Best Lesbian Erotica 2014

NOCTURNE Cheryl Jimmerson

I sit beside Lorraine on the soft beige couch in her living room. She rubs the inside of my thigh and kisses my neck. She is a tall, dark woman with a crop of kinky hair, prominent cheekbones and a perfect mouth. I was never going to see her again. I was never supposed to come back here. I should run out the door and back down the stairs to my car. But I like where her hand is now. I like the feel of her mouth on me.

I met her a month ago in a dyke nightclub called The Grove. The first time I heard of it, I was in a car with a group of straight women from the office. We were on our way to a new restaurant for lunch and drove past it.

“We should go there for drinks one night,” someone said.

The others laughed.

“They’ll try to give us more than a drink in there!”

“I heard the police have to come and break up fights.”

“Really?” another said.

“They get into it over their girlfriends and pull knives on each other.”

“Dykes don’t play, you hear me?”

I looked at the eyesore of a building, wondering what it was like at night. The image of it stayed with me well into the evening, as I lay alone in bed. The next night I decided to drive out to see it again. I didn’t dare pull into the crowded lot, but drove by slowly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the women who went there. For several nights I did this without luck.

It’s a squat, dilapidated building, with peeling white paint exposing the flat gray underneath. What stands out are the red double doors that give it the look of an old church. I’d drive by, preferring the safety of my car. Not wanting to cross over into another world, for fear of being unable to return. Each night I’d drive away feeling as if I’d escaped danger.

On the night I finally did turn into the lot and enter the club, I was not myself. I felt like a somnambulist moving through a dream as I got dressed and left my apartment. A shiny sliver of moon was in the sky that night. It followed me down several streets, vanishing once I reached the expressway.

When I reached the club I parked at the very edge of the lot. I stepped out of my car and looked over the rotting wooden fence to the plot of land next door. It was overrun by wild grass and kudzu. Jutting out of its center, with half its trunk covered in the leafy vegetation, was a gnarled tree, with twisted limbs pointing in every direction. I stood there gazing at it before I made my way to the club and pushed through the red doors into a room that was wall-to-wall with women.

I got a drink and sat at a table in a corner, near the edge of the dance area, which was set down into the floor like a pit surrounded by metal railing. The music was fast and beat driven. But the dancers moved far behind the beat, as if they were listening to an entirely different song. I looked down from my chair, watching them kiss and grind into their partners. I had never seen women touch each other openly before.

Women of all different shades stood around the dance floor, watching with attentive, respectful looks, like they were observing a ceremony. Standing apart from them was Lorraine. Instead of watching the dancers, she watched me. I wanted to run. I got up to go to the restroom and was pointed to a dimly lit corridor at the other end of the room. Couples were making out along its walls. I moved slowly, keeping my eyes on one pair in particular as they kissed and rubbed against each other. I wanted to stop and keep watching them but made my way to the restroom where inside, it was more of the same. Women clung to one another while they waited for an available stall, going in two at a time when one was open.

I entered one with a clogged toilet. Its stench filled my nostrils, making me nauseous. I hurried and used it. Then I rushed to the sink, where I washed and rewashed my hands. When I raised my eyes to the mirror, I saw the strikingly dark face from outside staring back at me. For a moment I couldn’t breathe as she moved closer.

“I don’t mean to bother you. I noticed you sitting by yourself out there and thought you might like some company. I’m Lorraine.”

I dried my hands, turned around and extended one to her. She took it in both of hers, enclosing it with long, ebony fingers. I told her my name. It rolled melodically off her tongue.

“Let me buy you a drink, Dory.”

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Well, dance with me then?”

“I don’t dance much.”

“Just one dance or half of one if you like?”

I looked around at the couples waiting against the walls, then back at her.

“Is this your first time here?” she asked.

I nodded. We watched a woman pull her companion into the filthy stall I’d just left, slamming the door behind them. “Fun time,” Lorraine said, winking.

