FREE READ: First Night on a Waterbed (Lesbian Erotica)

Remember last week, how I promised to post more free reads?  Well, here's one you might like:

First Night on a Waterbed

Lesbian Erotica by Giselle Renarde

She’d never slept in Wanda’s bed before.  It felt weird.  Not just being there in Wanda’s house while the kids spent a week with their grandparents, but the bed itself… 

          Janelle had never been on a waterbed before.  There was something unsettling about it.  She’d never known anyone who owned one, and it seemed like an oddly decadent flashback to the ‘80s.  Was it possible she’d get seasick during the night?

“What do you think?”  Wanda stood naked in the doorway.

Janelle grinned.  “You look good enough to eat, babe.”

With a deep chuckle, Wanda approached the behemoth bed.  “Not about me, silly.  About the waterbed!”

“Oh.”  Janelle plastered on a fake smile.  There were mirrors everywhere in Wanda’s bedroom.  You couldn’t look one way or another without seeing yourself.  “It’s different.”

Wanda leapt onboard and the water sloshed inside the mattress.  A tidal wave sent Janelle tumbling toward the far edge. She let out a little shriek as she fell, but Wanda grabbed her hips and pulled her toward the centre.  Wanda was so damn strong—that’s one thing that had attracted Janelle when they first met.  Felt like a hundred years ago, but in reality they’d only known one another a couple months.

“What are you doing still in your clothes, little girl?”  Wanda crawled the length of Janelle’s body, like a big cat on the prowl.  “I thought I told you to get these things off.”

“I know.”  Janelle returned Wanda’s fiendish smile.  “I was waiting for you.”

Wanda kissed her neck.  That quick peck was hard and sizzling and dry.   Sharp.  Another kiss, this one a little wetter, landed on Janelle’s chest.  The curve of her breasts peeked out beyond her modest V-neck top. Wanda attacked whatever was visible.  Wanda’s long, hot tongue ran the length of Janelle’s cleavage, up and down that little line of flesh.  God, it felt good when she used her tongue that way.  Janelle kept praying Wanda would dig in deeper, find a nipple in there, suck it hard.

“You gonna do a strip show for me, little girl?” Wanda raised her head from Janelle’s breasts and winked.

“No!”  The idea made her giggle.  She also loved the way Wanda called her little girl.  It had been years since Janelle had felt in any sense little… or girlish.  “I want you to undress me.”

“Oh, I see.”  Wanda wasted no time—she was stripping off Janelle’s top even as she spoke. “Yeah, I think I can manage that.” 

Janelle’s hair stuck up with static electricity as her top fell to the floor.  The air in here was dry and cool enough to coax her nipples to tiny pebbled points.  Her chest was heaving already, her breasts rising and falling inside her simple white bra.  They’d just begun and she was almost out of breath already.

Wanda knelt between Janelle’s spread legs.  Her big breasts swayed as she unbuttoned and unzipped the fly on Janelle’s jeans.  Her motions were violent as she pulled tight denim past Janelle’s full hips, yanking so hard the water underneath them sloshed inside its rubberized casing.  There were tides in this bed, and they were wild.

Lolling with the waves, Janelle raised both her legs so Wanda could pull off her jeans and panties.  Wanda dove at Janelle.  Landing flush against her nearly naked skin, Wanda kissed her hard, forcing a tyrannical tongue into Janelle’s surprised mouth. 

Janelle never could keep up with Wanda’s passion, but Wanda had assured her there was no need.  Her job was to lie back and take what Wanda wanted to give, and Wanda’s job was to give it, hard and fast and strong, every time.  Wanda was not a sweet and sensitive lover, but sweetness and sensitivity were overrated.  Janelle couldn’t get off on sweet and sensitive.  Forceful and frenzied did the trick.

A whirlwind of sexual energy spun her out of control as Wanda wove one hand through Janelle’s hair, clenching it in an unforgiving fist.  The other hand worked its way down to Janelle’s bra.  Her nipples ached with the strain of arousal and cold.  It would be nice to feel Wanda’s hot mouth latched to her breasts.  Just thinking about it made Janelle buck against Wanda’s naked thigh.

“Suck my tits,” Janelle pleaded, breaking away from their hot kiss.  “Please, God, please!”

Wanda laughed.  “I doubt if God’s gonna be sucking your tits.  Maybe I will…” 

Such a tease.

“Do it, Wanda, suck my tits.  And go really hard, babe.  I want it to hurt.”  Janelle grabbed the cups of her bra and pulled them both down.  When her naked tits met her woman’s naked tits, everything inside of her jumped.  It was pure pleasure.

“Well…”  Wanda’s breath rushed against Janelle’s forehead, hot as lava.  “If you insist…” 

Wanda began her quick descent, crawling down Janelle’s body, planting fierce kisses.  She stopped when her mouth hovered over Janelle’s naked tits.  Hot breath mingled with the sharp coldness of her nipples and made them burn. 

The pleasure was excruciating, and Janelle just wanted more, more, more. 

“Suck them.”  She felt empowered like this, holding her bra down and sticking out her tits.  “Suck!”

