The Universe Where Katie Lived

Like A Trip Through the Mirror: Lesbian Love in Alternate Realities, edited by Kathleen Tudor, was recently released by Circlet Press, and I'm happy to tell you that it includes my story, "The Universe Where Katie Lived."

In this story, Genevieve has discovered that reality "slips" whenever she has an orgasm. Over the years, she has learned various ways of regulating herself to avoid losing Katie, the woman she loves. For some time now, she's been insulated from her fears because a spinal injury in her current reality has made it impossible for her to come the way she always did. Genevieve's determined avoidance of orgasm, however, is causing tension between the lovers, and Katie presses for the chance to please Genevieve, unaware of the potential consequences. Here's a snip:

Katie answered with a kiss that deepened into a wild, full-on grope session. For the first time in years, Katie slid her hand down to Genevieve’s waist. Genevieve twitched. This was the transition point between where she had feeling and where she didn’t, and the gentle stroking of Katie’s fingers burned and scratched one moment, then faded to a ghostly breath the next. She sucked her breath in between her teeth and clamped her eyes shut.

“Sshh,” Katie soothed, kissing all over Genevieve’s face and down the side of her neck. “Let me touch you.”

Genevieve focused on relaxing her breathing, and slowly the raw, quivering sensations around her waist made her upper body writhe. An ache she hadn’t known existed began in the interior of her belly. Her hand moved toward her clit in a long-forgotten instinct.

“Good,” Katie said. “Can I lift you into your chair and take you to the shower?”

“Why?” Genevieve moaned, frantic and confused.

“I thought hot water would feel good. Besides, I want to clean you up real good to get you ready for all the dirty things I’m going to do to you.”

“OK,” Genevieve said again.

But once they reached the shower, Katie had more surprises. She pulled off her dress to reveal a lace bikini, through which Genevieve could see her erect nipples. She turned the water on and washed Genevieve with painstaking care and sensuality, covering every part so thoroughly that Genevieve was panting by the time it was through, just from thinking about Katie’s fingers gently working her over from forehead to asshole to feet and back.

Cleaning accomplished, Katie rubbed her body all over Genevieve’s, and imagination or not, Genevieve was sure she felt flashes of the rough stroking of Katie’s lace-covered breasts rubbing her thighs, and maybe even a few moments of the stabbing pleasure of Katie’s tongue across her clit.

“You’re wet,” Katie breathed, in a tone of wonder.

“I’d have come seven times by now if I could,” Genevieve said helplessly.

“People say they can still come, even if they don’t have sensation,” Katie said between licks, reaching her fingers up to tug at Genevieve’s lips and probe into her mouth. Genevieve opened for them and gasped when she tasted her own arousal slick and tangy on Katie’s hand. Katie continued, working her fingers in and out of Genevieve’s mouth. “People say it’s different, but it’s still an orgasm.”

A finger of doubt rippled up Genevieve’s confused spinal cord. She didn’t want to stop anything or fake anything. Would it be safe to let Katie continue? If she came only in her mind, would that count, as far as the universe was concerned?

I did a lot of research when I was writing this story, and hope I've done justice to the sexual experience of people with spinal injuries. There's not nearly enough information on this subject. Most of what I found was about fertility, not pleasure, and I found many accounts written by people frustrated that sexual pleasure was such a difficult topic to bring up with many health professionals.

I hope you enjoy the story. You can pick up the full collection here.

Like Hearts Enchanted

I love the cover of Like Hearts Enchanted, edited by Kathleen Tudor and Cecilia Tan. It'll be out soon from Circlet, and it includes a story of mine, "Violets." The original call described the anthology as follows: Everyone has experienced some form of unrequited love, but what if you could wave a magic wand or brew yourself a potion to turn things around? Would there be unintended consequences, or unforeseen troubles to overcome? How far would you go to bring love into your own life? Would you climb an enchanted mountain for that all-important ingredient? Or perhaps you’re not the caster of the spell… you’re the target. From singing sirens of the sea to faerie enchantresses, the storybooks are full of mortals being lured by lust, love, and magic. A love spell is cast… you show us what happens next.

I wanted my story to feel soft--my love spell would come as a gentle epiphany, revealing feelings already present but buried beneath the surface. Violets quickly became my guide.

According to Diane Ackerman's A Natural History of the Senses:

Violets contain ionone, which short-circuits our sense of smell. The flower continues to exude its fragrance, but we lose the ability to smell it. Wait a minute or two, and its smell will blare again. Then it will fade again, and so on. How like [Napoleon's] Josephine, a woman of full-bodied if occasionally recondite sensuality, to choose as her trademark a scent that assaults the nose with a dam-burst of odor one second, and the next leaves the nose virginal, only to rampage yet again. No scent is more flirtatious. Appearing, disappearing, appearing, disappearing, it plays hide and seek with our senses, and there's no way to get too much of it.

The image of the violet's elusive scent stuck with me. When I found that violets traditionally have a connection to the Virgin Mary, I had my story. The connection provided a tradition in which the magic could take place.

I'm excited to see the entire book, and I'll post more about "Violets"--including an excerpt--when it's closer to the anthology's release date.