Finding Ms. Write

by Jae

  “Silence, mortal!” Lara’s superhuman powers came in handy when she had to taunt her foes. “I’ll teach you a lesson.” Gia glanced behind her to make sure she had clearance and brought down the flogger with all her force. She almost closed her eyes, praying she would hit the right spot.

  The pink and white cords hit the edge of Ally’s right hip before collapsing on impact. Tufts of nylon cord rained onto the carpet, and Gia clutched the bereft handle. A thick blob of glue sported a few nylon hairs where the falls had been attached.

  “Ouch!” Ally cried, rubbing the faint mark on her skin. “That wasn’t sexy.”

  “No.” Gia stared from the broken handle to her lover’s bottom. “Not at all.”

  How come Lara’s floggers never break?

  Gia tried to give me what I wanted. Why am I sulking? Ally didn’t know whether to pout or laugh. What would Gia’s quilting circle friends say if they knew she had taken a flogger to her wife? Would they gasp in horror, or would they pretend not to understand and show off their newest rectangular-fabric cutting tools? She could never understand how her unassuming wife had turned into the kinky phenomenon of literature. At first, Ally had objected, stunned and horrified. Porn objectified women! But she relented when Gia explained that the stories, although explicit, were about women needing connection. After that, they both agreed not to speak of Violetta Beauregard, Gia’s over-sexed alter ego. For a while, Ally had been afraid every night of sex would become fodder for Violetta’s next book.

  Ally puttered into the kitchen, where she took a slab of bacon from the fridge and some tomatoes from the counter. She was trying yet another anti-grain diet, but the cholesterol of red meat probably canceled the benefit of reducing processed carbohydrates. She dropped a pat of butter into the small cast-iron skillet they had received as a wedding present and then paused. The unnecessary fat bubbled and hissed against the black bottom of the pan. Too late now. She laid a few slices of bacon in the butter, curling the ends where they were too long for the pan. Fatty meat. Since she’d eliminated cookies, cakes, scones, and all her other favorites, it was her new treat. Some days, she would kill for a fresh blueberry muffin.

  She washed and quartered the tomatoes Gia had picked from their garden earlier that morning and then pressed the serrated edge of her steak knife against the ripe flesh. Yellow seeds and pulpy goodness spilled from her knife into the sizzling pan. Her mouth watered.

  Gia had retreated to the desk she kept in the living room. As much as she liked quiet, she had yielded to Ally’s demand not to set up a private office. Writers put in eighteen-hour days with little to no vacation time, and Ally wanted to see at least the back of the woman to whom she had dedicated her life.

  “Are you hungry?” Ally flipped the bacon with her tongs and cut the strips into bite-sized pieces with her favorite green-handled kitchen shears. Should she add some avocado, or would the creamy fruit disintegrate into the bacon grease?

  A grunt could have meant Gia heard, or it could have signaled annoyance at a sentence gone wrong. Lara, Gia’s heroine who linked together all of her books, had occasionally violated their rule about keeping kinky books private. Gia often exclaimed after a particularly good episode in bed, “That’s how Lara should do it!” Lusty Lara’s newest love interest, Sex Kitten Kate, defied her ability to seduce any red-blooded woman with a functioning hormone. Kate played Gabrielle to Lara’s Xena, if Xena and Gabby had ever gotten it on.

  They should have gotten it on.

  It had been embarrassing but titillating to read Gia’s books. Ally’s favorite, by far, was Sex Kitten Kate and her ability to reduce Lusty Lara to a quivering, speechless mess. The best episode depicted Kate locking Lara to an iron bedframe with real police handcuffs and then using Lara’s own toys against her. Kate had wielded nipple clamps, talons, and even vampire gloves until Lara’s hoarse moans dwindled into one word. Kate. She had left the vanquished heroine unsatisfied for hours, taunting for each time Lara had done the same to a conquest. By the end of the book, Kate unfastened the cuffs and instructed the chastened lover in how to pleasure a woman instead of conquering her. Ally couldn’t wait to see whether Sex Kitten Kate’s dominance would continue, or if Lusty Lara would teach her a lesson. Who would wield the hairbrush next?