Wanda let out a growl before her tongue struck Janelle’s right tit.  Despite the softness, its sheer heat made Janelle pull away.  The swiftness of her motion caused another tidal wave inside the waterbed and Janelle wished she had something to hold on to.  So she held on to Wanda’s head, inadvertently pressing it down on her tit, forcing her breast farther into that hot, wet mouth.  Wanda went with it, sucking more than just her nipple now, sucking her whole tit. 

Janelle had never felt anything like this.  She couldn’t keep from writhing against Wanda’s belly, trying to angle her hips in such a way that her clit would strike her woman’s stomach.  The harder Wanda sucked her tits, back and forth between the two, the wetter Janelle’s pussy got.  Juice ran down her crack.  When it slowed around the puckered ring of her asshole, she wished Wanda would shove something in there.  A finger, a dildo—didn’t matter what.  

Watching this fierce woman savouring her breasts, Janelle felt like a rabbit being taken by a fox.  Wanda brought that kind of energy to sex, and Janelle needed it.  She was too lethargic otherwise.  That’s what she loved about her relationship with Wanda: they balanced each other out. 

That’s what Janelle was thinking when she blurted the words, “I love you, babe!”

Wanda stopped sucking, and let Janelle’s breast fall from her mouth.  Her eyes were wide, so wide they looked more white than brown.  The only sound in the room was the vulgar sloshing of waterbed.

They’d never ventured into “I love you” territory before. 

In truth, Janelle didn’t mean to say the words.  She wasn’t sure why she had, except that they were true.  They were true, weren’t they?  This had gone beyond flirtation, beyond fling, beyond sexual relief.  They talked every day now.  Wanda’s kids had met Janelle, though she’d been introduced as merely a friend.  There was a future, here.  In fact, the more Janelle processed it in the slow moments they spent staring at each other, the truer it became.

Janelle said it again.  “I love you, Wanda.  I’m in love with you.”

Even the rude squelching noises from waterbed couldn’t break the tension.  Janelle wanted to hear those words back, now, but hot trepidation shot through her core.  Maybe Wanda didn’t love her.  Maybe this relationship meant something altogether different to Wanda than it did to Janelle.

And then a growl rose up through Wanda’s body, deep, like it originated in her gut and rumbled all the way to her throat.  She sounded like a grizzly bear.  Her tongue landed in slashes along Janelle’s belly.  Everything felt so hot, so wet.  Even when the crisp air met with cooling saliva, everything sizzled.

Wanda dove between Janelle’s spread thighs and attacked her engorged clit.  Her whole pussy felt fat and wonderfully wet even before Wanda met it, but the second that hot tongue touched her spread pussy lips Janelle lurched forward.  “Holy Mother!”

“Little girl,” Wanda teased, her voice dark as velvet.  “I am most certainly not your mother.”

Janelle laughed until Wanda’s sizzling mouth met her pussy lips again. The pleasure was too sharp and too vast to be laughed at.  Perching on her elbows, Janelle craned forward.  She needed to get a look at what her woman was doing down there.  Wanda’s mouth had a tongue that licked and teeth that bit, lips that drew into a tight little rosebud to suck her clit.  Wanda’s mouth was magic.

The water beneath their bodies waved in even laps, rocking them gently.  This bed was growing on Janelle, despite its jostling motion and rude noises.  It added dimension to their lovemaking.  Not that Wanda required any improvement.  Her tongue worked fast against Janelle’s clit, flicking up and down as Wanda slithered to her belly like a snake.

“God, you are amazing!”  Janelle pressed her hard nipples between her fingers and thumbs, rolling them, squeezing.

Wanda barely stopped licking to mumble, “It ain’t God that’s licking your pussy, little girl.”

That bizarre combination of words made Janelle tingle.  But, hell, just about everything Wanda did made her tingle.  Just catching sight of her woman in the buff, those big boobs taunting her, wide hips beckoning, made her clit twitch.  Watching Wanda go down on her made her entire body tremble.

And that’s when Janelle realized Wanda had her own way of saying, “I love you,” and this was it. Janelle never had much trouble expressing emotion, but a lot of people couldn’t.  So maybe she should cut Wanda a little slack.  The proof was in the pudding, and Wanda proved her love every time she put her face between Janelle’s thighs.

Wanda’s muffled moans were words of love, and Janelle felt weak with pleasure.  She dug her heels into the mattress, but couldn’t get any traction.  Her feet skidded across the sheets.  Wanda caught her ass with both hands and lifted it, blowing cool air against her burning clit.  “You like that, hmm?”

Janelle moaned with her lips closed, trying to stay quiet even though they were alone in the house.  She couldn’t stand the torture of Wanda’s soft breath.  She begged Wanda to take her clit between those full pink lips and suck it hard, but Wanda just smiled coyly and kept on blowing.

Finally, Janelle couldn’t stand the suspense.  She rubbed her splayed pussy lips against Wanda’s mouth. 

“Suck it!” Janelle cried.  Her voice cracked as she bucked at Wanda’s face. “Suck my clit, babe.  I love you!”

With an animal moan, Wanda tore into Janelle, nibbling her clit and shoving a couple fingers into her hot cunt.  God, Janelle was wet.  She was sopping wet, with juice running down her crack and soaking the bed sheets.  When Janelle bucked to meet those firm fingers, the pad of Wanda’s thumb met her asshole.  She always wanted that, but could never ask for it.  When she shrieked, Wanda took the hint. 

