Best Lesbian Romance 2014

by Radclyffe

Her finger traced my thighs. “I know. That’s not the question. Remember what you asked me about six months ago?”

  “Yes.” Like I’d ever forget. Moving in together seemed right. Was she going to tell me she wasn’t ready or that it wasn’t an option? “We don’t need to talk about anything tonight. Just rest.”

  Tess frowned. “You don’t want me to move in? I understand.”

  “What? Wait a second. Now you want to?” Tess kept me on my toes. That much was still true.

  She nodded. “Before, I thought it’d make it worse for you to have my job there in your face every day. My guns in your house permanently.” Tess looked at her hurt hand. “I need you. And not just for this week with my hand. All the time. I’m not comfortable or happy without you. I’ve been a totally stressed-out bitch since we broke up. Just ask Jack.”

  “Took you long enough to realize it. I must confess that you make me feel safe. At least I’ll know you’re home safe with me every night.” I couldn’t control my smile. “Take your pill and tomorrow we’ll go to your place and get some stuff.”

  Tess rolled her eyes but popped the pill and sipped the water. “That pill was different.” She grabbed the prescription bottle and glared at me.

  “Well, look at that. I brought your pain pills.” I shrugged. She needed at least one night of good sleep to recover. I tugged the sheet over us as I shifted down and rested my head on her shoulder. “Now let’s get some sleep.”

  “You’ll pay for this.” She wrapped her arm around me.

  I kissed her throat. “I know. Tomorrow we’ll get all your sex toys and sexy underwear. I’m sure you’ll be very creative.”

  She didn’t respond. I looked up to find her already asleep. I cuddled close and let her heartbeat lull me until I joined her.

  THE FAN CLUB

  Catherine Maiorisi

  I walked into my dorm room and stumbled on a pair of black lace bikini panties lying on the floor. Dumbfounded, and completely creeped out, I turned on the light. Lace bikini panties of every color and size were draped over everything, like crepe paper decorations after a New Year celebration.

  Before I could react, I was pushed into the room. The door slammed. Angry, I turned to confront my attackers. And without quite knowing how it happened, I found myself sitting in my desk chair facing seven women. Oops. I’d had a relationship with each of them, one at a time, in the last year and a half. I offered the sexy smile that got them every time, but no one smiled back. I was in trouble.

  “We’re here to do an intervention, Brett.” It was Benita, the psychology major, who spoke.

  “An intervention? Like in family therapy?”

  Kate, one of the four who had her first lesbian experience with me, took over.

  “We’re here tonight because we love you and we believe that continuing on your current path will destroy many lives, including yours.”

  “Is this some kind of joke? And why are the seven of you even together? You’re not friends.” I tried to stand, but Mercy of the lovely dark eyes and the seductive Spanish accent put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me down. “Stay.”

  “We’re members of an exclusive Smith College club, the Friends of Brett Cummings. We calculate there are about twenty members,” Kate continued. “But the others have graduated, so only the seven of us could be here tonight. Twenty lovers in three and a half years is impressive, Brett.”

  “I don’t get it. I told you all up front that I don’t do commitment. Did I not?”

  Seven heads nodded.

  “And, while I was with each of you, I never cheated. I was totally there, focused on you, loving you. We had fun. Yes?”

  Seven heads nodded.

  “Wasn’t I honest and loving and gentle when I felt I had to break up?”

  Meagan, the poet, stepped forward. She looked into my eyes. “You were all those things, Brett, and more. And that’s why each of us fell in love with you despite your warnings. Then when we loved you, you left us.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? I feel suffocated in a committed relationship.”

  Benita crouched so we were on the same level. “Brett, we know your father committed suicide and you took responsibility for your younger brother and sister when your mother fell apart, so it’s not surprising that you want to be free, that you’re afraid of commitment. But we feel it’s hurting you.”

