Best Lesbian Erotica 2011

by Kathleen Warnock

  I leaned away from her and into the dirt. “Ankle’s just sprained. I hope.” Then I nearly collapsed, but she caught me and started pushing me up.

  “I’ll look at it when we get up there. Come on, bend your knee and pull yourself up with the highest roots you can reach.” Sandra bent down and grabbed my bad leg. Then she heaved just as the pain made its way up my numb limbs. I bit back on a scream, or three, but I dragged myself up as best I could. Between the two of us, she managed to get me up on the hill, then crawled up to collapse next to me in the mud.

  We scrambled to our feet, or foot in my case, and headed for some bushes under the trees. “Lie down on this.” Sandra pulled a plastic poncho from a little knapsack that she had clearly left up top while she went down after me. I dropped like a heap of wet rags and just lay there letting the rain wash the mud off me.

  Since my eyes were shut, I didn’t see her come back with the pine branches. Or the two logs, on what must have been her second trip. I did sit up and try and help while she put together a lean-to, but I wasn’t much use. In the meantime, the rain didn’t let up at all so when we were done, we were sprawled on wet plastic under wet branches in wet clothes.

  Sandra lay there a moment, then groaned. “Oh, great, I managed to forget to check your ankle.” She started to wiggle out but stopped when I put my hand on her arm.

  “Let’s just let it wait until it stops raining. It’s already swollen.” I tried to smile but wasn’t too successful, judging from her expression.

  It was around this time that it finally dawned on me that she was pressed up against me, her uniform clinging wetly to both of us. Those kissable lips were inches away. Did I dare? But maybe this wasn’t the time. My ankle throbbed and my clothes were sticking to the plastic. A few drops of rain trickled down through the branches into my eye. I shut both of them and tried to think pure thoughts. I ended up thinking about deforestation again, and another tear ran down my cheek before I could wipe it away.

  Sandra sighed. “All right, so I get it about the trees. But do you really think that sitting in a platform in the biggest tree in this forest until you fall out is really going to do anything?”

  “As opposed to doing the lumber company’s dirty work and forcing us out?” I snorted and stopped crying. “Yes, of course we can accomplish something: it gets press and attention and then people find out what’s going on. These are old-growth trees. Don’t you care? I thought that’s what being a ranger was all about.” That and the babes. But I didn’t say that part out loud. I also didn’t mention how much I used to dream about being a ranger when I grew up, back when I was a kid. More of a kid.

  Sandra tucked her arm under her head and studied me like I was a new species of beetle or something. Her expression was thoughtful and managed to be distant, even though we were all of six inches apart. “Not exactly. It’s about educating people about nature and protecting the animals. Looking out for forest fires. And working for the Park Service, which is part of the federal government, also means following its rules and regulations, including the ones that cover timber sales on public land.”

  I shivered. Then shivered again. Maybe it was getting colder. Or maybe I was just wet and sore and tired. And disappointed. This was as close as I’d ever gotten to a real ranger, and I wanted her to understand. I wanted it very badly. I wrapped my arms around as much of myself as I could reach and tried to think warm thoughts.

  There was a flash overhead and I jumped. Then, I was being pulled close and held. Ranger Sandra had reached out and touched someone, namely me. I was pressed up against her warm, wet cotton shirt, her full breasts smushed into mine. I scooted in closer, letting my hips and legs rest against hers. I buried my face in her shoulder, my heart racing. What if this didn’t mean what I hoped it meant?

  We lay like that for a while, letting our bodies settle into each other. I could feel her heartbeat and the rhythm of her breathing. The pressure of her body against mine was making me ache, but in a good way. I wanted to take the next step, let my hands wander, let my mouth find hers. But I was too chicken. So instead, I just lay there and imagined what it would be like.

  Apparently she was wondering too. Her hand slid carefully around my shoulders and slowly down my back, leaving a trail of gooseflesh as it went. I could feel her face turn and her lips brush the skin of my neck. “Nice tat.” Her voice took on a husky growl that went straight through me, melting my bones and everything else on the way. Soon I wasn’t just wet from the rain. I turned my face toward hers and she kissed me.

