Best Lesbian Erotica 2010

IN THE SAUNA Stella Watts Kelley

Bridget was the kind of woman whose presence conjured immediate fantasies in anyone who loved women, the kind of woman who turned cowboys into stammering fools and made straight women question their sexuality. She was equally beautiful with or without makeup, dressed in strappy black heels, plunging-necked halters and silky black skirts, or in running pants, dripping with sweat from a gym workout. The teenage boys in her fitness class couldn’t get changed fast enough; they trotted behind her, ready to do an hour of push-ups and crunches if that was her wish, grateful for the opportunity to be in her presence.

Soft spoken with a ready laugh, she was simultaneously elegant in bearing and down-to-earth, a nature girl who loved to surf and snowboard. She wore low-rise jeans and clingy shirts that somehow managed to look both sexy and restrained. I first met her at a preschool potluck dinner at our children’s school. Our families often ate together; our husbands became fast friends and often went mountain-biking. And every time I looked at her, I wanted to take her clothes off.

She was not the first woman to arouse desire in me; as a child, I often had crushes on my female friends. But my husband and I met when we were quite young, before I’d had the opportunity to explore that particular aspect of my sexuality. And so, for more than twenty years, my desires remained known only to me, lying dormant because of both my vow to my husband and, frankly, a lack of opportunity. I sometimes wondered what would happen if the opportunity presented itself, but decided I’d leave that bridge uncrossed.

One summer, when our sons were invited to a birthday party at a classmate’s house, Bridget suggested we spend our free day at a nearby spa. Our husbands thought it great that we were having a “girls’ day out” to pamper ourselves and looked forward to our returning open armed and relaxed. In the empty changing room, we found our lockers, one next to the other, and began to undress. Between periods of comfortable silence and light conversation, initiated by Bridget, I listened, offering a word of agreement here and there. Mostly, I watched her undress.

I had never seen her naked. As she removed each item of clothing, she placed it in the locker. First she took off her T-shirt, revealing a slender but muscular back, evenly tanned a deep cinnamon. Her silky auburn hair brushed the middle of her spine, and as her hair shifted, I noticed a small tattoo of a Chinese character on her left shoulder blade. I wondered what it signified but didn’t ask. I removed my own shirt and bra, noting the contrast between my pale skin and her darker hue. As she reached to put her shirt in the locker, my gaze shifted to her breasts. Her small breasts were perfectly formed, petite, round and plump, each tipped with a small areola and lovely, deep pink nipple.

We removed our pants, and as I bent slightly forward to take down my denim capris, I peeked from under my own long hair as her jeans slid down over her thighs. Could she tell I was watching her? No, she seemed focused on what she was saying. Her words were just sounds coming from her mouth; I couldn’t hear their meaning, but I loved the calming sound of her voice, the delightful music of her laughter, the flash of her smile. As I watched each piece of clothing come off, my mouth went dry. I longed to touch her but kept my hands on my own clothes. So this is what it feels like for men, I thought. As a woman, I was used to being watched. Now, I savored the role of watcher.

She removed her red satin thong as I reached down to pull my jeans and underpants off. As I balanced briefly on my left foot, my head came tantalizingly close to her beautifully formed buttocks. I felt if I wasn’t careful, my hair might brush against her smooth, rounded cheeks. I imagined how it would feel to be on the receiving end—her long, soft hair brushing my bare behind. I picked up my panties and put them in the locker; they were damp and smelled musky. Standing there naked before her, I felt wet and vulnerable.

Bridget grabbed her towel and turned away, heading into the spa. I followed, trotting along behind like the boys in her class. We pondered the choices: Jacuzzi, steam room, or sauna. Bathing suits were required for the Jacuzzi, but no one was around, so we slipped in bare. Above us, high windows flooded the room with daylight, diffused by a tint in the glass. From where we sat, we could see the sauna door at the head of a narrow hallway. Past it, farther down, was the steam room.

Bridget pressed a white, plastic button on the tile floor to start the whirlpool. As the jets rumbled into action, I positioned myself in front of one and felt it pound onto the small of my back. I opened my legs and lifted my pelvis off the bench so that the water in the center of the pool was forced up between my thighs, offering a gentle massage. As I stretched my legs forward, my left calf brushed Bridget’s. She smiled and didn’t move it away. Had that been a smile of pleasure at the sensation of our legs touching, or was she merely being friendly? I allowed our legs to touch for a moment longer, but the electricity traveling up my limbs was too much. I moved it away.

We chatted for a bit, then she leaned backward, eyes closed, arms draped across the sides of the tub, neck arched against the tile. Her cheekbones were high, but not overly defined, her eyelids small and delicate, fringed with long, ebony lashes. Her brows were neatly tweezed into lovely, gradual arches, thicker near the bridge of her nose, thinner at the outside edges. Her ears were dainty and delicate, like little shells. I imagined tracing their edges with my finger, leaning over and gently kissing her tiny lobes, my breath warm, my tongue exploring inside them, my mouth moving to kiss her neck below.