  “No!” Gia pounded the desk. Had Sex Kitten Kate foiled her plans? How could Gia become so absorbed in fake women when her real woman stood beside her, offering homemade food and all the kink a suburban housewife could muster?

  Then again, Ally couldn’t muster much. She speared a piece of bacon and a triangle of fried tomato with a fork, blew on the steaming mouthful, and held it out. Gia reached for it, but Ally shook her head. “Open your mouth.”

  “That’s what Kate just said to Lara.” Obediently, Gia accepted the fruit and meat. “Yum! What did you put in it this time?”

  “Not much. The bacon is so fresh it didn’t need more than light seasoning.”

  Gia swiveled her chair around to face Ally. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to use a flogger.”

  “No shirt, Sherlock.” Ally grinned, using their favorite PG adaptation of the catchphrase. Ally put a forkful of bacon and tomato into her own mouth and savored the unlikely combination of flavors. She swallowed. “Why do you write about it, then? I wanted to be…” She blushed.

  Gia’s dark eyes lit up. “Lara? You wanted to be Lara?”

  Ally shook her head. “No, I wanted you to be Lara. I wanted to…”

  Gia named a few of Lara’s lovers, and Ally blushed even more. Finally, she squeaked out the embarrassing truth.

  “I wanted to be Sex Kitten Kate. Not—”

  “Kate!” Gia’s eyes shone like birthday candles. “You as Kate! You!”

  Ally giggled. “Thanks for nothing, wifey. You saying I can’t seduce you? You’re the one who broke my flogger.”

  “You’re the one who can’t manage a lap dance.” Gia scooted her chair backward, patting her legs. Ally hopped onto it, curling her arms around her wife’s neck. “It was a terrible flogger. London Tanners or Adam and Gillian have far better—”

  “Shush, wifey, or I’ll take out the other toy I got.” Ally traced the outline of Gia’s lips and sucked on her forefinger. Gia’s breath quickened. “And I didn’t cheap out on this one, either. Sara let me borrow hers.” Having a police officer for a friend had its uses other than feeling safe at night.

  Gia shuddered, licking her lips. “How did you get her to share?”

  “Easy.” Ally slid off her wife’s lap to retrieve the gleaming brushed steel handcuffs. “I promised to give her your tulip pattern.”

  “Ally! No!”

  Gia’s pride and joy was her famous tulip quilt, impossibly intricate and baffling even to experienced quilters. The trick was to sew the pieces together in the right order so the folds would lie flat. She guarded the secret more jealously than Ally’s fidelity.

  Ally held out the handcuffs, unsympathetic. After all, Gia could have wrestled herself away from her writing and set up the scene on her own terms. “That’s what I expect you to say in a few minutes, but with a lot more desperation.” And moaning.

  Gia raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t we broken enough things for today? Maybe we should just accept that we’re boring old women who can’t get it on.”

  “Speak for yourself, granny. Do you want Sex Kitten Kate to spank you or not?”

  “Spank?” Gia’s eyes grew round. “The flogger—”

  Ally wiggled the fingers on her hand. “This won’t break. Stop stalling.”

  As if in a dream, Gia held out her hands. Ally started to cuff them and stopped, looking puzzled.

  “Thought you were the big bad Kate.” Gia couldn’t help the gentle taunt. Really, it was a treat to discover this new side to Ally. She had almost hyperventilated at discovering the smutty natu
re of Gia’s books. How much had changed in a few years! “If I were Lara, I’d take the handcuffs and shackle you. Oh, and throw you over my shoulder to—”

  Ally pulled Gia out of the chair, and she was startled enough to follow. “Silence, mortal!” They both giggled at the line.

  “That’s what Lara says,” Gia stage-whispered. “Not Kate.”

  “Kate can say whatever she wants,” Ally corrected. “She’s badass like that.”

  “So, are you going to seduce me, or should I take a nap?” Gia gave a polite yawn. “Perhaps I should pretend to be afraid?”

