Girl Crush

by R. Gay

  After the last students trickle out of the lecture hall, Vanessa motions for me to join her at the lectern with the curl of a single slender finger. I gather my bag and my notepad and the voice recorder I use to record her lectures for later review and rush to her side. She rolls her eyes and plants a finger in the middle of my sweaty forehead. As I inch toward her, Vanessa smirks. Then she leans down and whispers a series of commands, her lips brushing against my earlobe, her breath cool against my neck. I nod and resist the urge to turn my head until our lips meet. Her lipstick smells sweet.

  I was terrified of Vanessa when we first met. It was my first year as a PhD student and I didn’t know much of anything and still, I was the envy of all my classmates. A position as Vanessa Vicente’s graduate assistant was highly coveted. She met me in her office, which was large and filled with lots of natural light, shelves of books from floor to ceiling, a long leather couch against one wall. Vanessa sat in a Herman Miller chair wearing a sleeveless tunic and short skirt revealing a perfect pair of tanned, muscular thighs. As I stood in the doorway of her office wearing jeans and a frumpy blouse, I felt woefully underdressed. I leaned against the doorjamb, tried to control the trembling in my knees. Vanessa looked me up and down then shook her head. “You’re going to be a lot of work, aren’t you?” Her words were more declarative than interrogative.

  A dark heat spread across my face. “No,” I stammered, but she remained unconvinced.

  “We’re going to have to start with your wardrobe,” Vanessa said. “I only like to look at pretty things.” She wrote a few things on a notepad, tore the top page off, folded it in half and handed it to me along with a credit card. “Get everything on this list and be here at nine a.m. sharp, tomorrow.” I nodded, eagerly clutching the paper between my sweaty fingers.

  That was three and a half years ago. Since then, I’ve learned that Vanessa likes to look at a long neck, so I wear my hair swept up in a loose chignon. She likes to look at long legs, so I wear short skirts and high heels. She likes subtle scents so she chooses my perfumes. Vanessa expects me to work hard and be an outstanding scholar but she wants me to look good while doing it. Every time she makes a new, increasingly unreasonable request, I want her more and she knows it.

  When we’re in her office late at night, working, Vanessa will sit so close to me our arms are touching. She’ll stare at my breasts then look into my eyes until I’m so uncomfortable I’m forced to look away. When she’s feeling particularly cruel, she’ll slide a perfectly manicured hand between my knees and slowly start inching her fingers up until she’s reached the hem of my skirt. I sit perfectly still but I always spread my legs apart until we can smell and feel the heat of me.

  If I try to touch her or kiss her thick, moist lips, she slides away and returns her attention to her large computer monitor as if nothing happened. Sometimes, when she’s lecturing, I see her watching me while she’s talking about action potential or catharsis or emotional intelligence. To everyone else she’s looking down at her notes or scanning the room but I know better. When her eyes are on me, I lean forward and uncross my legs, sometimes arching my back to give her a better view of my breasts, hidden by clothes but framed by a silky black bra chosen by her. Sometimes, I hold my coat on my lap and when Vanessa Vicente is watching, I slide my hand under my coat and beneath the waistband of my skirt. I bite my lower lip and spread my swollen, slick pussy lips with two fingers. I start stroking my clit, hard, hungry, hers. I breathe slow and shallow, barely moving my fingers. When I do this, when I touch myself while she’s teaching, Vanessa grips the lectern so tightly I can see the strain in her hands. I don’t allow myself to come. I delay my gratification. Then I smile at Vanessa and I trace my lips with my wet fingers, tasting myself on my fingertips. When class is over, I’ll go to Vanessa to see what she needs and I’ll touch her hand and we’ll both know I’m leaving a little bit of me with her.

  After attending to Vanessa’s requests, I meet her in her office. She’s shaking her hair out. She looks up. “What did you think of today’s lecture?” she asks.

  I set my bag on the floor and lean against her desk. “Fascinating, as always. You did an excellent job of complicating the notion of desire for the students.”

  Vanessa nods and smiles warmly. She sinks into her couch and sighs. “I’ve always known you were a smart girl. Most people think desire is a simple thing—they think we want therefore we must have. If I’ve taught you anything, it’s that sometimes we have to want without being able to have.”

  I chuckle, thinking about our countless encounters of the unrequited kind. “I’ve definitely learned that.”

  I sit on the edge of Vanessa’s desk and let my heels fall to the floor, twisting my ankles in lazy circles as the blood rushes back to my toes. After years of working together, we’ve developed a certain familiarity.

  “What did you think about my discussion of how our ability to control our impulses is all about our faith in deferred gratification?”

  I cross my legs and lean on one arm. Vanessa looks right into me and I hold her piercing gaze. “You handled that well though I do believe there is one thing you’ve neglected.”

  Vanessa smirks. “Just one thing?”

  “Just one,” I say.

  She turns her hands upward. “Enlighten me.”

