Best Women's Erotica 2009

by Violet Blue

  “Would you take her to a motel, or go back to her place?”

  “I’d take her to our apartment,” Peta said.

  Our apartment. Our Washington Park den, all polished floors and wide windows that let the setting sunlight stream through over the tops of the Rockies, over our collection of houseplants, over Moggie, our cat, as she lay sunning herself on the sill. Over our lives. Into our lives.

  I glanced at Peta; she was still watching me and the slight quiver of her hard brown abs below the crop top told me how deadly serious she was.

  Continue the game, continue the pretence.

  “What would you do with her?”

  “I’d kiss her in the shadows between the pools of light on Colfax, and she’d sigh into my mouth in acceptance. She’s wanted this; she’s wanted someone to seduce her slowly. It’s all too hard and fast for her in the Pink Light. Then, I’d take her hand and we’d go home.”

  “How would you get home?”

  “Taxi. You and I never take the car when we go to the Pink Light as we always drink too much to drive. And Suzie would have had a couple too many, deliberately for Dutch courage. She wants to go through with this, she’s just afraid of the unknown.”

  “Us? Where am I then?”

  “You’re following me and Suzie down Colfax, a few paces behind, and you’re watching. Watching how our hands intertwine, watching the slant of her hips toward me, watching how she skips and prances like a little girl being led home by Daddy. And then you’re in the front seat of the taxi, trying hard not to look at what we’re doing in the back.”

  “What are you doing in the back?”

  “Gentling her. Soothing her skitteriness, like she’s a filly that needs breaking. Calming her nerves, as now she knows there’s no going back. So I’m holding her curved against my side, and I’m stroking that wispy blonde hair back from her face. Telling her how pretty she is, how desirable. Maybe I’m kissing her cheek, soft little kisses, sliding around to the edge of her lips.”

  “Why our apartment?”

  Peta sat up in one smooth movement and her hand came out to touch me. The first time, I noted absently, that she’d touched me since this game began. Only it wasn’t a game anymore. Her fingers walked down my arm and laced themselves with mine.

  “If it’s in our apartment I’m not excluding you. You’re a part of it, Ria. How could it happen otherwise?”

  It need not happen at all, I wanted to shout. She could forget this crazy idea, this macho strutting to take Suzie’s lesbian virginity. Was it something to boast about in the Pink Light? I wasn’t sure I could handle that, if it was; sitting there, stony-faced, staring into my beer, pretending not to care as Peta told and retold the story of her conquest.

  And what of Suzie herself? Would she fade into the woodwork after this, curiosity assuaged? Or would she hang around, wanting more? Would she want Peta for her own?

  I stared down at our intertwined fingers, at Peta’s hard blunt paws, at my plump white manicured fingers. I didn’t know what to say.

  A thump in the small of my back toppled me forward, my head coming to rest on Peta’s knee. She settled me carefully, stroking the hair from my eyes with one hand, while the other scooted the football, which had hit me, back to its owner, reassuring them that there was no damage, no apology necessary.

  Her expectant face peered down at me. “You okay?”

  Somehow, I thought she meant more than simply the blow from the football. “I think so.”

  She nodded, and a finger traced the outline of my lips. I kissed it as it went by.

  “So what happens when we arrive at our apartment?” I asked.

  “Despite my consideration in not jumping her in the cab, Suzie’s still nervous, so she asks if she can have a drink. I’m putting on some music—something mellow, like k.d. lang—so you go and get a bottle of red. You can’t find the corkscrew—no doubt I’ve put it away in the wrong drawer again—so when you return, Suzie and I are dancing.

  “I’m holding her close, and my hips are pressed into hers. My hand’s on her butt, molding her close to me.”

  “Are you packing?”

  Her hand shifted to my arm, and her thumb stroked the side of my breast. I turned to rub my cheek against her thigh. She wasn’t packing now.

  “Yes, so Suzie can feel the outline of my rigid cock. She sighs a little and slides her arms around my waist. That’s the sign I’ve been waiting for. Now I can move into a higher gear, so I kiss her properly. Harder, deeper, really tasting her. She kisses me back, her tongue tangling with mine.