  I kissed back, letting my lips part under hers, welcoming her tongue into my mouth. I twined mine in hers, savoring her fruity, rich taste. We shifted and she broke off the kiss. I gasped as she trailed her tongue over the damp skin of my neck, exploring the vine tattoo that ran down my neck and over my shoulder.

  I moved my fingers up to the buttons on her shirt and began to unbutton them, trying not to make an idiot of myself. I was getting to touch an actual park ranger, and not just any ranger but the hottest one ever. I stopped unbuttoning so I could caress the fabric of her shirt. The wet cloth rolled between my fingers, softer and tougher than anything I’d ever caressed before.

  Sandra bit my breast through my shirt, pulling a moan up from somewhere around my toes, which in turn made me move my ankle. “Ow!” I pulled away, reached down and banged my head on one of the lean-to branches. Perfect. “Smooth” was my middle name today.

  “Oh, crap, I forgot.” Sandra wiggled away, leaving a big aching empty space in her wake. I whimpered. Then I yelped as she started unlacing my boot. “All right. This is going to hurt.” I started to brace myself, but it was too late. She yanked and the boot came off in her hand. At the same time, she slipped in the mud and landed in a puddle out in the downpour hammering the woods around us.

  We stared at each other and she threw her head back and started to laugh. She had a rich, hearty laugh that shook her whole body. The rain poured into her mouth and down her face and through her hair, transforming her from ranger to nature goddess. I stared at her, wondering if I could crawl out to her, lick the drops off her skin, bury my face between her legs and drink her in until we floated away in the rain.

  She tilted her head back up and grinned at me. Then she moved over to check my ankle. She grabbed something out of her pack that made my heart sing: namely, a first-aid kit. Of course. I might just be in love.

  A few moments of bone-jarring pain later, and my ankle had been sprayed down with something cool and numbing and tightly wrapped. I reached out and grabbed her hand just as she finished up. “Beautiful and competent, does it get any better than that?” She raised an eyebrow and I buried my face in my hands. “Oh, god, that was sooo cheeseball!”

  She unlaced my other boot then turned them both upside down so they wouldn’t fill up with water. She did the same with hers before she crawled back in. We stared at each other for a moment. “Thanks,” I said, finally.

  Then she was in my arms, and we were kissing and biting each other’s lips, tearing off our clothes with no time to savor the feel of fabric—or to think about fantasies coming true. Our bodies slid together, slick with desire and mud and the rain that showed no signs of letting up. I gripped her thigh between mine, riding her muscles so that her skin and my clit ground into a spicy mix that sent shocks through the rest of my body.

  Sandra bent her head to take my nipple into her mouth, and the suction of her lips pulled every nerve ending I had up with it. My back arched as I buried my fingers in her hair, marveling at how soft it was. She tongued my nipple against her teeth and I grabbed for her breast, desperate to make her feel what I felt.

  She caught my hand and pushed it back to pin it over my head. Then I could feel her free hand on my thigh, stroking my skin on its way to where I nearly begged her to touch me. A few seconds more, and I knew I would be pleading with her. I ached inside so much that it felt like nothing was ever going to fill me up. That thought hit me at the same time that she relea
sed my wrist and slid lower on me.

  I watched—well, gasped for breath really—as she positioned herself between my legs, her naked butt exposed to the rain. Then she swiped her tongue up and over the general vicinity of my clit and suddenly I was on fire. Her tongue circled and I bucked against her mouth as her fingers found their way inside me. Her tongue swirled and caressed while her hand thrust into me until I surrendered completely to the wave of sensation. I came against her hungry mouth, my muscles convulsing so hard, I nearly brought the lean-to down on our heads.

  Then I pulled her up out of the rain and licked my own juices from her lips. I managed to get my hand between her thighs, letting her wetness pour down over my fingers like the rain outside. Carefully, I maneuvered her over and climbed on top of her, but I was so awkward it felt like it was my first time ever. My ankle howled but I ignored it as best I could, concentrating on pleasuring her.

  I tried to move down her body as she’d done on me but couldn’t stop a hiss of pain. She grabbed my shoulders and held me in place while I twisted a little to ease the stress on my foot. I concentrated instead on thrusting my fingers into her, letting them find their way inside her like explorers looking for the source of a new and exotic river.