Sucking like crazy on Janelle’s fat clit, Wanda traced tight circles around that puckered hole.  Janelle moaned, “Yes, babe, yes,” until Wanda forged a path through that tight ring of muscle.  A thumb was probably all Janelle could take in her ass, and with Wanda’s fingers already lodged in her cunt, she felt full.  It was a welcome sensation.

“Come for me, little girl.”  Wanda nibbled Janelle’s clit, then sucked it, making her scream with surprise.

The motion encouraged waves beneath their bodies, and those waves echoed the typhoon of desire coursing through Janelle’s core.  There was a tight buzz in her belly, and she wanted to buck and push, both at once.  Wanda was working her so hard her body didn’t seem to know what it wanted first, but she found herself rolling to one side, writhing, whimpering as the pleasure mounted beyond her capacity to enjoy it.

Janelle tried to close her legs, but Wanda held them open.

“No!” Janelle cried.

“Yes.” Wanda quit sucking, but kept reaming her pussy and ass with those perfect fingers.

Wanda was right. 

“Yes!” Janelle shouted, fighting the slow tides beneath the mattress and fucking Wanda’s hand with her pussy and her ass.  It was only her clit that was worn out.  Somehow Wanda knew that.  Wanda was amazing that way.

Janelle came again, right away, not from clit stimulation this time but from the sheer pleasure of being filled, of being fucked.  This time her orgasm was a growl, not a whimper, and then a groan, and then a sequence of shouts and curses as she flipped herself around on the bed.  Water sploshed and recoiled under her breasts and her belly.

“Oh my God,” Janelle sighed, again and again.  She could hardly breathe, but she found Wanda’s beautiful body and cuddled against it. Now more than ever, she knew what love was.  Wanda didn’t have to say the words.  This pleasure in bed was more than enough.

Janelle nearly fell asleep listening to the water lap beneath the pillow.  She was just on the verge of dreaming when she heard Wanda’s voice.

“You know what, little girl? I think I love you too.”

If you'd like a little more lesbian erotica, try What Do Lesbians Do in Bed?
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00N01STPO
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00N01STPO
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/469828

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/what-do-lesbians-do-in-bed-21-sapphic-stories
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id912402943
BN: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/what-do-lesbians-do-in-bed-21-sapphic-stories-giselle-renarde/1120198147?ean=2940046257960&itm=1&usri=2940046257960

Out With The In: Loving A Girl In The Closet

Last week, I posted this little memoir at Torquere Press' Romance for the Rest of Us blog.  Today, I'm sharing it with my readers here at Donuts and Desires.

A while back, I read a post at Davy Wavey's blog (do we all know Davy Wavey?) addressing "viewer mail."  The letter had something do to with dating a guy who wasn't out.  To be honest, it's the comments I remember better than the post itself.  A lot of guys chimed in to say they would never, ever, ever date a man who was still in the closet, or that they'd done it in the past and would never, ever, ever do it again.

These things get me thinking, you know?

I always find it kind of messy when people talk about being in OR being out, because there are so many levels of in and out.  More than that, to me, being out is a constant process that plays out every day as we make our ways through the world.

But those comments from guys who would NEVER date someone who wasn't out hit me especially hard because I'm in a long-term relationship with a woman who isn't out.  Sort of.  Because, with some people, she is out.  It's complicated.

If you hang out at my blog, you probably know that my Sweet identifies as transgender and lesbian.  She lived a lot of her life as a boy, and now she identifies as a woman.  But that doesn't mean she's out with the whole world.  Sweet has never come out to her family.  Whenever she sees them, she wears boy clothes and pretends to be something she's not.  There's a common misconception that once trans people realize who they are, they make a change and that's that, full speed ahead.  Not the case for many, especially trans men and women of the older generations.

My girlfriend is in and out of different closets in different ways with different people.  Her family thinks of her as a straight man.  She has friends from a transgender social group who know the real her, though.  Those are the only people who know me as her girlfriend.

She isn't out as trans with most of her friends and acquaintances.  She also lets all those people think she's straight.

It doesn't bother me in the least that Sweet wants to stay stealth about her gender identity.  It's nobody's business but her own, and there's still a great deal of misunderstand and aggression toward the trans population.  The thing that kind of sucks for me is that my girl is convinced that if anyone found out she loved another woman, they'd immediately rip off her wig and say, "Ah-ha!  You're really a man!"

Maybe that's another "generational" mindset.  Sweet's a few years older than I am, and you didn't see lesbians walking down the street holding hands when she was growing up.  I would never out my girl or break up with her because she wasn't out enough, or set some kind of ultimatum to force her hand.  People have to come out in their own time.

That said, there have been times when Sweet's closetedness has led to big-time arguments between us.  The major event that comes to mind happened a few years ago when I took the train to meet her in Niagara Falls, where she was doing some volunteer work.  We'd planned to drive back to Toronto together and, because she'd been working so much and our relationship is a long-distance one to begin with, that was about all the time we had together.  It was supposed to be a pleasant mini-road-trip, maybe with a detour or two for dinner and entertainment.  At least, that's what I had in mind.

