Best Lesbian Erotica 2011

INTRODUCTION

I picked up a twentysomething-year-old Jewish straight girl when I went out for Chinese with my manager last Saturday night. There is just something about those inelegant, bespectacled, somewhat tightly wound straight girls. To me they are a narcotic, a kind of annoying heroin that once you shoot it up, you are endowed with a permanent hard-on coupled with a giant stomach ulcer. I know this and I still can’t leave ’em alone, especially the Jewish ones. Especially the Jewish ones with huge knockers.

She invites me up to her Central Park West doorman apartment for “a drink.” Of course we know where this will end. She offers me a glass of wine, which I eagerly accept. I always find with the straight ones that a little alcohol loosens the inhibitions. Remember, you want to “imbibe” her. It doesn’t work to get her to the point where she has a drink and the next thing she knows she’s in the White Castle on 8th and 36th at 3:00 a.m. … and she’s working there. Shoot for becoming the tragic end of a “bottoming out” story at an AA meeting. If it’s a hot night it’s worth it.

I flirt. We move to her couch. We have another glass. I ramp up the flirt a little more. She gives me that look that girls give you when they want you to make the first move, and (without revealing the details a gentlemen should not tell) I give her an orgasm.

She immediately bursts into tears. She won’t let me hold her or comfort her in any way… so I just sit there until she finally chills. We talk some more. She rolls over onto her belly.

“Mmm,” I think. We continue to talk. She starts to move her hips a little. “Mmm,” I think once more. Now get this, she raises her ass in the air. Actually raises it in the air.

“Okay!” I think, and one thing leads to the next. I end up giving her yet another orgasm and… she bursts into tears again.

You have got to be joking, I am screaming in my mind. I mean, I am aware that the fear of homosexuality that a lot of women repress can be stressful but Really? Do you have to fucking cry twice in front of a complete stranger? Or are you one of those babes who cry every time they come?

She then begins a mantra of how she can’t be a lesbian, her family will disown her, what about her job? You know, the stuff we all went through around 135 years ago that nobody really does anymore, at least not since “Will and Grace” went into syndication. Well, maybe they still do it in Zimbabwe.

So I, being the reasonable one (and, by the way, how fucking wrong is that?) start saying nice things to her like: “Having sex with a woman once does not a lesbian make.” And: “Having sex with me certainly doesn’t, as it is exactly like having sex with a man.” None of which is working. She begins a tirade, no, more like dissertation consisting of some very uncomplimentary things about first, lesbians in general; and second, me specifically: That I am callous. That this is just a conquest for me, “another notch on my belt” is how she actually put it. That I got what I wanted and now what was I going to do…?

Of course I am thinking I GOT WHAT I WANTED?! All I wanted was uncomplicated casual sex with a horny babe that I just met. Yeah. I really got what I wanted.

Then she says: “I’m having an emotional crisis, and you don’t even care!” That is when the obvious solution hit me and I answered, “You know what? You’re right.” Then I left.

I am unsure what my lesson should be from this experience. I think some would say, “Be more careful and gentle with women and their emotions and their perception of intimacy.” However, I think the lesson might be this: If a story begins with the sentence “I was fucking this straight girl…” there needs to be a roofie involved, or it will end in tears.

Better still, the next time I’m feeling “anxious,” if you know what I mean, I will put down the girl and pick up a good book of Lesbian Erotica. Why… here’s one now!

Lea DeLaria