  That was when it hit me: I could almost feel the trees around, and I could feel the rain and earth. We were taking it back, reclaiming what should have been ours from those who wanted to destroy it. I tried to put that in every stroke of my tongue, every caress of my hands. I licked and sucked and nibbled that awareness into my park ranger until Sandra shivered and shook beneath me.

  The ankle caught up with me at last, of course. Well, that and the lack of food. I collapsed down on her as she relaxed from her final orgasm. She caught me, burying one hand in my short, wet hair and tilting my face back. “You’re pretty amazing considering the condition you’re in. How’s the ankle?”

  I grimaced and my stomach growled louder than the rain outside. I hid my face in her shoulder. “Oops. Guess it’s been a while since lunch.” I could feel her laugh under me, her chuckle working its way down into where our bellies met.

  Then she slid me off as carefully as she could and went for her pack again. She rustled around for a minute and pulled out a couple of crumpled energy bars. “Looks like this is it.”

  “Don’t they teach you how to hunt and forage in park ranger school?” I took the energy bar she held out. There was food up on my platform, I remembered now. I wondered if I could get up to it.

  Sandra was rolling her eyes at me. “Yeah. Hunting and foraging are big. When it stops raining, I’ll go out and track a deer for a day or two, then hit it on the head with a rock. Oh, wait, or I can walk two miles down to the highway and another mile into town, then eat at a restaurant.”

  “Point taken. Maybe we could do that sometime.” I was proud of the way I sounded casual and all. Or at least I hoped I did.

  “Sure. Right after you get out of jail, and I get out of the doghouse with my department manager over this little incident.” She bit down on the energy bar and stared up at the branches of the lean-to. “At least it looks like it’s going to stop finally.”

  Jail? I twisted around and did some staring upward of my very own. Clearly this wasn’t going to be the bonding with the woody goddess of my dreams that I was picturing an hour ago. When I started sitting in my tree, I knew that jail time if they got me down was a very real option, but somehow, it was different when it came out of her mouth. Now I wasn’t just hungry, I was cold and depressed.

  It must have been coming off me in waves. Sandra reached out and pulled me up to her, wrapping her arms around me. “Of course, I’ve got a better idea. How about we stay here for a little while longer, then you get dressed and head down into town? I’ll give you my apartment key, and you can wait for me there. In the meantime I’ll go back and tell them I couldn’t find you in the storm. No jail, no manager problems, all good.” She kissed me hard and I kissed her back, savoring the taste of energy bar like never before.

  I was hoping that would be enough to ignore the little voice asking, “Then what?” in the back of my head. And for a little while it was. My fingers tingled as I ran them over her skin and I licked the rain off her shoulders. She was smiling when I looked back up; after that, my body decided I’d do my worrying later.

  When later rolled around, the wanting had settled down to a pleasant ache, somewhat more intense than my longing for a decent veggie burger. We kissed until she dozed off. I surprised myself by joining her sooner than I expected, what with the cold and ankle.

  Of course, when I woke up a little while later, I was freezing. Sandra had pulled away and had tried to wrap herself in the plastic at some point in the night, so I was lying partially on the cold, wet ground. I reached out for my clothes and found a handful of wet cloth. Still, it was better than nothing. I slipped out of the lean-to as quietly as I could so as not to wake her.

  Once outside, I could see that it was pretty close to dawn. The trees were shadowy and gray around the lean-to, everything taking on that pearly glow. I pulled myself together and got some clothes on while I thought about what to do next. The offer of Sandra’s apartment was tempting. It wouldn’t be too hard to come up with a story that everyone else would believe. And I’d get me a real-live genuine park ranger in the bargain: not an easy thing to turn down.

  I found a slightly drier patch on the ground to sit on while I struggled with getting my boots on. Then I leaned against one of the big old trees and just let the morning flow over me. God, I needed a coffee. And a breakfast sandwich of some sort. But it was beautiful up there on the hill in the quiet. I could even see parts of Sandra, still naked and sleeping, under the branches, a sight that filled me with a warm happy glow that was almost enough to dry my clothes while other things stayed wet. This had been the best accident of my short, clumsy life to date.

