A teaser from the soon-to-be-published Best Lesbian Erotica 2009:

Tawanna Sullivan

Hip-Hop Soul night was in full swing at The Blue Gator. From her place at the bar, Charlie could take in all of the action on the floor and survey the new women filing in. It didn't take long to find a target. They began an intricate eye tango: stare, lock eyes, smile, look away, repeat.
During the third round, Charlie noticed that her Coke had dwindled down to ice cubes. She turned to flag down the bartender. A few minutes later she felt a hand on her shoulder. The young Latina woman demanding her attention was in full Mack Daddy gear, from her snug fitting baseball cap to her fresh pressed jeans.
Though she was scowling, there was no real menace in her voice. “Stop staring at my girl. We came out to have a nice time, why you got to be disrespectful?”
Charlie took a sip of her refreshed drink before responding. “And you are?”
Charlie looked over Anna's shoulder at the lady in question. Her overly painted face was a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “How would she know I was looking over there, if she wasn’t looking over here?”
Anna turned the scowl up a notch. “Back off, okay?”
It could have ended here, but Charlie was feeling mischievous. “If you came all the way over here to defend her honor, you wasted your time.”
“What the fuck are you trying to say?”
“Let's not play this game.” Charlie put her glass down. “You know I was looking at you.”
“Hell no!” Anna looked dumbfounded. “You ain't got no business looking at me like that. Do I look like some kinda femme to you?”
“Even the hardest woman has a soft spot and I want to play with yours.” Charlie gently caressed Anna’s forearm.
Stepping back, the young stud almost knocked a drink out of someone's hand. “I don't know where you come from--”
“Charlie. I'm Charlie.”
“--but we don't do that butch/butch stuff up here.” Anna struggled to find the right words. “That's just too gay.”
“Well, you don't have anything to worry about because I'm not a butch…”
Five minutes later, they were in the back of Anna's Jeep. “We're not supposed to be doing this,” she whispered as Charlie nibbled on her earlobe.
“If you feel uncomfortable, tell me to stop.”
Once Charlie's lips found their way to the sweet valley between her neck and shoulders, Anna's inhibitions melted away. She unbuttoned her denim shirt and allowed access to her pierced nipples.
Charlie pulled and twisted the silver rings with her teeth. Discovering the bulge in Anna's jeans, she began to gently tug it. Anna moaned as the strap-on rhythmically rocked against her clit.
Before Anna could protest, Charlie had unzipped her pants, unsnapped two of the leather clasps of the d-ring, and was directly strumming her clit.
Then, the phone rang. Charlie would have ignored it, but it was Toi's ringtone. Reluctantly, she drew back. “Be chill, sweetie. I have to take this.” By the time she got to the phone the ringing had stopped, but she had a brand new text message: My house-15min-Toi.
Anytime Toi was home on a Friday night, something had to be wrong. . .

To follow the adventures of Charlie, Toi and their crew,
read Operation Butch Ambush in:

Copyright © 2008. Used by permission of author. All Rights Reserved.

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