  “That does it.” Ally scanned the living room before shrugging and pushing Gia over the back of the chair. The rollers squeaked, but she wedged the chair against the desk. “Uh, how do I get these open?”

  Gia giggled into the cushion of the chair back. “That is the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

  Slap!

  Gia jumped as Ally dropped the handcuffs and tugged the linen capris to her ankles. “I’m going to lick you like a popsicle.”

  “Not a cherry one. I’ve already lost that—”

  Smack! “I’ll spank you as red as a cherry and suck on—”

  “Where’d my sweet, cute Ally go?” Gia wriggled against the chair, struggling to keep her legs pressed together. They were a comfortable married couple, not sex-crazed rabbits humping in the wild. She should not quiver with desire like a teenage boy hoping to get laid.

  Swat! “Ouch. My hand hurts!”

  “Now you see why Lara has so many toys.” It took all of Gia’s self-control to speak in a semi-normal tone. While she had written many a spanking into Lusty Lara’s exploits, she’d never dreamed that a few mild spanks could send her into such a tizzy. She’d do a better job of writing the aftermath in her next—

  Ally gave another noisy, open-handed slap. “Stop thinking how you’ll put this into your next book!”

  Oh, she was good! Gia melted into a puddle, kneeling while hanging on to the back of the chair. “Ally-kazam,” she murmured, using her long-ago pet name for the girl who turned her world upside down. “Take me now!”

  “Not until I’m good and ready.” Ally cupped Gia’s buttocks, kissing the skin that longed for contact. “Okay, I’m ready. Turn over.”

  “Are we going to break the chair this time?” Gia rotated to face the unexpected lust in her usually complacent wife. “Uh, Ally. The neighbors will hear…”

  Ally knelt before her, luscious pink tongue at the ready. “I’m not Ally,” she insisted. “I’m Sex Kitten Kate.”

  At that, Gia entangled her hands in Ally’s still-damp hair. “No.” She bent down for a kiss, both frantic and assured. “You are my Ally. Better than any woman I put onto paper.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, Ally’s eyes blurring with tears.

  Gia! What were you doing! How could you let Ally think, for one second, that she had to measure up to your characters? Gia had to look at the floor, her hands, or anywhere but at Ally. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “No. You don’t.” Ally spread Gia’s legs farther apart and fondled her inner thighs. “Take notes, because it’s my turn next, and I expect nothing less than brilliance.”

  “So, uh…” Gia blushed. “Could you make a mistake? I’m not sure if I can live up to this new sex-kitten you.”

  “Nope.” Ally gave a long, luxurious stroke of her tongue that sent Gia into paroxysms of tingles. “We’ve had enough faux pas for today, haven’t we?”

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  ELAINE BURNES

  Elaine Burnes grew up and lives in Massachusetts. She works full-time and writes fiction when she can, publishing her first story, “A Perfect Life,” in Skulls and Crossbones in 2010. Since then, she has had several more stories published, including “A Certain Moon,” in the Goldie-winning anthology Wicked Things from Ylva in 2014. A collection of short stories, A Perfect Life, will be published 2016. Her first novel, Wishbone, came out in 2015.

  Connect with this author:

  Website: elaineburnes.com

  Facebook: facebook.com/elaine.burnes

  JOVE BELLE

  Jove Belle is the author of several novels, novellas, and short stories. The novella Cake is her most recent release and is the first installment of the Bitterroot Saga. She also works as the operations director US for Ylva Publishing, an international publisher based out of Germany.

  Connect with this author:

  Website: jovebelle.com

  MELISSA GRACE

  Melissa Grace is the author of Tainted Elite, Aspen’s Stunt, and several other lesfic titles emphasizing strong female characters. The joy of completing a book tends to inspire her to spontaneously break out in ninja moves. An engineer, avid motorcyclist (both on and off road), devoted martial artist, and passionate violinist, she grew up in Hanover, NH, believing she would someday become a stuntwoman. While she enjoys many opportunities for exploration of the world around her, her most treasured journey has been building a life with her family in Texas.

