Give and Take: 20th Anniversary Edition of Best Lesbian Erotica

BOOK GIVEAWAY

Comment on any of the posts on the tour for a chance to win a free copy of Best Lesbian Erotica 20th Anniversary Edition. The drawing will be held by February 28th and the winner announced by March 5th.

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The first time I saw L, she was at a local open mic with her guitar player. I could hear her from down the street belting out Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit" and Stevie Ray Vaughan's "Pride and Joy." It wasn't just the power of her voice that grabbed me, though. It was that she didn't bother to change the gender when she covered songs by men, and hearing her sing, "I love my baby, she's long and lean," did something to me down deep.

It's hard for me to explain how ignorant I was about lesbian desire when I was first feeling it. Everything felt so impossible that I couldn't even figure out what it was I wanted, what exactly I was thinking about. I only barely knew that women could be together, and it sort of seemed like at least one woman would need to have short hair and "be the man."

I wish I could say that this was how I thought when I was super-young and still virginal, but at this point I had already been sleeping with a particular girl, off and on, for years. The thing I couldn't understand was that these things could count, that this desire had real weight and shape and value, and that a woman could get up on stage and sing, loudly, "She's my sweetie little thing."

I followed L to all her shows, and I couldn't get enough of staring at her. Maybe I couldn't quite imagine making out with her, or being loved by her, but I did know that I wanted to be in her presence, as much as she would let me. And gradually she began to allow me to follow her to other places, to IHOP when she was tired after hours of singing, or to her best friend's house. I have since read early lesbian novels such as Olivia and Carol, and one of the major things they seem to describe is this feeling, of wanting to be in a particular fascinating woman's presence, even if one isn't quite sure of what one wants to happen next.

I remember this giant, gaping need. More than anything, I needed every minute I could get of her attention. Something about her permission to do anything at all with her gave me permission, in a deep way I couldn't articulate, to exist.

There was another side to it, though. She needed something from me, too, even if it wasn't love. She understood the nature of my attention, I think, the worshipfulness of it, and she needed that to exist as proof that she wasn't wasting her time with her music, that she was worth watching, that she herself was worthwhile. She enjoyed using her power over me. "You can ride with me," she would promise sometimes, and I'm sure she knew that I would agree to nearly anything in exchange.

My story in the 20th Anniversary Edition of Best Lesbian Erotica isn't about L. But it is about that mutual need, and I thought about L when I was writing it. I spun that situation around so I could write about it from several sides at once. There's a young musician and an older musician, and they both need and are needed.

Here's an excerpt:

The first time I kissed a rock star, I thought she would taste pampered and expensive. But musicians don't get lives of luxury. Violet's lips were rough. Her tongue carried hints of the flavors of roadside diners. Her muscles felt ropey when I gripped her upper arms.

She kissed me back with familiar desperation. I played with the edges of her T-shirt sleeves as I planned the things I wanted to do to her. When I let up on the kiss, Violet was looking at me like I had some kind of answer. Feeling bad because I knew I didn't, I shook my head at her. "Maybe you'll be sorry about this in the morning."

"I won't be."

"How do you know?"

She bit her lip and didn't say anything.

"Different venue every night," I said. "I get it." It was so stupid that this stung. If I knew one thing, it was this. Thirty hours, tops. A desperate exchange, and neither of us would realize what we'd given or received until much later.

"You…"

I kissed her again before she could fumble for a compliment she didn't quite mean. I carried Violet to my bed. I wanted to give her the orgasm of her life, something she'd be chasing for days or weeks to come. Even if she didn't remember my name later, I wanted to be sure she never forgot how I made her feel.

You can find the 20th Anniversary Edition of Best Lesbian Erotica at Amazon US, Amazon UK, Barnes and Noble, your favorite indie bookstore, and more.

You can see the other posts in the tour at the links below. :)

Feb 10
Sacchi Green-Introduction
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Feb. 11
Rose de Fer-“Dust”
http://poisonthorns.blogspot.co.uk/

Feb. 12
Louise Blaydon-“Ascension”
https://louiseblaydon.wordpress.com/

Feb 13
MeganMc Ferren-“The Royalty Underground”
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Feb. 14
Harper Bliss-“Reunion Tour”
http://wp.me/p2tvlj-Yn