“Disgusting,” I said, walking out and back down the corridor, keeping my eyes straight ahead. When I re-entered the main room, I felt her hand on my arm.

“One dance,” she said, and led me down into the pit of the dance floor.

I stood in front of her, unable to will my body into motion. She raised her arms, swaying her hips as she moved closer to me. I began to rock side to side on the balls of my feet, feeling stiff. She slipped her arm around my waist and pulled me to her, getting my body to fall into rhythm with hers. I stopped trying to follow the music and followed her instead. My body opened as she moved against me. I placed my arms around her waist, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She ran a hot hand along the center of my back. I looked up into her face and noticed the small scar on her left cheek. When I reached to touch it, she pulled her head back, and her face closed like a trap. She quickly opened it again and flashed a smile. As if to offer forgiveness, she brushed her lips playfully against my cheek and kissed me softly on the mouth. I was floating in her arms, until I looked up and noticed the eyes of the women around the dance floor staring down at me.

“I’ve got to go,” I shouted above the music.

“Where?” she asked, looking surprised.

I pulled away from her without answering. I stepped out of the pit, and moved as swiftly as I could through the women, toward the exit, feeling Lorraine at my heels. I pushed through the doors, into the cool night air, and turned around to face her.

“Where do you have to go?” she asked.

“Home, it’s late.”

“Is someone waiting for you there?” she asked, moving closer to me.

“Yes,” I said, wanting to stop her.

“Are you serious?”

“No!” I admitted. “But I’ve got to go. I didn’t mean to come here. I wasn’t supposed to. It was… I made a mistake.” I said in a panic.

She took hold of my arms. “Hey, calm down. It’s okay. Is this your first time in any women’s bar?”

“Yes, and I…”

“And you’re a little overwhelmed,” she said with a laugh.

“It’s not funny. None of this is! You seem nice but I want to get home before something else happens.” I was afraid of my sudden attraction to her. Years ago I had suppressed that part of myself. I had pushed it down and buried it. I thought it had withered away and died inside of me. Instead it seemed to have taken root and thrived in the darkness I’d buried it in.

“If I give you my number will you call?” she asked.

I took the number, telling her I would, even though I wasn’t sure.

She took my face in her hands and kissed me. The feel of her tongue in my mouth made everything around me stop. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears as my heart pounded.

“I’d better go,” I said, not wanting to move.

She brushed her lips across my cheek again before letting me go.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I told her.

“I won’t hold my breath,” she said, before going back inside the club.

I rushed to my car, jumped in and sped off the lot. My face burned as I drove. It was hard to breathe. I opened the window and took deep breaths.

It was a week before I called her—a week of being consumed by thoughts of her lips and hands on me. She had lit a fire beneath my skin and awakened me. I knew if I saw her again I would lose myself. I prayed she wouldn’t answer. Then prayed she would. When she spoke, I got light-headed and had to sit down.

“How are you, Dory?”

“Fine, I’m fine.”

“I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Did you have to wrestle with yourself over it?”

“Not really.”

“When can I see you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, can I come to you?”

“No,” I answered quickly. “I’ll come to you.”

“Tonight?”

“No, tomorrow’s Saturday. It will be better.”

I took down her address. We hung up. I thought of her the rest of the night, wondering if I’d have the courage to visit her.

She lives in a shabby two-story building. I entered cautiously. She was on the top floor. I climbed the stairs, taking notice of the cracks in the walls. Pieces of conversation and the noise of a blaring television spilled out into the hall. I took a deep breath and knocked on her door. She opened it and stepped aside. It was a small apartment, sparsely furnished with secondhand items. On the walls were vibrant African prints. She offered me a beer and we sat on the couch and talked. I kept my eyes straight ahead, unable to look at her at first.

“I didn’t know clubs like that existed,” I said.

“It’s the only club like that in the city. It’s been there for over twenty years. I’m glad you stumbled in,” she said, taking hold of my chin and turning my face to her. “You have trouble looking at me, don’t you?”