When I got to Niagara, she told me that another volunteer needed a ride back to the city, so we were driving her too.  I was floored.  It was supposed to be OUR TIME, and she'd invited some random person along?  Well, I guess Sweet didn't realize this little road trip thingy was a date, a romancy-pants thing, because when I explained why I was so shocked and angry, she tried to find this random woman another ride home.  There was another volunteer who said, "Oh, sorry, I can't drive her.  My boyfriend and I are driving back together and we'll probably want to grab dinner."

I can't begin to tell you how badly I wanted my woman to say the same thing.  "Sorry, but I can't drive you after all.  My girlfriend and I made plans."  GIRLFRIEND.  Not FRIEND.  Usually I can stand the charade, but that day in particular I was so angry and disappointed that hearing myself described as "friend" seemed to put me and our relationship under erasure.  I wanted acknowledgement.  I wanted time alone with my woman.  The whole stupid misunderstanding could have been cleared up if she'd just admitted we were a couple.

So, okay, I do understand why some people wouldn't want to enter into a relationship with someone who is still in the closet.  It's not easy.  It causes arguments.  But you know what?  A lot of things cause arguments in a relationship.  A strong enough bond can overcome any controversy.

Come to think of it, I believe I left a comment on that Davy Wavey post.  I remember telling his readers a little bit about my relationship with Sweet, and going on to say that even though she's not out with her own family, she IS out with mine.  My mother loves her.  My sisters adore her.  They love spending time with the lesbian couple that is Sweet and I, and my girl gets to spend family time as the woman she is instead of pretending to be somebody she's not.

And maybe that's one of the best things about dating someone who is still in some sort of closet: you can give her opportunities to be out in the safe space your life has already created.  And that's pretty wonderful.

Hugs,
Giselle
--

Giselle Renarde is a prolific author of LGBTQ fiction, including Torquere's new Charity Sip Blitz title To Dream of her True Love's Face.

To dream of her true love's face, Emma obeys the well-known folklore and places a bundle of rosemary beneath her pillow. Her family is quite dismayed when she dreams of a beautiful Native woman rather than the young man they intend for her to marry. Their laughter and derision drives Emma to the woods, where she takes a step in the wrong direction and becomes stuck in a marsh. When she calls for help, what should she hear but the steady beat of hooves and the heavy rustle of leather.

Now Available from: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=79_111&products_id=3674

Where Am I?

I'm not here.

Really. I'm not.

Today, I'm guest blogging at two (count 'em, TWO) other blogs. That's why I'm not here.  I can be in two places at once, but not three.  I'm only human, after all. *smile*

Okay, if you're interested in finding me today, I've revived my post "What Is Smut? (Baby Don't Hurt Me)" originally seen at Sommer Marsden's blog at Flirty Author Bitches.  I blog there the fourth Tuesday of every month.  Here's the link: http://flirtyauthorbitches.com/2012/04/what-is-smut-baby-dont-hurt-me/

I'm also at Romance for the Rest of Us, which is Torquere Press' blog, with a brand new post called "How Do You Measure It?"  I could keep you in suspense, but... nah, I'll keep you in suspense.  If you want to know what's being measured, read my post: http://glbtromance.blogspot.ca/2012/04/how-do-you-measure-it.html

Right.  I was never here. *wink*

Hugs,

Giselle

To Answer A Question Nobody Asked...

Pretty much every year since I started writing professionally, I've been donating 4th quarter royalties to a queer helpline called LGBT Youthline. I love what this organization does--queer youth helping queer youth--and it's been a joy to attempt to raise money for them.

But the key word there is "attempt." In 2010 I let readers vote on which of my titles I should donate money from and I had great feedback. Unfortunately, sales didn't pan out. To be blatant about it, after all the promotion I did (with the help of wonderful people like Kiki Howell and Sally at Bibrary) I managed to raise under $5.

Yeah.

So this year I decided to go a different route. One of my publishers, Torquere Press, organized a charity Sip line to raise funds for It Gets Better. I wrote a transgender lesbian erotic short called Eclipse the Stars, a story about Jody's jealousy of her girlfriend Renata's beauty and confidence after surgery. It's a long-term couple story. It's a love story. With sex.

Here's the best part: Eclipse the Stars is available from Torquere Press and Rainbow ebooks, and neither the publisher nor the e-store (nor anybody--cover artist, author (me), editor, proofreader) is taking any percentage of the purchase price. It all goes to charity.

One of the hurdles I encountered in fundraising was trying to go it alone. In 2010, the wonderful Jay Hartman at Untreed Reads went above and beyond to help me and Youthline by contacting Rainbow Ebooks. For one weekend, the entire purchase price of my lesbian eating disorder short UGLY NAKED PEOPLE was donated to Youthline and we raised just under $50 if memory serves. That's amazing for one little short at one ebook retailer in one weekend! It worked because author, publisher, and e-seller were all on board and all willing to work together to support a queer organization.

That's what needs to happen to fundraise effectively.

So Eclipse the Stars is available from September 2011-September 2012, with all proceeds going to It Gets Better. Everybody's working together, and already (actually, in the first 2 months it was available) this trans lesbian story raised like 600% more than I raised on my own the last year I tried any solitary fundraising.

