by Alex Algren
“Police! Freeze,” exclaimed a familiar voice. “Or better yet, heat it up.”
I couldn’t see her clearly with my dazzled eyes, but the laugh that rippled through the window, low and sultry, recharged me instantly.
“You liked being caught by cops? Well, sweetheart, you’ve been busted this time! Don’t stop on my account.”
The flashlight went out. I heard the sound of zippers, fabric rustling.
I clicked on the lamp next to me to give her a better view.
We hesitated. I don’t know what was going through her head, but I know I was torn between heat and desperate self-consciousness. Should I pretend I didn’t know she was there? Or that she didn’t know I knew?
When my blood has rushed between my legs, my brain does not function well.
Then Elle whispered, “I’m watching you, Des.” She sounded like a dirty old man in a peep-show booth, and I felt a thrill shoot through me.
“I’m looking at your gorgeous little breasts and your pussy, which is all swollen and wet and just the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, and I’m watching it twitch because it knows it’s being stared at and it likes the attention.”
I heard a noise, and guessed that she was stroking her clit. Getting off by watching me. Oh, Christ, this was good. This was really, really good.
“Make yourself come for me, babe,” she murmured. “Just like you came on my hand the other day with MacIntyre watching. Because you know what? I couldn’t get a really good look at you then and I just hate the idea that he might have had a better view than I did.”
The combination of her voice and the mental picture of her fingers making a lazy circle on her wet button mesmerized me. With one hand I opened my labia. With the other, I slid the dildo into my very slick opening.
“So now I get to watch,” she said. “Remember that, babe: A cop is watching you play with yourself. You’ve been busted.
“Just like MacIntyre busted us. But I’m watching you now. I get to see your perfect breasts, and that intent look you get on your face when you’re about to scream. You’re going to come for me any second now, aren’t you?”
I heard the change in her voice. My eyes had adjusted enough that I could see her face, dimly, through the window. I saw her flushed face, the look of urgent concentration, the slightly crinkled brow. She was close herself.
I could also see my own reflection in the glass: spread-legged, a fat dildo stuffed inside me.
“Do it,” I begged. “Come with me.”
It’s a funny thing. Your face screws up when you’re coming and you roll your eyes and make uncouth noises and if you’ve seen yourself at that moment you probably think you look ridiculous. Still, there is absolutely no vision as glorious as the face of someone you’re crazy about when she’s in the throes of orgasm. When Elle began to shudder and her face transformed like that, right before she began to cry out, I started coming too, and it was the sight of her face, not my hands or the dildo or the original fantasy that sparked us, that pushed me to ecstasy.
Eventually—after a romp in the backyard and another in the shower—we settled down to fall asleep in each other’s arms. Just as we were drifting off, Elle began chuckling.
“What is it?” I mumbled. It was hard to be grumpy after coming approximately forty-seven times over the course of the night, but I’d almost been asleep.
“I didn’t tell you whose partner I was covering for tonight.” She’d already explained that she’d only been scheduled to work until nine-thirty. She had, in fact, engineered the whole thing to act on our new fantasies.
“Oh my god!” I said. “You got stuck with MacIntyre!”
“Talk about the longest evening in history.” She moaned dramatically, the back of her hand against her forehead. “Every so often I’d catch him looking at me, and he’d see that I saw, and he’d go all red again. To make it worse, we had to patrol the beach parking lot.”
I laughed. “So, did you catch anyone in the act?”
She pulled me closer. “Only you, Destiny. Only you.”
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL is a senior editor at Penthouse Variations, and formerly wrote the “Lusty Lady” column in the Village Voice. She is the editor of Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z and coeditor of Up All Night: Adventures in Lesbian Sex. Her writing has been published in more than fifty erotic anthologies, including Best Lesbian Erotica (2001, 2004, and 2005) and Best American Erotica 2004, as well as AVN, Bust, Curve, Diva, Girlfriends, On Our Backs, Penthouse, Punk Planet, Rockrgrl, the San Francisco Chronicle, Velvetpark, and other publications. Learn more about her at www.rachelkramerbussel.com.
From East Anglia, England, LEE CAIRNEY writes about the imaginative loophole sex creates out of the boring contract of everyday life. “Cruising” is her first foray into the dirty and demanding twilight world, or so she likes to imagine it, of women’s erotica.
DELILAH DEVLIN (DelilahDevlin.com) is an author with a rapidly expanding reputation for writing deliciously edgy stories with complex characters.
SOPHIE MOUETTE is the pseudonym of two professional writers who also publish solo work in erotica, science fiction/ fantasy and other genres under other names. Sophie’s publications include an erotica novel, Cat Scratch Fever, and short fiction in the anthologies Best Women’s Erotica 2005, Sex… in the Sports Club, Sex…in the Kitchen, Sex…in Uniform and Sex…on the Move.
AIMEE PEARL is a kinky bisexual exhibitionist who lives in San Francisco. She enjoys bossy perverts, gender rebels and assorted sexual misfits; her writing is much more fact than fiction. Aimee’s erotic stories have appeared in Best Lesbian Erotica 2008, On Our Backs magazine, and Longing, Lust, and Love.
LUX ZAKARI (myspace.com/luxzakari) has written erotica for the websites Oysters & Chocolate and Clean Sheets. She is working on an erotic novel about the 1970s.
Copyright © 2011 by Cleis Press.
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Published in the United States by Cleis Press Inc., 2246 Sixth Street, Berkeley, California 94710.
Cleis Press logo art: Juana Alicia
eISBN : 978-1-573-44731-7