  Benita stood and Kate knelt to take her place. “You are a beautiful woman, Brett, inside and outside, which is why so many of us love you. I’m grateful that it was you who brought me out. I couldn’t have asked for a more loving experience. However, you’re like the protagonist in that movie Groundhog Day, repeating the same experience over and over. By keeping everything on the surface, you’re depriving yourself of love. If you continue living this way, we fear that in years to come you’ll find yourself alone, never having experienced the comfort that a committed relationship can bring.”

  “Okay, ladies, I hear you. Thanks for caring.”

  “We’re not finished, luvvie,” Tally said, in her clipped British way.

  “So when does this club of yours meet? Shouldn’t I attend as the guest of honor? Maybe we can even have an orgy.”

  “Listen, luvvie, we know you’re nervous. We think you’re too focused on sex and we’re very serious about this intervention. Here’s our plan for your last semester at Smith.” Tally put a finger up. “First, you forgo any sexual relationship until you graduate—”

  “And second, I slit my wrists? Come on, ladies, get serious.”

  “If you approach any woman on campus, we’ll take her aside and warn her to stay away. If necessary, we’ll start a rumor that you have some exotic sexually transmitted disease.”

  “You’re not serious?”

  “We’re totally serious.” Tally held up a second finger. “Second, we want you to go into therapy to talk about this stuff. We’ve set up an appointment with the new psychologist. You start tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Now wait a minute.”

  “No, you wait a minute, Brett.” Tally’s voice was firm. “We’ve spent hours talking about you—”

  I couldn’t help the smirk. “Comparing notes, that’s not fair.”

  “Maybe we did a bit of that in the beginning, but it was mostly anger and a desire to hurt you that brought us together. But we’re way beyond that. We all care about you. We want you to be whole, Brett, not just some fucking machine. For some reason that even we don’t understand, it’s important to us that you be all that you can be.”

  I was moved. They really cared even though I’d loved and left each of them. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Uh-uh. Not good enough.” Kate, future lawyer of America, piped up. “We’ve prepared a contract detailing your commitments to us.” She handed me a sheet of paper. “And we’re not leaving until you sign it.”

  The document outlined what I promised to do or, rather, not do. In truth, I’d almost come to the same conclusion as my fan club. An hour before I left for the month-long holiday break I’d ended my relationship with Mercy, and the hurt in her eyes and the sobs racking her body left me feeling guilty and ashamed. But as the month wore on, I reconsidered. After all, I was always up front about what I wanted, and learning to deal with rejection is part of life and could strengthen a person, so why should I deprive myself?

  Clearly, my seven exes were serious about my not having another relationship this semester. I wasn’t ready to swear off sex for that long, but signing would keep the peace. And when I found someone I was attracted to, I’d deal with the consequences. “Okay, give me a pen.”

  The seven women high-fived all around.

  “I hear what you’re saying and I appreciate where it comes from. I promise to try.”

  I signed. They cheered. We all hugged.

  “What’s with the bikini panties?”

  “We wanted to get your attention, so we each contributed a couple of pairs.”

  “Which reminds me. Who kept a c
opy of my key?” I looked at Benita and Mercy, both of whom I had been involved with last semester.

  Kate smiled. “We all have copies and we’ll be doing spot checks to make sure you haven’t brought someone here for sex.”

  “Okay, I get it. Now take your panties and go. My first class of the semester is tomorrow morning at eight and I need my beauty sleep.”

  One by one they kissed me, picked up their panties and headed for the door. Mercy was the last. Her kiss was soft and full of love.

  The seven paused at the door. “Remember, we’ll be watching,” Kate said.

  I couldn’t help myself. “Please let me know when the next meeting is, I’d love to attend.”

  Bikini panties flew through the air, landing on my head and my lap and my shoulders. They closed the door and left. I sat there surrounded by the fragrance of them and marveled at what had just happened.