It takes a village to raise money.

Hugs,

Giselle

p.s. Thank you to everyone who has supported any of the above-mentioned fundraising efforts. Huge Hugs!

--
Giselle Renarde

Canada just got hotter!

Visit me online
http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com
http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/erotica

http://twitter.com/GiselleRenarde

Sapphic Signs: I Get It by Jodi Payne

Can you believe we've arrived at Sagittarius already? Hope you've been enjoying these Sapphic Signs posts, everyone. Get out there and read some lesbian fiction!

I Get It

by Jodi Payne

No one ever expects to end up in the hospital, least of all adventurous Casey, who’s suffering from a head injury. Her case intrigues Dr. Catharine Hill, a commitment-phobe who’s avoiding troubles in her personal life. As Casey’s story unfolds with the help of her girlfriend Jane, Catharine begins to see the light about her relationship with her own lover, Fran. Can Catharine get it before it’s too late?

Sample

My mother hated motorcycles. If she were still with us today, she would tell you that I was the kind of kid that did exactly the opposite of what I was told. In everything but this one thing, she'd be right.

I don't remember exactly how old I was when I had my first motorcycle ride, maybe six or seven. I remember the first curves we took, my uncle Bill and me. I was small enough that I had to hook my fingers through his belt loops to hold on because my arms were too short to reach around his waist. I was wearing a white helmet that was so big on me it would slide down onto my nose when we hit a big enough bump.

The way we leaned to one side and then the other, hugging the corners, felt so natural to me; a balancing act of speed and weight. I remember taking a deep breath at one point and letting it out slowly and after that there was nothing but me, my Uncle Bill, the hum and grind of the bike's motor, and the sunshine. I couldn't stop smiling the entire trip. I didn't have the words to explain how it felt to me then, the way my six year old heart felt as we flew down those country roads, but now I can tell you that it felt like freedom. It felt like flying. Riding that motorcycle, I felt as if we were defying gravity.

That was many years and many helmet styles ago. The one I am wearing today has a shell made of Kevlar and fiberglass, which is really the important point right now, as I watch the convertible coming toward me take the inside curve too fast and cross over into my lane. Even over the roar of my chopper, the first and only bike I've ever customized on my own, I can hear the car's tires skidding across the rumble strip that's been carved beneath the double yellow lines. I swerve in the outside lane, and although it feels like slow motion, it's all happening very fast and suddenly it’s just me, the car and the guardrail. I make a desperate effort to squeeze between a rock and a hard place but it's no good – the front wheel of my bike gets pinned and I'm thrown from the seat.

I'm flying through the air. I know I just flew over the handlebars, but I have no idea where I am going anymore.

Buy Now from Torquere Press

Sapphic Signs: Like Water and Water

I'm going to make this week's Sapphic Signs intro quick because I'm in the middle of writing a supercalafragalistically hot sex scene and you're probably in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner, if you're American. But when you're full of food and hungry for some lesbian romance, give this excerpt a read:

Like Water and Water

by Sarah Ettritch
University roommates Rachel and Barb met in their high school’s zodiac club, where they spent hours doing their Scorpio charts and became best friends. Now Rachel has fallen in love with Barb, but Barb is dating the sultry Carla. When Barb and Carla experience problems, Rachel is uncomfortable with being Barb’s confidante, especially since Barb’s relationship issues involve sex. Finding it more and more difficult to hide her feelings and remain impartial, Rachel reaches her breaking point and makes an agonizing decision.

Sample

The laptop and textbook were in her bedroom. Rachel walked down the apartment’s narrow hallway, then stopped when the bathroom door swung open. Barb stepped out, wearing only her panties and a sports bra. Rachel’s breath caught in her throat.

“Forgot a towel.” Barb opened the door to the nearby linen closet and rummaged inside.

Rachel’s gaze lingered on Barb’s firm ass. Heat flooded her chest and travelled down to her crotch. It would be so easy to close the short distance between them, slip her arms around Barb, cup Barb’s breasts, slide her fingers underneath... oh, god. She turned away and mumbled, “Forgot something.”

She fled down the hallway and stood trembling in the kitchen. Thank god Barb had been focused on looking for a towel. If she’d seen Rachel’s face, sensed the raw desire oozing from her every pore . . . Rachel swallowed. She’d seen Barb half-naked before, but her interest in Barb’s body had been nothing more than idle curiosity. She’d never ogled her, wanted her, fought the urge to jump her. Christ, she had to be more careful.

Like Water and Water is available from Torquere Press... right here!

Sapphic Signs: The Balancing Act by Ann Cory

Howdy lesfic fans!

It's Thursday, and you know what that means: another excerpt from Torquere Press' Sapphic Signs line. This weeks it's:

The Balancing Act

by Ann Cory

Michelle and Gracie became fast friends on the gymnastics team, and were inseparable. That friendship intensified into romance, and they never looked back. More than Gracie’s confidence took a tumble during an important competition, resulting in an injury that has kept her in and out of surgeries, and their once red-hot relationship has never been the same.

But Michelle’s love for Gracie keeps her determined to find balance and revive the passion they had for one another both on and off the beam. She must come clean about where she’s been going during her spare time, while Gracie decides to have one final surgery.