  “You can see we don’t need the wine now, so you put it down, and sit on the couch.”

  “Does Suzie mind that I’m there?”

  “She never speaks to you, as if by doing that, she’d have to acknowledge that you were there, watching. She’s pretending that it’s just me and her.”

  “And what about you?”

  “I’m happy you’re there. I wouldn’t be doing it unless you were. I want you to get off on this as much as me, so I’m putting on a show for you. Suzie’s wearing a skirt of some soft cotton. And, slowly, inch by inch, I’m gathering it up at her butt. Now you can see the backs of her thighs. Now, the edge of her panties. What do they look like, Ria?”

  “Peach,” I said, without hesitation. “A real girly-soft peach. And lacy. She’s worn her sexiest underwear deliberately. It looks good against her pale skin.”

  Peta’s thumb stroked soft circles, inching ever closer to my nipple with each pass. I sighed gently—as Suzie would do—in acceptance of the spell her words were weaving.

  “And her legs,” prompted Peta. “What do they look like?”

  “Pale. She keeps her skin out of the sun. Only a hint of color. Soft legs. She’s not the sporty type. She stays slim by picking at her food, not by exercise.”

  “When I get her skirt up to her waist,” Peta continued, “I slide my hand down the top of her panties. Her butt is smooth and warm, and I can feel her shiver. I curve my hand down until I’m tickling the crease between ass and thigh; nearly, but not quite touching the fine hairs of her cunt. We’re still moving slowly to k.d. lang, and I turn us around so that you have a full view of her ass—”

  “And that’s when you slip your fingers lower, farther around, and move one up into her pussy. She gives a little gasp of surprise—she didn’t expect you to move so quickly—but now it’s too late, and you’ve got one, now two, fingers pistoning in and out of her cunt. She’s wet; I can hear the squishy sound your fingers make—”

  “She’s not doing anything to me; she’s simply holding on to my waist and riding my fingers. I want to add more, but the angle’s all wrong. She hasn’t touched me at all; my nipples are hard and tender against my shirt, and I want to adjust my cock so that the base of it gives me friction, but I don’t want to let go of her. But, it’s enough; as you’re watching me, watching us, and your eyes are avid and intent, and now you’re undoing the button on your jeans. You’re shy; you don’t want Suzie to see you, but I can see everything. You’re wearing—”

  “Simple black cotton panties. Unlike Suzie, I didn’t dress for the occasion. They’re old, and the waistband is a little loose, so I can work my fingers down to my pussy without pushing my jeans down farther. My thighs are straining the denim apart, but it’s enough. I’ve got a finger on my clit. You can’t see my pussy, but you know what I’m doing, you know how I like to touch myself.”

  My eyes were closed to the rhythm of our words. Peta’s thighs were hot underneath my cheek, and her own musky scent filled my nose, blending with the tang of grass clippings. I knew—I hadn’t forgotten—that we were in one of Denver’s busiest parks, but it was mattering less and less. I wanted to turn my face into her pussy, pull down her shorts, spread her thighs, and push my nose into her thatch, my tongue into the folds and crevices of her cunt, and suck and slurp and drown in her juices. But even in the words she was weaving, Peta knew me well; public sex just wasn’t my thing. I pr
essed my thighs tightly together so that the pressure grew, and continued.

  “I know you want to fuck her, but there’s no way to move into the bedroom without breaking the spell. So—”

  “I decide to take her here, on the floor, on the only rug in the whole apartment, in front of the wide window that overlooks downtown. So, slowly, I withdraw my fingers from her cunt. She mews a little in disappointment, but she’s looking at me with wide eyes, waiting to see what happens next. Her cheeks are flushed, the pinkness creeps down the front of her T-shirt. She still hasn’t touched me, she won’t touch me, that’s too much for her right now. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll get my own pleasure, and your eyes watching me all the way will bring me there.