  The next morning I bolted out of bed at seven forty, threw on some clothes, grabbed coffee, a banana and a muffin at the cafeteria and hustled over to the Advanced Psychology lecture hall. The professor was writing something on the blackboard when I arrived. Keeping my eyes on her back, I started up the steps, tripped and fell to my knees. Somehow I managed to keep the coffee in my hand. The class laughed. Mortified, I stood and turned to do a mea culpa, only to lock eyes with a sultry, dark-haired, dark-eyed young woman. In that instant, powerless with the intensity of her, my body in flames, it was us, only us. And I was hers forever.

  She leaned in close and whispered, “Breathe.”

  I exhaled.

  “Welcome.” Her smile was blinding. She reached for the container of coffee, then sipped it. “Ah, just how I like it, black, no sugar.” She took the bag from my other hand. “A corn muffin and a banana. Yummy.” She turned and put everything on her desk. I stood there smirking, like a goofball.

  She smiled again and waved her hand toward the chairs. “Please take a seat, Ms….?”

  Somebody on the aisle poked me. I couldn’t move. The person on the other side of the aisle pulled me into her chair and slid over. It was Tally. I couldn’t take my eyes off the woman standing at the front of the class. This was Dr. Browning’s course. Who was she? What was she doing here?

  “You with the smirk on your face, please introduce yourself.”

  Tally elbowed me. “What’s wrong with you?” she whispered. “Tell the professor your name.”

  Oh, my name. “Um, Cummings, Brett Cummings.”

  She stared right into my eyes, lifted my coffee to her lips and sipped. It was the most sensual thing I’d ever experienced. I might have had an orgasm right there if Tally hadn’t pinched me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Thank you for breakfast, Brett.”

  Her voice was deep and strong and flowed through me like warm honey.

  “So, as I was saying when Ms. Cummings interrupted to deliver my breakfast, I am Dr. Emily Caldwell. Dr. Browning was in an auto accident over the holidays and will be out for the entire semester, so you lucky devils get to study with me.”

  I almost swooned.

  She passed out the syllabus and took care of some administrative stuff, then began to lecture. She was brilliant and pulled me in. I tapped away at my laptop, writing down as much as I could catch of the lecture. Every time I looked up, her eyes were on me. I was certain it was because she’d had the same visceral reaction as me, not because I was seated in her line of vision.

  It seemed like minutes later that the class ended, but the pages of notes I’d typed assured me that the class was the usual length. I waited while my classmates spoke to her. When we were alone, I asked if I could come to her office to discuss some questions.

  She took my hand and looked into my eyes. Fluttering butterflies filled me from head to toe. “No. Meet me at the Coffee Bean for breakfast tomorrow morning at eight.”

  Once again, I was unable to speak.

  “Are you always this mute or is it me?”

  I managed to croak an answer. “You.”

  She patted my hand. “You really need to work on that smirk and your social skills.” She walked to the door. “Coffee Bean, tomorrow morning at eight.” She left and I sank into the nearest chair.

  Tally came back into the room. “You all right, luv? You seem strange this morning.” She put a hand on my forehead. “I think you have a fever. Get some rest, but don’t forget you have a therapy appointment with Dr. Caldwell this afternoon.”

  “Dr. Caldwell? This Dr. Caldwell?”

  “Yes, this Dr. Caldwell. She’s a beauty, eh? I hear she’s a great therapist. Gotta run, be good.”

  Did the club’s document apply to faculty as well as students? I jumped up. Therapists can’t sleep with patients. I ran all the way to the psych building, canceled my appointment and scheduled one with another woman therapist for the following week.

  The next morning I was up at six. I ran a couple of miles to calm myself, then showered, washed my hair and brushed it until it was gleaming. After changing clothes five times, I settled on skin-tight jeans and the blue silk shirt that always made me feel sexy. I strolled into the Coffee Bean exactly at eight.

  My stomach lurched. Rather than one of the more private booths in the rear, she’d chosen a booth in the window, exposed to the world. I sat across from her. Had I misunderstood? For all I knew she was married. Not that that was always a problem.

  We sat facing each other, eyes locked again. My body heated up, my breathing was shallow. She seemed composed but her cheeks were flushed. Maybe not a mistake.