Sample

She caught a glimpse of Michelle walking toward the coach in her navy blue leotard. The tight garment showed off her sinuous muscles to perfection.

Gracie never thought she’d be sitting in this place again. She expected anger and regret to keep her away for good, but she felt neither of those things.

Along the sidelines, Michelle practiced her routine on the floor. Her body moved with the same dancer’s grace she’d always had. Gracie loved how she bent forward, her back arched, with arms above her head. Her legs of pure muscle, the back one extended into a perfect arabesque. She leapt and then spun on her toes with her arms straight and body in flawless alignment.

For a moment she put herself in Michelle’s place. Gracie remembered how she used to glide and turn, flip and leap. Her teammates liked to challenge her to see who could hold a pose the longest without falling.

Much as she enjoyed the floor exercise, she preferred the rush of being up high, to be the envy of gymnastic hopefuls with the way she could hold her body with such intensity. She’d mastered all the dance moves on a small wooden beam instead of a spring boarded floor. Had she known the result of competition night, she might’ve treated her body better, been easier on her muscles, taken better care of her joints, but in the end perhaps she hadn’t been meant to perform in front of a large crowd. Gracie chuckled to herself. She knew this was all her way of analyzing, trying to justify and make the situation right considering there weren’t many options.

A woman in a business suit stepped up the microphone and announced the start of the competition.

The crowd got to their feet behind her and she cupped her mouth, screaming and shouting along with them. She watched her team on the uneven bars and the floor events. When it came time for the balance beam, she saw Michelle seek her out. Gracie nodded and smiled, giving her the thumbs up sign. And then the knots in her stomach doubled.

Find it at Torquere Press: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=78_115&products_id=3360

Sapphic Signs: Kenna's Virgo by Jolene Hui

I've barely been at my computer this week, so Donuts & Desires has been sorely neglected. Poor Donuts! Poor Desires! But we're back with this week's Sapphic Signs post:

Kenna's Virgo

by Jolene Hui

Shortly after Maggie graduates from college, she meets Kenna, a beautiful redhead. Mere moments after their meeting, Maggie reads her Virgo horoscope that encourages her to try new experiences and to “open your heart.” She reflects back on her life and decides she’ll take the horoscope to heart and attempt to come out of her shell. After outing herself to her mother, Maggie moves in with Kenna as her roommate. Even though Kenna is in a relationship and Maggie starts to date another woman, Maggie still has feelings for Kenna that just won’t go away.

Sample

I set down my spoon and stared straight ahead to keep the wave of nausea from sweeping down into my stomach. Emma didn’t wait. She grabbed my elbow and led me to the bathroom where I lost everything I’d eaten. The wine burned in my throat. I relaxed on the rug and stared at the ceiling. When I finished emptying the contents of my stomach I sheepishly walked out into the dining room area.

They had set up a pillow and blankets on the couch in the living room. Kenna led me there. Emma was still cleaning up.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, “I don’t ever drink much, and I think the ice cream didn’t mix well in my gut.”

"Just relax on the couch and don’t worry about it,” she said.

I snuggled into the couch nest they’d made for me and closed my eyes. I could easily fall asleep there, but I kept myself awake. Emma and Kenna joined me, and we talked about everything that came to mind. I talked about how I missed going to the waterpark in the summer. Emma confessed she felt attracted to David Beckham. Kenna said she missed all her pets that had passed away throughout her lifetime. My stomach began to settle as we chatted like old friends.

Kenna’s teeth were perfectly straight. Her body was slim – her clothes hitting her in just the right spots, just like the servers I always adored. Under her apron was a flowing pink blouse and Capri jeans. She must have forgotten to take her apron off after she finished cooking. She wore a bronze bangle on her wrist with a necklace that matched. I kept my eyes on Kenna while our conversation went from here to there. Somehow in the depths of the evening our conversation had turned to sexual experiences.

“My first time was with an older woman,” Kenna told us. She put her mouth around her ginger ale straw and sucked firmly but seductively. I sipped silently while she relayed the story.

“She was about thirty five. I was sixteen. I was a nanny that summer. She was the mother of one of the kids’ friends. She stayed to help me watch the kids during a sleepover. After the kids went to sleep we had our own sleepover. A movie was on but I wasn’t watching it. I could feel her breathing on my neck. She smelled like fresh lilacs, and her skin looked so soft.”

“This sounds like a made for TV movie,” I interjected.

Emma laughed with me. Kenna rolled her eyes and continued her story. “It’s all true! She was married to a wealthy man who traveled a lot. She wanted some hot, young, action!”

“That’s a movie I’d tune into!” It didn’t take me long to feel comfortable around the two women.

“How about you, baby girl?” Emma moved the spotlight to me.

I blushed and sipped my ginger ale.

“You’re still a virgin!” shouted Emma. Kenna smiled and sucked on her straw.

Kenna's Virgo is Available from Torquere Press!