  Connect with this author:

  E-mail: melissa.grace@att.net

  Website: inthebardroom.wordpress.com/

  Twitter: @melissagraceitb

  LEA DALEY

  Lea Daley has written fiction and poetry while raising children, claiming a lesbian identity, earning a BFA in painting, teaching preschoolers and college students, surviving the death of her only daughter, and heading a nonprofit agency that serves low-income working families. Her debut novel, Waiting for Harper Lee, was a Golden Crown Awards finalist and received a Lavender Certificate from the Alice B Readers Appreciation Committee. Her second book, FutureDyke, won a Goldie Award and was a Lambda Literary finalist.

  Connect with this author:

  Website: leadaley.com

  A.L. BROOKS

  A.L. Brooks currently resides in London, although over the years she has lived in places as far afield as Aberdeen and Australia. She works 9-5 in corporate financial systems, and spends many a lunchtime in the gym attempting to achieve some semblance of those firm abs she likes to write about so much. And then promptly negates all that with a couple of glasses of red wine and half a slab of dark chocolate in the evenings. When not writing she likes doing a bit of Latin dancing, cooking, travelling both at home and abroad, reading lots of other writers’ les-fic, and listening to mellow jazz.

  Connect with this author:

  E-mail: albrookswriter@gmail.com

  Facebook: facebook.com/albrookswriter

  CHRIS ZETT

  Chris Zett lives in Berlin, Germany, with her partner. TV inspired her to study medicine, but she found out soon enough that real life in a hospital consists more of working long hours than performing heroic rescues. The part about finding a workplace romance turned out to be true, though.

  She uses any opportunity to escape the routine by reading, writing, or traveling. Her favorite destinations include penguin colonies in Patagonia and stone circles in Scotland.

  Connect with this author:

  E-mail: chris-zett@web.de

  CORI KANE

  Cori Kane has an addiction: stories. Whether they come as books, movies, TV shows, or even song lyrics, she wants them—and uses them as inspiration for her own work. She started writing at fourteen when her first crush inspired her to write some “seriously lovely, seriously naive poetry.”

  Many years later, Cori Kane still hasn’t given up on entertaining herself and others with her less lovely and—hopefully—less naive fiction. When not writing she indulges in all the other ways to feed her addiction and loves to take strolls in her hometown by the sea.

  Connect with this author:

  E-mail: cori.kane@web.de

  Website: seriouswriterdude.wordpress.com/

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bsp; Facebook: facebook.com/pages/Cori-Kane/268830173306877

  Twitter: @corikane

  KATHY BRODLAND

  Kathy Brodland is a seventy-eight-year-old retiree, living in Langley, British Columbia. She has been writing most of her adult life, but it is only recently that she realized there might actually be a market for the kind of stories she likes to write. She loves speculative fiction, along with stories that involve the paranormal and things that go bump in the night.

  She acquired a taste for lesbian fiction after her wife introduced her to Radclyffe’s writings. She has been hooked ever since.

  Connect with this author:

  E-mail: brodlandk@gmail.com

  HAZEL YEATS

  Hazel Yeats resides in the Netherlands, the country of flat polders, green pastures, and lots of water. She knew from an early age that she wanted to write, but it wasn’t until decades later that she finally wrote a novel. Once she had, there was no going back—she was hooked.

  When she’s not slaving away at her day job, she’s cycling, sipping cappuccinos, or getting her hands dirty by growing her own veggies. And she sings, in a very unambitious choir. You wouldn’t peg her for a soprano, but she is.

  Connect with this author:

  E-mail: hazelyeats@outlook.com

  Facebook: facebook.com/Hazel-Yeats-1041782659197796/

  JACELLE SCOTT

  Jacelle Scott is the pseudonym of lovers, bound to one another for over forty years, who live in the northeastern United States. Scholars, writers, and each a parent, they work as historian and researcher respectively and have published books, articles, essays, and many academic papers. At last, they are planning their wedding and searching for a new house, replete with studio space where they will continue to write, learn to paint, and drink afternoon tea or whatever strikes their fancy.