  “I’m going to order a real breakfast, and since you bought me breakfast yesterday, today is on me, Ms. Cummings.”

  “Please, call me Brett.”

  The waitress appeared and we both ordered eggs, home fries, toast and coffee.

  “You had some questions, Brett?”

  Questions? Oh, right, about the course. “Yes, but first, what should I call you?”

  She stared out the window for a minute, then looked at me. “How about Dr. Caldwell?”

  “It seems a little formal. I mean, we are having breakfast together.” I flashed my sexiest smile.

  “Ah, a fast mover. Well, we’ve just met, Brett. Besides, you’re my student, so I think Dr. Caldwell is appropriate.”

  Her voice was so sexy. I was getting wet. I fantasized sliding under the table and—

  “Why did you cancel your therapy appointment yesterday?”

  Talk about throwing cold water. What now? Be honest and have her laugh or lie and be a phony?

  The waitress delivered our food and we busied ourselves with buttering toast and salting and peppering eggs and potatoes. Finally, there was nothing to do but answer. I took a deep breath and raised my eyes. “Because it’s unethical for a therapist to have a relationship with a patient.”

  “And you knew yesterday that you wanted to have a relationship with me?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded slowly, her face thoughtful. She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “It’s also unethical for a professor to have a relationship with a student. Can we just be friends?”

  Tears of disappointment stung my eyes. Friendship when I wanted sex or was it love and commitment? My fan club would enjoy this if they knew. “Do I have a choice?”

  “No. Now did you really have questions?”

  “Yes. I’m looking for a job as a stockbroker. Will your psych class help me with the selling part of the job?”

  “Definitely.” She launched into a lecture, which I’m sure was interesting, but my mind was otherwise occupied.

  When she stood to leave, I tried to nail down our next meeting. “Can we have dinner together tonight?”

  “Down, girl. Remember, we’re going to be friends. We are not dating. Talk to me after class tomorrow and we’ll see about getting together again.”

  I was up and down, thinking it was going to happen, then thinking it was impossible because of her ethics. Students and professors were gettin
g it on constantly, but I had to fall for the only ethical professor on campus. Was this punishment for all the hearts I had broken?

  The next morning I arrived at seven fifty with coffee, a banana and a corn muffin for her. She showed up at eight on the dot, ignored the gifts I’d brought and went right into her lecture. A few minutes before the end of the period she ended the discussion and sat on the edge of her desk.

  “I’ve been thinking about how best to communicate all the material I have to cover in a way that will ensure you grasp it. So, I’ll be available Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings at the Coffee Bean for anyone with questions on what we’ve covered. In addition, I’ll host a salon in my rooms Friday evenings for you and any of your friends interested in psychology. Each week, we’ll discuss in depth what I’ve presented in class. Attendance at these extra sessions is optional and will not affect your grade. See you there or not.” Her eyes met mine as she started gathering her things, then a student was between us asking her a question.

  Anger replaced shock. I stormed out.

  I moped around all day Thursday. Friday morning I stayed in bed rather than go to the Coffee Bean. By early Friday evening, I was in withdrawal but wavering about whether to go to her salon when Tally showed up.

  “You want to go to the salon? Check out where the prof lives?”

  It was all I needed to convince me. “You don’t think it will be boring?”

  “If it is, we’ll disappear.”

  So I went. The minute I walked in, I knew it was a mistake. It was painful. She was vivacious and beautiful and I felt there was no room for me in the circle of girls surrounding her. I wandered around looking for clues to her life but found nothing. Every so often our eyes would meet across the room and I’d pretend interest in something else. After twenty minutes I was done. I told Tally I had a headache and went to retrieve my jacket and boots. When I stood after tying my boots, she was there. I swayed toward her. She stepped back.

  Her dark eyes were luminous. “Leaving?”

  I broke eye contact to shrug into my jacket. “I have a headache.”

  “We haven’t had a chance to talk. Can I get you a cup of tea or an aspirin?”