I closed my eyes and pondered where I was going with this. I’m married, I thought. I’ve never even been with a woman before. Am I going to just fantasize all day until I’m insane with desire? I watched her brush a damp strand of hair from her face. How delicious it would be to have a secret. I leaned back and tried to push all thoughts from my mind. After a while, Bridget opened her eyes. I suggested we move on to the steam room, which she thought was a good idea since we were already wet.

I placed my towel on the bench and sat down; she put hers right next to mine. My skin prickled. I wondered if she felt the electricity between us. I looked at her, and she smiled at me. I smiled back, swallowed and looked around at the white tiles dripping with condensation. The air felt oppressive, sensual. I tried not to look at her. Before long, we were both perspiring, and from the corner of my eye, I watched a rivulet of sweat make its way from her neck, between her soft breasts, across her almost-flat stomach, athletic and toned except for a perfect little pillow below her belly button. The rivulet continued on past her navel, then disappeared into the neatly trimmed brown bush between her legs. How I longed to trace its path with my finger.

There was a loud hiss as fresh steam filled the room. Bridget’s face glistened through the fog. She began talking again, and her warm, quiet voice echoed against the tile walls. She wondered aloud at my surprising silence. She asked whether something was bothering me. That depends on how you define the word bother, I thought. It was all I could do to answer her without stammering.

I tried to think of something to say, something that would lead me where I wanted to go, but all I could muster was a bland response about enjoying the heat. She didn’t seem convinced, so I mentioned that I didn’t often have the opportunity to relax this way. I caught her eye, and she smiled. My heart raced.

“I know what you mean,” she said, reaching toward me and covering my hand gently with hers. I felt the electricity again and wondered whether that touch had been a communication, an indication of her own desire.

The heat was getting uncomfortable. Bridget suggested a cold rinse to follow the steam. I laughed to myself, the old cliché about horny husbands and uninterested wives coming to mind. So, this is what I get for my lustful thoughts: a cold shower.

In fact, the cold rinse made me more aroused. My heart pounded as the freezing water ran down my chest; I felt my nipples stand on end. I hopped from foot to foot, turning to let the water rain on my back and buttocks. From the stall next to me, I heard Bridget moan and shiver with delight and wondered where the water was falling on her body. I imagined it following the path of that rivulet of sweat and being warmed by her pussy.

I dried myself, rubbing the towel briskly over my body. As blood circulated through my cold limbs, my skin tingled. Bridget emerged from the shower next to me, dripping wet and radiant. Her nipples, too, were hard, and gooseflesh covered her glistening body. Those tiny bumps on her skin sent me into such a state of agitation it was all I could do not to just grab her and press her to the cold tile floor underneath me.

The dry heat of the sauna welcomed us, slowly warming our cold skin. Bridget lay on the bottom bench on her towel; I sat above, the perfect vantage point for casual observation. There were benches along two of the sauna’s four walls, and they connected at right angles. Like every other part of the spa so far, it was empty. There was a thermostat on the wall, which Bridget turned up when we came in, and next to it, a timer. When she turned the dial, the lights came on, and I could hear the heat coming up. It took only a moment to get hot. I didn’t notice how long she’d set the timer for; it hardly seemed to matter.

I inhaled the dry air and smelled cedar. I leaned back against the wall and felt the warmth of the wood radiate through my skin, listened to the crackling of the rocks. Except for my state of sexual distraction, I felt at ease.

I looked down at Bridget. Her eyes were closed. She was lying flat on her back, legs separating just slightly as they fell apart from one another. Her wet hair spread under her neck and shoulders. Her body was so perfect; there wasn’t a single stretch mark. Every inch of her looked smooth and soft and perfectly formed.

I was taking in the curve of her belly when she opened her eyes and caught me staring. My heart raced. There was an inviting softness in her gaze. Neither of us said anything, and without moving my eyes from hers, I reached down with my big toe and began to trace a line up the inside of her calf to her thigh. Her chest heaved as she released a breath; her legs parted slightly, and she closed her eyes.

Part of me wanted to bolt out the sauna door; instead, I climbed down from the top bench and squatted next to her on the floor. Where my toe had been, I now placed my hand, retracing the same line with my four fingers, this time not stopping at her thigh. As my fingertips reached between her legs, she gasped just a little and parted them more. I explored the warmth there; I was surprised to find she was wet. I took this as encouragement and moved my head toward her mouth, my fingers still caressing her labia and stroking toward her clit.

As my face neared hers, she opened her eyes and parted her lips a bit. I moved to kiss her, and her lips met mine and parted. The tips of our tongues touched, and we spent a moment there, tasting one another’s sweetness before pushing farther inside. I had never tasted a mouth so soft in every way: her lips, her tongue, the way she kissed me back and probed my tongue and teeth. I felt a warmth in my stomach; every part of me was alive and pulsating.