  From somewhere down the hill, I thought I heard a chain saw revving up. I looked at my tree immediately, then at my harness where it lay on the ground in a muddy bundle. I picked it up, checking to see what of it was salvageable. While I tried to clean it off, I wondered how long it would be before my friends came to bring supplies and check on me. I thought I should wake Sandra soon if the cold and the dawn didn’t do that for me.

  Or at least, that was what I meant to do. A few minutes later I had the harness untangled. It looked like I could get a few of the cut straps tied together, and it might support me once I did. I hoped. I relaced my boot around my ankle, tightening it up enough that I thought it would support me.

  By the time Sandra woke up and came out of the lean-to, I was halfway up the trunk to my platform. It hurt like hell, but I was getting closer by the minute. “Shit. Get back down here!” was my first indication that my lovely ranger was greeting the day. I thought about turning around, but I didn’t think I could respect myself later, especially if it paved the way to my tree being cut down. I scrambled and grabbed and heaved for another couple of minutes until I finally collapsed on my platform.

  Then I turned around and looked down. Sandra had been getting dressed while I’d been climbing. Now she was standing at the foot of the tree, hands on her hips while she glared up at me. She looked so fierce and rangery that if I’d been on the ground in front of her, I probably would have groveled. As it was, I was going to settle for drooling, just a bit. I couldn’t believe she’d gone for me in the first place, even if she was pretty furious with me right now. I tried my best placating smile. “I left my phone number in your shirt pocket.”

  She was still glaring as she unbuttoned it and pulled out the little scrap of paper. “So you did.” The way she said it could’ve restored the polar ice caps. I figured I’d blown my only shot at her ever using it and thought about beating my head against the trunk of the tree, just in case it would help.

  And it did. That image restored my sense of priorities. I was up here for a purpose, and I couldn’t imagine any ranger worth my time not secretly sympathizing. St
ill, I crossed my fingers for luck, up where she couldn’t see them, in hopes that she wouldn’t toss that scrap of paper. That, of course, was when my buddies showed up. Sandra stood aside and let them shout up at me. She didn’t stop them from loading supplies into my basket when I lowered it down. From what I could see, everyone was being very polite to one another, if not precisely friendly.

  Her radio crackled back to life as I watched, and she gave me an unreadable look as she called in. I kept my friends occupied while she kicked in the lean-to’s supporting beam. There went the evidence; the lumber company and her boss must be on their way up. After that, it was all over but the shouting. They tried to get me down, I stayed up, and it all made for a long day. But at the end of it, my tree and I were still there. And as Sandra left, she tilted her face up and gave me what looked like a wink. I knew I wasn’t imagining that she’d patted her shirt pocket as she walked away.

  LITTLE LOU

  Gala Fur Translated by Noël Burch

  It was preview time in Paris galleries, and I parked my midnight-blue Mercedes in front of Les Larmes d’Eros. Even as I closed the door, a wind blowing up from the Bastille found its way through the zip of my rubber sheath dress and chilled my thighs. I parted the black drapes that masked the doorway, anxious to find refuge within the comforting walls of a gallery where connoisseurs of fetish art gathered once a month.

  A transvestite in governess guise, white scalloped apron over a blue mohair dress, relieved me of the chinchilla stole that kept my bare shoulders warm. It was a typically Parisian get-together, full of men in black, all thrilled to be rubbing shoulders with enticing submissives and budding dominatrices. I recognized a few familiar faces; among them, Little Lou. Coquettish in a plaid, schoolgirl miniskirt, she shone forth in a circle of men who were hanging on her every word. A tousled mane of red hair danced flamelike over her rodent-face and was set off nicely by the dark clothes of her timid suitors. A memory of her naked body flashed through my mind: a pretty body, dense and flexible as a gymnast’s, glimpsed emerging from her bathroom one day while I was visiting. With feigned embarrassment, she’d drawn the towel she was holding over her breasts but made no effort to hide her pubis, plucked clean as a Métro ticket. She’d shown me her bedroom through a half-open doorway: a canopied bed with a pile of dildos beside it in lieu of teddy bears for that ambiguous Lolita, who was a head-huntress by day for a major European consultancy.