“I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be,” she said, leaning in to kiss me.

I eagerly kissed her back, taking her soft, lower lip into my mouth.

“I was hoping I’d have the chance to kiss you again,” she said, sweeping me into her arms.

I held on to her and looked over at the open door of the bedroom a few feet away. All I could make out was a corner of the bed. I didn’t want to end up there. I couldn’t. I told myself I would leave before it happened. But her long fingers went to work unbuttoning my blouse and then caressing my breasts. All I could do was sit there as she slipped them out of my bra and began to suck them. I couldn’t leave and didn’t want to. After a while I reached for her shirt, and undid the buttons. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I gazed at the deep purple of her nipples, in such stark contrast to the rest of her body.

“My god,” I said, running my knuckles across them. “Have they always been this color?”

“Yes, it’s their natural color,” she said sounding amused.

I leaned over and kissed them. Soon I was kissing every inch of her. She lay back on the sofa, letting me. I’m lost, I kept thinking. I’m lost. Then she got up from the couch.

“Let’s go in here,” she said.

I looked again into the bedroom, not sure what to do next. She took my hand and led me in. She turned on the light, undressed and climbed on the bed. “Are you coming?” she asked.

I stood there trying to convince myself to leave. But the beauty of her body, naked and stretched to its full length across the bed, pulled me in. I undressed and climbed in beside her. I ran my hands over her body and retraced the trail with my mouth. I was inexperienced, but it didn’t matter. I wanted her. I saved the coarse patch of hair between her legs for last. I parted it with my tongue, and sought out the tender arrowhead of flesh. I sucked it hungrily, half expecting something or someone to come crashing in on us and stop me. But there were only her throaty whispers encouraging me with “Yes, oh yes,” and “Please…” as she spread her legs farther apart for me. Like a glutton I stayed there, lapping away at her until I’d exhausted myself and my chin was wet.

Full of energy, Lorraine wrapped her legs around my waist, and with one quick turn, flipped me over on my back, straddling me. “You waited long enough to call. I was waiting to hear from you.”

“I’m sorry,” I told her.

“No, you’re not,” she said, sliding off of me, then parting my legs with her knee and pushing her fingers inside of me. “I’d like to make you sorry for keeping me waiting. Giving me that half-assed dance, then running away like a child. I should have dragged you by the hair into one of those filthy stalls and made you take me like this,” she said, thrusting her fingers deeper, “Miss Standoffish.”

I closed my eyes as her long fingers moved inside of me. I struggled to contain my body’s response as my back and ass rose from the bed.

“Settle down and say you’re sorry,” she said, moving her fingers deeper and faster.

“I’m sorry!”

“What?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I shouted.

“Good, because I wanted you here with me like this,” she said, slowing the movement of her fingers.

She set something loose inside of me. When I climaxed, my entire body shook. I reached up and pulled her down on top of me, and I cried the way a child cries when its sense of security has been shattered.

She gathered me up in her arms. “You’re okay. You’re fine, remember? Relax and let me do something sweet for you. She sucked at my breasts, then made a hot trail with her tongue between my legs and covered my pussy with her mouth.

I left her apartment that evening promising myself I’d never return, for fear of being lost or damned. I would not give in to my desire again, I told myself. I couldn’t risk it. For three days I stayed away, craving her, needing her flesh in my mouth—needing to see the crazy plum color of her nipples. I returned to her convinced I was under a spell. But also convinced I could shake it if I tried.

“Where’ve you been Dory?”

I couldn’t answer her. All I could do was undress and pull her into bed with me. She set it loose and it’s growing in me. No longer can I push it down and keep it buried. Each time I see her I swear it will be the last. Each time I’ve been wrong.

I am here now beside her on the soft couch in her apartment. She strokes my thigh and kisses my neck. I look over at the open bedroom door, wondering if I can keep from ending up in her bed again. But the more she touches me, the more I’m convinced a part of me is already there, spreading itself open, pulling the rest of me toward it.