  “I step back from her, and yank my T-shirt over my head, kick off my sandals, and push my shorts and jocks down, so that I’m naked in front of her. She may not want to touch me yet, but I want there to be no mistake as to whom she is fucking. My cock springs free, hard and needy. Her hands rise, and her fingers flutter in front of my breasts. She’s wanting to touch, but hasn’t the confidence. It’s irking me a little; she’s all take and no give, this woman. So I curve a hand behind her head and press her head to my breast. Her nose bumps my nipple, she gasps, and hesitates, but now my nipple is at her lips, and she opens her mouth, sucks me in, tongues me, then suckles harder.

  “Your eyes meet mine, over her head, and I wonder what you’re thinking, seeing another woman touch me, suckle me, the first in our five years together.”

  “Part of me wants to scream and drag her off you, kick her perfect little pink bi-curious butt out of our apartment, but most of me wants to see you fuck her, make her scream and shudder around your cock. And now, I’m touching my own nipple under my top, flicking it in time to her suckling. But she’s still dressed. I want to see more than her panties. Get her naked. Now!”

  “Yes, ma’am! I push her away from me, and shuck the skirt off her like the husk off an ear of corn. She stands passively, raising her arms to let me pull her shirt over her head. Her bra matches her panties—she definitely dressed with this in mind. But I don’t stop to admire them; I hook my fingers in the waistband and pull hard.

  “She gives a little strangled cry; the panties must be digging into her sensitive pussy before the material gives way, but I don’t stop, and there’s a loud rip. I toss her ruined panties to one side, and she’s naked, looking up at me with pleading in her eyes. I hesitate; I know she wants me to kiss her, but it’s you I’m thinking of. A kiss at this moment is such an intimate act, I don’t know if you want me to kiss her.”

  “Kiss her,” I order. My eyes are still closed, but Washington Park has faded to a distant background buzz. It’s just me, Peta, and the ethereal Suzie, in the living room of our apartment.

  “So I kiss her and she responds with gratitude. She wants the romance as well as the sex. She tastes of bourbon, so different from you. But kisses aren’t enough—”

  “Fuck her. Take her now.”

  “I direct her hand to my cock. She’s now so far gone that she grasps it eagerly, stroking up and down the shaft. I push my hand on her shoulder, and she sinks to the floor underneath my touch. I kneel over her, part her soft white thighs with one hand. She’s wet; I can see her pussy lips shining. Her pussy hair is so blonde and fine that at first I think she’s shaved herself. She has sparse, soft hair, like a young girl.”

  “Do you go down on her?”

  “I think about it, but I can see you, and your fingers working away underneath your panties. Your face is red, and your breath is hitching in your throat. I know you’re about to come, and I want to see that. So no, I don’t. I kneel between her thighs—”

  “Which way are you facing? Can she see me?”

  “I’m looking directly at you, over her head. If she turned her head to one side she could see you, but she doesn’t. Her gaze is fixed on me, looming over her, cock in hand.”

  “And then—”

  “I fuck her.”

  Oh, god. Wash Park was gone, gone, gone, and my entire being was focused on our apartment and what we were doing—would do? may do?—there.

  “I enter her with one sure thrust,” continued Peta, “and she clutches my shoulder and pants into my face. Her other hand reaches around, underneath her thigh to feel my cock and how it fits inside her. I start to move, and every thrust rubs my cock on my clit. It won’t take much until I come.

  “I rise up and reach between our bodies, find her clit, and rub. And she comes. Just like that, clenching down on my cock, shuddering underneath me, her pretty white teeth biting her bottom lip. Her body goes limp; she lies as flaccid as a wet towel. She’s not a giving lover, but I don’t care. My eyes meet yours over her head—”

  “You thrust harder, faster, until her whole body is shaking with the force of it. It must be uncomfortable for her—your cock is thick and long—and the force of your pounding must be hurting her, but you don’t stop. Because you’re about to come—”

  “And your fingers are working frantically, and your face is flushed and your hair is wet with sweat. Any moment now—”

  “I come. It’s a long, hard, shuddering climax, my body jack-knifes double, and my thighs are rigid. And I scream, uncaring of Suzie, great gulps of air, forcibly exhaled—”

  “I’m coming with you. My final thrusts are almost savage, but I’m coming hard, deep into Suzie. She whimpers underneath me. I stroke her hair gently from her brow, soothing her with incoherent murmurs, but my eyes are still hooked on you, and how beautiful you look in the low light, your sweaty hair over your face. And now it’s over, doubt sets in. My eyes plead with you for reassurance—”

  “I smile. It’s okay. Suzie lies forgotten underneath you, and you and I communicate with our eyes. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  I opened my eyes, back in the real world, Washington Park swimming back into focus. Peta loomed above me, her hand knotted in the fabric of my T-shirt, taut with the spell of our words. She kissed me, her tongue running in demand around my mouth. I could smell her excitement in the cradle of her thighs, the waves of musk that permeated her shorts.