Sapphic Signs: Skylar's Pride

Sorry I missed putting up a Sapphic Signs post last week. I lost track of the days (a writer's prerogative), and then suddenly it was Friday and I realized I'd forgotten it was release day for A Tale of Fur and Flesh so my focus got shifted. Yeah, one of those weeks. Anyway, Sapphic Signs are back with:

Skylar's Pride by Lara Zielinsky

Skylar's got a problem. Make that several. She's kept her shapeshifter nature a secret from her current lover, Lila. Now that it's midsummer, Skylar faces enforced return to her father's pride lands. But Max, Lila's son, has gone missing from the campsite where his father was murdered -- savaged by an animal. Will Skylar find Max and solve the mystery of the Cherry Creek Park wolves before her father forces her return or her secret is revealed?

Sample

The sound of snapping branches broke the silence of the woods to her right. Immediately her shoulders tensed, and she searched through the darkness for the source.

Seeing nothing, she nevertheless kept sweeping the woods with her gaze as she continued to run. Today she planned to run for the full hour, turning back only when she reached the reservoir wall within Cherry Creek Park.

A breeze blew from behind her, and she spun, having caught the scent of more than leaf decay in its bouquet. "Mar, show yourself, you runty sonofabitch."

Now Available from Torquere Press!

Sapphic Signs: The Lady Wants More

Another Thursday, another Sapphic Signs book to tell you about! This week it's:

The Lady Wants More

by Adriana Kraft

Janet Baxter keeps her post-divorce life neatly compartmentalized: Secure job, spacious Westchester County home, successful adult children, dependable community volunteer activities. So, why is she drawn to attend her twenty-year college reunion in New York City?

Always a free spirit, Brenda Cassidy is comfortably bisexual and has no plans to settle down. But a fling? The reappearance of svelte, reserved Janet Baxter in Brenda’s life is nothing less than a gift, worthy of every enticement Brenda can conjure up. Can Brenda seduce Janet into an endless night of the lovemaking they enjoyed too briefly as college roommates? What if the lady wants more?

Sample

Brenda spun around to face Janet when they got to the far corner of the dance floor. She knew Janet would prefer to be in the corner rather than on the front edge where bar patrons could easily gawk at them. She, herself, preferred center stage but—she grinned at her partner—tonight she’d cater to Janet’s desires. She just wished she could get a better read on her former roommate’s desires. Did they include her, yet? There was no need to rush things now that they’d reconnected after all these years.

Brenda had already decided that Janet needed, once again, to break out of her shell and get on with her life. Of course she’d often been accused of making quick judgments, if not rash ones. But surely the universe hadn’t crossed their paths just so they could share a drink and swap life stories. While she wasn’t looking for a permanent relationship, whatever that was, she was always on the lookout for a relationship that might offer enough challenge and spice to keep her going for more than a night or two.

Brenda grinned at Janet. She knew for certain this tall dark haired women with gorgeous long legs could provide ample challenge and spice for some time. She held out her hands, interlaced her fingers with Janet’s and listened for the beat to the fast paced hip hop music. At arm’s length they swayed and stepped to the music. They circled each other.

Brenda filled her lungs. Her body throbbed with the music. Her brain clicked into hypersensitive mode—once again, she’d become the huntress. “Are you ready for me?”

Janet grinned and nodded. She dropped her hands, spun around and reached for Brenda again.

Smiling, Brenda blew her partner a kiss. She was pretty sure Janet hadn’t heard her words over the band. Yet clearly Janet also delighted in pulsing to the music. Brenda had never seen her more free than on the dance floor—well, and occasionally in her arms. Their lovemaking always began tentatively, with Janet fighting some sort of war in her mind, heart and body. Brenda grinned and squeezed Janet’s fingers. Once unleashed, Janet had never failed to embrace their lovemaking with a zest that astonished Brenda every time. She’d never been with a lover who surprised her as much as Janet.

The third song shifted from fast to slow. Brenda didn’t hesitate. She nestled her body naturally against Janet’s. Her thighs slipped around Janet’s right knee. Janet gasped, and then perhaps not wanting to make a scene, settled her arms around Brenda’s lower back. Avoiding eye contact, Brenda rested her head on Janet’s shoulder, where she appreciated the rise and fall of Janet’s pert breasts. As usual, Janet’s chin came to rest atop Brenda’s head. They swayed together as if they formed an island on the otherwise crowded dance floor.

Brenda wished she knew what Janet was thinking, if she allowed herself to think at all. Gradually, Brenda’s hands slid down over Janet’s tiny rump. She felt Janet’s thong through the skirt fabric. She was surprised to discover her former lover had chosen such a risqué undergarment. Brenda closed her eyes and nestled closer as Janet’s hands moved to rest on her rump. Although they never traveled lower, Brenda was thrilled to think Janet wasn’t totally uninterested. She wet her lips and peeked again at the rise of Janet’s breasts. She blew warm breath across Janet’s cleavage knowing full well her nipples would harden in response, if they hadn’t already.

You can get your copy of The Lady Wants More from Torquere Press

Sapphic Signs: Mirror Image by Cheri Crystal

Okay, I'll admit I've neglected the blog this week. I do apologize. I've been at Sweet's house and when she's off work we have a terrible tendency to spend entire days watching DVDs, eating, and having sex--often all at the same time. (True story!)

Anyhoo, Thursdays I like to showcase the Sapphic Signs lesbian erotic romance collection from Torquere Press, and today we feature...