  I slide off her desk and close the short distance between us. I take a deep breath, then straddle her lap, clasping her wrists with my fingers. “You failed to discuss the reality that sometimes, we can’t control ourselves.” Before Vanessa can respond, I press my lips against hers, which are soft, full, inviting. A strange burning sensation begins to spread from beneath my breastbone outward and when she doesn’t resist, I slide my tongue into the silky, salty warmth of her mouth. I kiss her greedily. She leans back into the cushions behind her and I hold her wrists over her head with one hand. With my other hand, I tear her blouse apart, squeezing her breast as I moan into her mouth.

  Vanessa breaks free of my grip and stretches herself out along the length of her couch. She pats the empty space next to her.

  I lie next to her on my side and drape one leg over hers. Vanessa pulls my lower lip between her teeth and slides a hand down my body, between my thighs and up my skirt. As she deftly pulls my panties aside, I close my eyes, inch closer. She grazes her thumb over my clit, just enough to make me whimper. I move closer still, nothing between us but our clothes.

  Our lips meet again and I lift my leg high, inviting Vanessa inside me, where I want her, where I need her. She gently traces my pussy lips with her fingernails, a touch so soft it hurts. Suddenly, I feel like my clothes are strangling me. I sit up and shimmy out of my blouse and skirt, leaving my panties dangling around one ankle. I slide down to the floor and lie on my back. The only sound in the room is our husky, shallow breathing. I spread my legs wide. I bare myself to her. “Please,” I beg. “Lose control with me.”

  Vanessa kneels between my open thighs. Her torn blouse slides off her shoulders revealing a perfectly even tan, everywhere. She leans down, kisses my neatly shaved mound, inhales deeply, then crawls up my body, her naked breasts and hard nipples leaving a train of goose bumps in their wake. As she lies alongside me, she begins rolling my nipples between her fingers, sweetly at first, then harder and harder until it feels like she is trying to squeeze through me. When she releases her grip, my nipples throb and she wraps her lips first around one, then the other, lathing them with her wide tongue. I gasp, spread my legs wider than I would have thought possible, rocking my hips even though there is nothing there.

  “Don’t make me wait any longer,” I croak.

  Vanessa pauses, then licks between my breasts, along the column of my throat to my chin. She traces my lips with her tongue then kisses me hard and sloppy, groaning as I respond eagerly. “I suppose,” she finally says, “that the time for waiting has come and gone.” With those words, years of sexual tension unravel from my spine and toward my limbs. She slides her hand down my body, her f
ingers splayed, and when she reaches my pussy, this time, she doesn’t tease. She slides two fingers, then three into the heat and wetness of my cunt, buries herself deep inside me. Tears hover at the corners of my eyes. Vanessa straddles my naked thigh, hikes her skirt around her waist, revealing her beautiful pussy, covered in a pelt of fine red hair. As she thrusts her fingers inside me deeper, harder she begins grinding herself against my thigh, wetting my leg with her juices. Every stroke sends a sharp wave of pleasure through me. “More,” I beg, and Vanessa fills me with a fourth finger, twisting her wrist from side to side, pressing at the doughy pad of membranes each time.

  We have waited so long, have walked the tightrope of unspoken desire for so long, we come quickly, me holding her inside me as my body quakes around her, Vanessa riding me with a frenzied strength I have never known. When she pulls her hand away, I feel empty. I pull her fingers to my mouth, suckle each of them, tasting myself, tasting her, enjoying the sensation of her wetness drying on my thigh.

  My mentor rolls onto her back next to me, our fingers and toes touching. As I try to catch my breath, I mumble, “That was me losing control.”

  Vanessa strokes my chin with her thumb and laughs. “It took you long enough,” she says.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  KRIS ADAMS spends her days surrounded by words other people have written and her evenings surrounded by words of her own. She writes erotic and humorous fan fiction, in addition to original erotica. Her work can be found in Best Women’s Erotica 2009 and Best Lesbian Romance 2010.

  CHEYENNE BLUE’s erotica has previously appeared in multiple editions of Mammoth Best New Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica, Best Lesbian Love Stories, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Lesbian Romance and in Foreign Affairs: Erotic Travel Tales, Rode Hard, Put Away Wet: Lesbian Cowboy Erotica, After Midnight: True Lesbian Erotic Confessions and many other anthologies and websites.

  RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL (rachelkramerbussel.com) has edited over twenty-five anthologies, including First-Timers, Glamour Girls, Dirty Girls, Spanked, Bottoms Up, The Mile High Club, Crossdressing and Best Sex Writing 2008, 2009 and 2010. She writes about sex, books, and pop culture, is senior editor at Penthouse Variations and blogs at Cupcakes Take the Cake.

  CARRIE CANNON has stories in Best Women’s Erotica 2010 and Like a God’s Kiss. She’s been paid to be a cookbook editor, a cook, a restaurant owner and a dog groomer, but writing smut is her favorite job so far.

