just above those wet curls, kissed, and drew back, and her fingers teased up the radiographer’s thighs. Inch by inch, advance, retreat, her fingers skated with th
e lightest of touches. She watched in fascination as Jenny’s skin shivered with the torment of the touch.
One finger, then two brushed swollen outer lips, and then Eliza parted Jenny’s folds with careful fingers, bent once again to taste. The briefest of tastes, a promise of things to come on another day, when they had more time and a comfortable bed. Now her aim was more immediate, and she stroked with deliberate rhythm, brushing through wet folds, finding and stroking the jutting clit, cataloging Jenny’s sighs and moans, storing away what excited her, what made her flinch when the pressure was that bit too hard, the stroke that bit too insistent. She slipped two fingers inside her, fucking her with long even strokes.
“I’m—” Jenny’s breath hitched and the sentence hung in the warm air as her hips bucked forward, pushing against Eliza’s fingers and her inner muscles clenched down hard, sweet spasms of delight and internal flutters of aftershock.
Afterwards, when Eliza withdrew her fingers, uncoiled her body from the small stool and stretched her aching back, Jenny watched her through heavy lidded eyes.
Eliza extended a hand, and Jenny stood, and they swayed together for long moments, their bodies an easy fit.
Jenny heaved a sigh and stepped away, hunting for her clothes. Eliza watched as she got dressed as efficiently as she’d disrobed earlier. Pushing her messy hair behind her ears, Jenny took Eliza’s hand and pressed it to her breast.
“Thank you,” she said. “The next time’s for you. I hope your bed is bigger than this one. Now though,” Jenny continued, “let’s go to your place. I believe you said something about wine? I have tonight to show you this relationship won’t be all one-sided. Then tomorrow, I’ll come with you to your GP. I’ll wait outside if you want, but I’ll be there for you.”
“You don’t have to do that.” The thickness in Eliza’s throat made it hard to get the words out.
Jenny smiled. “My name is Bond. Jenny Bond. I can do whatever I want.”
THE END
About the authors
ERZABET BISHOP (facebook.com/erzabetbishopauthor) is thrilled to learn writing naughty books is a whole lot of fun. She is a contributing author to A Christmas to Remember, Sweat, When the Clock Strikes Thirteen, Can’t Get Enough, Slave Girls, The Big Book of Submission, Gratis II, Anything She Wants, Coming Together: Girl on Girl and more. She is the author of Tethered, Sigil Fire (June 2014), The Erotic Pagans Series: Beltane Fires, Samhain Shadows and Yuletide Temptation. She lives in Texas with her husband, furry children and can often be found lurking in local bookstores. Follow her reviews and posts on Twitter @erzabetbishop.
LAILA BLAKE (lailablake.com) is an author, linguist and translator. She writes character and issue-driven love stories, co-founded the micro-publishing venture Lilt Literary (www.liltliterary.com) and blogs about writing, feminism and society. Laila’s body of work encompasses literary erotica, romance, as well as the various fields of speculative fiction (dystopian/post-apocalypse, fantasy, paranormal romance and urban fantasy) and she adores finding ways to mix and match. Her short stories have been featured in numerous anthologies, among them Best Women's Erotica 2014 and Best Erotic Romance 2014.
HARPER BLISS (harperbliss.com) has travelled the world in search of sexual satisfaction. She now resides in a hot Asian country and dedicates her time to writing down the stories that have inspired and aroused her. Harper is the author of the High Rise series, the French Kissing serial and several other lesbian erotic romance titles. She is the co-founder of Ladylit, an independent press focusing on lesbian erotica.
CHEYENNE BLUE’S erotica has appeared in over 90 anthologies including Best Women's Erotica, Cowboy Lust, Best Lesbian Romance, Lesbian Lust, and Frenzy: 60 Stories of Sudden Sex and many more. She lives, runs, and writes by the beach in Queensland, Australia. Visit her website at cheyenneblue.com
LUCY FELTHOUSE (lucyfelthouse.co.uk) is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres, lengths and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several ‘Best’ anthologies from Cleis Press.
More from Ladylit
For a complete list of Ladylit’s titles, please visit ladylit.com/books
A Christmas to Remember
From the obligatory office party to a cabin in the woods, Christmas celebrations come in all shapes and sizes. The ladies in this Christmas anthology like to keep it original though, and get their festive groove on in bed shops and the Australian outback, not to mention the ‘Mermaids and Mistletoe Masquerade Ball’… A Christmas to Remember contains five lesbian erotica stories that will make your Christmas merry AND hot.
Girls Only: The Collection
This scorching hot collection bundles ten lesbian erotica short stories from Harper Bliss. The settings vary from bars to gyms and the characters range from tennis players to cut throat lawyers, but, as always, all these tales feature… Girls Only.
I Still Remember
Successful news anchor Elise returns to her hometown after running away from a love she couldn’t understand nor act upon twenty years ago. When she bumps into her old best friend Amy, the one she had to get away from, all that was left unspoken bubbles to the surface and they revisit the past in more ways than one.
Sweat (Five Sporty Tales of Lesbian Lust)
Some girls simply swim or run, while others practice yoga or roller derby, but no matter their preference in sports, all the ladies in this mini-anthology get plenty of girl-on-girl action. Sweat contains five sporty lesbian erotica stories that will make you perspire with desire.
Anything She Wants
In the office, on the set of a movie or on the bathroom floor, the ladies in this anthology don’t care where they get it on. Power play, first time encounters and office rivalry get the characters in these twelve stories so riled up, the only way to go is down and dirty. Tales of spanking, a wild all-female college party and a waitress with a strap-on grace the pages of Ladylit’s first multi-author lesbian erotica anthology.
The Blue Hour
In a drowsy English village at the dawn of the 1920s, Rosina King sleepwalks through her unhappy life—until one deep blue evening, when she is finally woken by a kiss.
American painter Eve Soames is the embodiment of a thoroughly modern woman: fearless, financially independent, and strong-willed. When Eve bursts into her life, Rosina finds herself mesmerised, and also unsettled by what she senses Eve might teach her.
High Rise (The Complete Collection)
Four women. One building. A million complications.
High Rise is a series of lesbian erotic romance novellas focusing on four women who live in The Ivy, the sexiest building in Hong Kong. There’s Alex, a local gym instructor with a broken heart. Her room mate Nat, a celebrated American writer who moved to Hong Kong for love. Their upstairs neighbour Maddie, a workaholic investment banker. And the penthouse inhabitant, Isabella, a psychiatrist who’s lived in the city for fifteen years.
Romances develop and untangle as these four women get to know each other better.