Mirror Image

by Cheri Crystal

Jaylyn Dayley, professional stuntwoman, isn’t afraid of anything. Except commitment. She can tuck and roll, crash and burn, and walk away unscathed, but can she survive the searing heat of her attraction for the lovely Monika Morning during her stint as the actress’ stunt double?

Sample

Everything was set by the time we got back and Monika ran through her lines. I was ready, the set was ready, Josh said the word, and despite feeling like an idiot, the wool suit itched all over, even with the silk shirt tucked into the waistband. Further compounding my duress, my feet were crammed into the pointy-toe heels like a pencil as if my toes were being sharpened. It was mortifying enough being dressed this way, but being ripped a new asshole by the director, especially in front of Monika, was worse. I executed the scene and landed hard but unhurt.

“Cut!” Josh cast me a glaring look. “Everyone, go home, except for Dayley. And Monika, please come over here, too.” It irked me whenever he so much as looked at Monika, but his condescending tone along with leering at her like she was his next treat, had my defenses edgy. Only knowing how easily I could be replaced kept me in check.

“What’s the matter, Josh?” Monika asked sweetly while I tore at a hangnail until it bled.

“You’re perfect, my dear, but I’m at my wit’s end with you, Dayley. You need an attitude adjustment. Let Monika show you how to be a lady. And have the beautician pluck your eyebrows while you’re at it.”

Monika took my hand. Josh grimaced before he turned his back and strode away with clenched fists.

“Let’s find somewhere private. And warm.” She dropped my hand and walked away, expecting me to follow, but I was too busy studying her ass. Her walk was so damn sultry and sexy. I could imitate her in a heartbeat, but I really could not stand by and take Josh’s shit without a fight. Let him do fifty takes. I’d nail the walk when I was damn good and ready. Only my horoscope read: “Gemini, don’t worry about the pros and cons of your plans. You’re under the kind of cosmic protection that means you can get away with almost anything. Take note of that little word ‘almost’!” I took note of the little word ‘almost’ but I didn’t have to like it.

“Hey,” she turned. “You coming or what?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Don’t I wish, I thought, and let her lead the way.

“Good, because I’m freezing my arse off.”

I was tempted to show her how well I could warm a woman up, but said instead, “Speaking of arses. What bug you suppose crawled up his?”

“Oh, ignore the old chap.”

“How can I manage that?”

“I tune him out.”

“I can try, but I make no promises. Doesn’t it bother you when he salivates like you’re his next tasty treat?”

“Let him look, but God help him if he touches. I have my limits.”

I wondered what that was supposed to mean as far as I was concerned. I didn’t dare touch her unless invited, I fathomed, preferring to err on the side of caution rather than risk offending her, but if she touched me, well, all bets were off.

Besides, I was known for my irresistible Gemini powers of persuasion, charm and limitless enthusiasm.

“This could work,” she said, leading me to a cordoned off empty set, but stopped when the door was locked. “Wait here just a sec.” She came back with Jimbo, who unlocked the door before throwing me a look dripping with envy. Monika walked in first and when she wasn’t looking, his solidarity punch to my arm spoke volumes. At least I had friends in high places—Jimbo had Josh wrapped around his nicotine-stained finger.

Monika removed her coat, a long silky pea coat that had to be the reason she was chilled to the bone. “Jimbo, do you think you could order us some food?”

“Sure. What’ll it be, Miss?”

“Oh, surprise me, but please, anything but curry. We’ve had it six nights in a row.”

He smiled, the unlit cigar bobbing slightly. “How about sushi?”

“Oh brilliant, I’d like that. Do get us lots of warm sake, and I’ll smother you with kisses.”

He was gone in an instant. I didn’t blame him. Amazingly, Monika could kiss Jimbo from here to eternity, but if Josh even brushed against her my skin crawled. The worst was when he worked on blocking movements demonstrating with his big grubby paws all over her.

Monika spun around on her heel. “You do like sushi, don’t you?”

“I love it, but warm sake on an empty stomach could make me frisky.”

“I’m not worried. Now come on. What is this about your stubborn swagger?”

“What does Josh have against me anyhow?”

“He’s a perfectionist who doesn’t like to leave any scene unfinished. You seem to go off on too many tangents.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she was so smart and I just love an intelligent woman, so I clamped my mouth shut and listened.

“I adore your vitality and have no idea why Josh wants to squash it. He should bottle it up instead and use it to his advantage. Besides, I find your zest for life attractive—just like you.”

As if I wasn’t already burning to a crisp, my cheeks heated up from the compliment.

“I can’t get over how much we look alike, especially when you’re so fair.”

I squared my shoulders, as if deeply wounded.

She laughed. “Oh, all right, poor choice of words, how about light-skinned?”

“You can go for something tougher sounding than that, Monika,” I teased.

“I don’t know, your skin is just so pink compared to mine.” Her gaze shot me like a ray gun, burning my flesh wherever it struck. “And you get bright red when you blush. A lovely shade of red that spreads from your face to your neck, to your…” She looked down at my breasts and I thought I’d surely die.

You can get Mirror Image from Torquere Press!

Hugs,

Giselle

--
Giselle Renarde

Canada just got hotter!

Visit me online
http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com
http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/erotica
http://twitter.com/GiselleRenarde