  “So,” she said, when she lifted her head. “Shall we do it?”

  My cunt throbbed. “Do what?”

  “Paris. You said you’d come with me. We might need to fly instead of taking the yacht, but we could still rent a garret and make love to the sound of the Parisian traffic.”

  Right then, I’d have followed her anywhere. “Let’s do it!”

  THE BITCH IN HIS HEAD

  Janne Lewis

  I arrived an hour ago at the London flat that Dimitri’s company keeps for business guests. I have unpacked my suitcase and changed into the light blue silk and lace teddy Dimitri bought for me in Paris. I am wandering around the bedroom holding a bouquet of butt plugs in assorted sizes and a tube of lubricant trying to decide where I can hide them.

  The phone rings.

  Corbin, Dimitri’s assistant, wants to know if the flat has been arranged to suit his boss’s needs.

  “I think everything is okay.” I scan the room. Dimitri has a long list of domestic requirements. “The flat looks immaculate, the bed linens look fine.” I lift the neatly tucked corners of the expensive Frette linens. “The plastic cover on the mattress is in place.”

  Dimitri cannot sleep on a mattress on which others have slept unless it is swathed in a protective layer of plastic.

  “The duvet looks new and appropriately silky.” I open the closet. “Silk dressing gown, silk pajama bottoms. I think you’ve covered all the fabric bases.”

  There are many fabrics and textures Dimitri cannot abide; chief among these are wool, polyester, and latex. His position with a multinational pharmaceutical company requires him to wear latex gloves. He manages to do this for brief periods but the thought of putting on a latex condom makes him nauseated.

  “I brought new glasses and his favorite whiskey,” Corbin tells me. “There’s
some champagne in the fridge for you, ducks, if you survive your night with Mr. Hyde.”

  “Is he that bad?”

  Corbin lowers his voice.

  “He’s vile. He made two senior sales managers cry this morning and then tried to sink his fangs into me. I told him that if he wasn’t nice to me, your flat would not be priss perfect which would probably make him impotent, or he’d have to fuck you in his own flat, in which case it would no longer be his sterile haven.” Corbin snorts. “He turned purple and left me alone. His need for your pussy is my employment protection plan.”

  “Charming.”

  “Sorry, ducks, but it’s true. Work your magic, and send him back to us nice and lamblike.”

  I laugh.

  “I’ll do my best, Corbin.”

  Poor Dimitri. The Bitch in His Head has been riding him hard.

  The Bitch in His Head is my secret name for Dimitri’s mix of neurotic tendencies and obsessive-compulsive disorder. The Bitch isn’t a nasty dominatrix in leather boots and corset; She is too suave for that get up, too elegant. She is beautiful and cruel like the queen in Sleeping Beauty or the evil White Witch in the Narnia stories. She is my enemy, but I know without Her in control, the brilliant, sophisticated, charming Dimitri would never have settled for someone as ordinary as me. Still, there are many times when I wish the Bitch would take a long vacation from our ménage à trois and leave Dimitri and me alone.

  I put the handset down. It rings again.

  “Yes, ducks?” I say, thinking it is Corbin calling back.

  “Don’t use that inane phrase, Alexa.” Dimitri’s deep voice betrays his irritation. “You sound like a fool.”

  My pulse instantly quickens when I hear his voice.

  “Hello, Dimitri. Lovely to hear from you. Did you get my latest test results?”

  Blood samples and oral and vaginal swabs are now part of my weekly routine. The Bitch in His Head would not let Dimitri near me without them.