  ANGELA CAPERTON’s eclectic erotica spans many genres to include romance, horror, fantasy, science fiction, contemporary, hard-edged noir and whimsical. Her erotic fantasy “Woman of the Mountain” won the 2008 Eppie for Best Erotica. Look for her stories published with Cleis Press, Black Lace, Circlet Press and eXtasy Books.

  HEIDI CHAMPA’s work appears in anthologies including Tasting Him, Frenzy and Girl Fun One. She has also steamed up the pages of Bust magazine. If you prefer your erotica in electronic form, she can be found at Clean Sheets, Ravenous Romance, Oysters and Chocolate and the Erotic Woman. Find her online at heidichampa.blogspot.com.

  GINA DE VRIES’s work has appeared in Baby, Remember My Name: An Anthology of New Queer Girl Writing, Dirty Girls: Erotica for Women, TransForming Community, That’s Revolting!: Queer Strategies for Resisting Assimilation, Bound to Struggle: Where Kink & Radical Politics Meet, make/shift magazine and Curve magazine. She can be cruised online at ginadevries.com.

  DELILAH DEVLIN creates dark, erotically charged paranormal worlds and richly descriptive westerns that ring with authenticity. Ms. Devlin has published over forty erotic romances. Visit her online at delilahdevlin.com.

  DAVID ERLEWINE lives outside Annapolis with his wife and kids. He is a schlubby bureaucrat who likes writing smaller and smaller stories. His blog is whizbyfiction.blogspot.com.

  GABRIELLE FOSTER lives and writes in London.

  JENNIFER GENEVA is new to the world of erotica writing and hopes to visit again soon.

  SHANNA GERMAIN’s work may be found in places like Best American Erotica, Best Bondage Erotica 2, Best Gay Bondage Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Gay Romance, Best Lesbian Erotica, Dirty Girls, Frenzy, Playing with Fire and at shannagermain.com.

  MELISSA GIRA GRANT is a Brooklyn-based writer and sex worker rights advocate, whose work has recently appeared in Slate, $pread, BlackBook, Gawker, Valleywag, the San Francisco Bay Guardian, the Frisky, Dirty Girls (Seal Press), and Best Sex Writing 2008 (Cleis Press). Her website is melissagira.com.

  GENEVA KING (genevaking.com) has stories appearing in over a dozen anthologies including Ultimate Lesbian Erotica 2009, Ultimate Undies, Caramel Flava and Travelrotica for Lesbians 1 & 2. A transplant to Northern Maryland, she’s constantly on the prowl for her next muse.

  TERESA LAMAI is a novelist living in England. Her erotic stories have appeared in many anthologies, including Best Women’s Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica and Zane’s Caramel Flava. She recently completed an anthology of dance-themed erotica titled Swayed.

  ANNABETH LEONG is the alter ego of a technology journalist. Her erotica has appeared on the Oysters and Chocolate website and in Experimental: an Anthology of Sex and Science.

  KIRSTY LOGAN is a writer (kirstylogan.com), editor, teacher, grad student, and general layabout. She lives in Scotland with her very own rebel girl.

  EVAN MORA is a recovering corporate banker who’s thrilled to put pen to paper after years of daydreaming in boardrooms. Her work can be found in Best Lesbian Erotica ’09, Best Lesbian Romance ’09 & ’10, Where the Girls Are, The Sweetest Kiss: Ravishing Vampire Erotica and Please, Sir.

  JULIA PETERS lives and works in New York City. Her fiction has been published in Playgirl, The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, From Porn to Poetry 2 and others, as well as online at cleansheets.com, where she was a fiction editor. This is her first published work of erotica in quite some time.

  G. G. ROYALE started writing erotica over ten years ago and has had several short stories published under different pen names. For the last three years, she has also worked as an editor for e-book publisher Loose Id, where she has helped polish over fifty manuscripts. Read more at ggroyale.blogspot.com.

  LORI SELKE’s fiction has appeared at Strange Horizons and Fishnet, and in anthologies such as Homewrecker, Fucking Daphne, Spicy Slipstream Storiesand Bottoms Up. Her writing also appears regularly in Curve. She lives in Oakland, California.

  VANESSA VAUGHN’s stories have been included in anthologies from Cleis Press, Circlet Press and Ravenous Romance. Vanessa is a bisexual author who loves edgy tales—especially those with lesbian or BDSM themes. For more on her current projects, please visit her blog at VanessaVaughn.com.

  ABOUT THE EDITOR

  R. GAY’s writing appears in numerous anthologies and magazines including Best American Erotica 2004 and Best Women’s Erotica 2008. Visit her online at pettyfictions.com.

  Copyright © 2010 by R. Gay.

  All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, television, or online reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published in the United States, by Cleis Press Inc., 2246 Sixth St., Berkeley, California 94710.

  Text design: Frank Wiedemann

  Cleis logo art: Juana Alicia

  eISBN : 978-1-573-44545-0