Here's an excerpt from WET & WILD (lesbian short story):
Sitting at my desk, I try hard not squirm in my chair. My overactive imagination is wreaking havoc with my normally focused mind today. It has to do with Gabrielle’s phone call last night.
“Wear something filmy on top, a see-through blouse, and perhaps a short leather skirt.” Her voice resonates in my head this morning. “And no panties.”
I shift in the chair again and a soft moan slips out. It isn’t my usual attire for work, but I dare not disobey, ruin my chance of seeing her again after work. Images flood my brain, a montage of snapshots from the last time we met. Gabrielle molded and kneaded my young body until I was like putty in her hands. Then she took me to the center of the universe and back and, perhaps even an unknown realm in the far reaches of outer space. An unnamed organ below my belly clenches and sends out tentacles of lightning to the center of my mons. A wave of dizziness forces my eyes shut, and I shake my head to clear the vicarious images.
What could she be planning tonight? I reach for a file at the corner of my desk and the silk blouse caresses a nipple. It springs to life and hardens into a little nub. My skirt shifts too, and I’m acutely aware of the scent of my sex, a pleasant, musky aroma that reminds me of the dampness between my legs...a heat-seeking moisture that throbs with need.
I glance at the wall clock and my heartbeat accelerates. Fifteen minutes before it strikes 5:00 p.m., and then another thirty minutes maneuvering through downtown traffic. Forty-five minutes before I’ll be at Gabrielle’s condo.
Be with her.
The anticipation nearly paralyzes me. I close the file I picked up and return it to the same spot on my desk. There isn’t enough time to work on it, and I couldn’t concentrate on the contents even if I had an hour to devote to it. To keep my hands and my mind busy, I arrange the clutter on my desk and straighten the pens and pencils, shelving the erotic images flashing behind my eyelids. I’d rather call them forth on the long drive, heighten the tension and prolong the anticipation. I liken it to a child preparing to take a vacation to Disneyland. Half the fun is thinking about the trip before you arrive.
My intention to savor the lurid recollections fails miserably. I feel her hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back until my throat is exposed to her luscious lips. My core hums with the recollection of her fingers massaging my clit before she spreads the lips of my sex and slides them in. Her intrusion is rough; the way I like it.