The sauna was hot now. I didn’t know how long we could last, but there was no stopping. I moved my lips from hers and began kissing her long, graceful neck. I licked the beads of sweat there with the tip of my tongue and tasted her saltiness. I worked my way up to her ears as I had imagined doing as we’d sat in the Jacuzzi. I gently tugged her earlobes between my teeth and softly exhaled into her ear. I took a breath to try to quiet the sound of my heart in my own ears; then, I whispered, “I want to taste all of you.” She moaned and said, “Take your time.” I moved down toward her breasts with my mouth as my fingers continued to stroke her pussy. I placed my thumb inside her labia and my fingers on her mound and repeatedly stroked them inward toward one another. She wiggled her hips. With my other hand, I touched her breast, brushing the nipple with my fingertip. She groaned again, and I kissed between her breasts, remembering the rivulet of sweat from the steam room. I licked my way to the nipple I was caressing and took it into my mouth.

She squirmed on the bench as the heat in the sauna intensified. I heard someone in the locker room. My heart pounded. I glanced toward the small window in the door and caught a glimpse of a woman’s head. She walked past the sauna, and as I sighed in relief, the timer shut off both the heat and the light. Only a small stream of daylight entered the room from the door, illuminating Bridget’s body with a dim glow.

I made my way down her belly, admiring the feel of it with my mouth. The underlying muscles were smooth and toned but not overly muscular, and the tiny fleshiness I’d noticed earlier was delicious under my lips. I licked and kissed the area above and below her belly button, then teased the inside of it with my tongue before moving down. All the while, my fingers worked their way inside her, massaging in and out. She began to arch now, and I could feel her wetness running down my fingers. When my mouth reached her pussy, she parted her legs fully, resting one up against the top bench. I repositioned myself between her legs and went down on her.

Her scent was familiar, like my own pussy when I’ve been sweating, a smell I’ve always loved, but there was something different too, a deep earthiness all her own that was almost perfumey. Her swollen cunt opened itself to me as I licked her inner labia upward in long, slow strokes. I stopped at the base of her clit, and the teasing had the intended effect. She moved her pelvis toward my face, and when I didn’t oblige, she began to softly plead with me, “Please, please.”

I began to move my tongue in slow circles, lightly sweeping over her clit. On the third time around, as my tongue touched her clit, she reached down, grabbed my head and held it in place. I applied firm pressure with my tongue, and she arched up fully and came. I felt the shudder down the whole of her body, and the sudden release of fluid. Being on the receiving end of her cum was sexier than I could have imagined. Above me, her mouth panted and gasped. I pressed my lips to her belly for a moment, giving her a rest before going down on her a second time.

She hugged me gently with her legs and then, in one motion, sat up on her knees and pushed me backward onto the bench with her hands. She lay her damp body on top of mine and kissed me deep and hard; her tongue penetrated and explored my mouth, kissing me from every angle. She moved her pelvis against mine, and I moved with her, feeling her wetness mingle with my own. She reached down and began fucking me hard with two fingers. At the same time, her mouth followed a path down to my breasts. Its route mimicked my own mouth’s path on her, but where I had been gentle, she was rough and furious, devouring me with her lips and tongue—and occasionally, her teeth. Her intensity made me hot, and I groaned.

One hand continued to move inside me, while the other grabbed the flesh under my ribs, fingers wrapping around to my back. She took my nipple into her mouth, and I almost yelled as I came, arching my pussy into her palm. She sucked hard at my nipple, her tongue flicking across it at regular intervals, and I once again moved my pelvis to meet her hand as she penetrated me over and over again. The sauna had stopped radiating heat, but it was still hot inside, as we sweated and slid against each other in the dim light.

Bridget’s head came up from my breast; she flipped her hair back over her shoulders and came back to my mouth. She kissed me hard again and in seconds was down on me, her tongue inside me. In her frenzy, Bridget’s body had pushed me forward so that my head was now nearly underneath the top bench near where the two pairs met in the corner. I reached up and held on to the bench above, flexing my arms above my head and spreading my legs wide. I came again, this time ejaculating. She let out a moan of delight, and before I could respond, she was down on me again until I couldn’t take any more and lay there panting, her body limp on top of my own.

When we walked out of the sauna, collected and nonchalant, towels wrapped around us, the spa was empty except for a light visible through the steam room window. In the shower, we washed and caressed each other behind the curtain. We shampooed each other’s hair and openly took in one another’s naked bodies in the bright daylight, no longer stealing glances. We giggled like girls and kissed under the spray of the shower before drying and dressing.

Before we left, Bridget turned to me and said, “I always felt this waiting to happen with us. Didn’t you?”

As we made our way out into the day’s bright glare, I felt her fingertips reach out and brush mine, gently squeezing and then letting go.