Feb 15
D.L. King-“Hot Blood”
dlkingerotica.blogspot.com

Feb 16
Jean Roberta-“Tears from Heaven”
http://jean_roberta.livejournal.com

Feb 17
Sinclair Sexsmith-“Luscious and Wild”
http://www.sugarbutch.net

Feb 18
R.G. Emanuelle-“Smorgasbord”
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Feb 19
Rose P. Lethe-“A Professional”
https://roseplethe.wordpress.com/2016/01/31/excerpt-the-professional/

Feb 20
Anna Watson-“Easy”
http://thetotalfemme.com

Feb 21
Valerie Alexander-“Grind House”
http://www.valeriealexander.org

Feb 22
Annabeth Leong-“Give and Take”
annabethleong.blogspot.com

Feb 23
Frankie Grayson-“Mirror Mirror”
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Feb 24
Cheyenne Blue-“The Road to Hell”
www.cheyenneblue.com

Feb 25
Emily L. Byrne-“The Further Adventures of Miss Scarlet”
http://writeremilylbyrne.blogspot.com

Feb 26
Sossity Chiricuzio-“Make them Shine”
http://sossitywrites.tumblr.com/

Feb 27
Teresa Noelle Roberts-“Tomato Bondage”
http://www.teresanoelleroberts.com/?p=2185

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.

Girls Rule, Boys Drool by Lucy Felthouse

Today I've got information about Girls Rule, Boys Drool, a collection of three lesbian erotic short stories from the always amazing Lucy Felthouse.

Here's a description of each of the included stories:

Girls Rule, Boys Drool

Boyish dyke Toni is working at the local golf club, serving champagne to arrogant, privileged folk, when she spots Clarissa. She’s one of the posh people, but she looks like she’d rather be somewhere else—anywhere else. Toni’s immediately smitten and wants to put a smile on the older woman’s beautiful face, so she decides to show Clarissa just why girls rule and boys drool.

Making An Impression

Joely’s holiday has consisted mainly of chilling out by the hotel pool, having the occasional swim and reading lots. That is, until a hot brunette arrives and suddenly, Joely has trouble concentrating on anything else. Her gaydar non-existent, Joely decides on an unusual course of action to find out whether the newcomer bats for the same side as her.

Fear as an Aphrodisiac

Girlfriends Nikki and Sonya are on holiday in Edinburgh, Scotland’s capital city. They’re having fun sightseeing, until a super-scary tourist attraction sends Nikki into meltdown. Once outside again, Nikki slowly starts to feel better—and, much to her surprise, horny. Quickly realising that the fear has acted as a potent aphrodisiac, she decides to take advantage of that fact, right there in the middle of the city.

Available from:

Amazon UK

Amazon US

All Romance E-books

Coming soon to all other good eBook retailers.

Add to Goodreads

Excerpt:
Finally, Nikki and Sonya found the turning off Edinburgh’s Royal Mile that they needed. They’d expected a road, but Mary King’s Close was nothing more than a narrow passageway that looked like it led to the next street along. Glancing at one another, it seemed both girls suspected they were in the wrong place—despite the name of the alleyway—but as they headed along the close, they came across more signage and discovered they were wrong. The signs proclaimed that they were indeed at The Real Mary King’s Close, and this time they exchanged a relieved look and moved inside the tourist attraction.

After paying their money, they were put into a group that was already waiting, and after a few minutes was called to attention by a member of staff. The young man, dressed in incredibly old-fashioned attire welcomed them to the attraction and gave some brief information about what they should expect from the tour, as well as some health and safety spiel.

Then they were ushered deeper into the building and down some stairs. Another peculiarly-dressed actor met them and gave his talk. The group soon learned that Mary King’s Close had been a town of sorts, a collection of streets and houses, named after the most prominent local—Mary King. It had functioned well, this part of Edinburgh—in its day. But it had also befallen hard times and tragedy, including the Black Death. It was rumoured that people affected had been bricked into their houses to prevent the disease spreading further. It had never been confirmed nor denied, but the very idea sent a shiver down Nikki’s spine.

As they advanced into the underground town—now covered over by modern Edinburgh—they learned more about the inhabitants, their lives and, in some cases, their deaths. By the time they were shown the shrine of a young girl, covered with offerings both old and new, Nikki was clinging onto Sonya’s arm so hard that the other girl gave her a nudge.

“Oi, you’re hurting me! What’s the matter with you?”

“Sorry,” Nikki replied. “I’m getting a little creeped out, that’s all.”

“A little? The way you’re squeezing my arm, I’m beginning to think you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“I said I’m sorry. God. Don’t you think it’s spooky down here?”

A meaningful glance from the tour guide shut them up. Nikki dropped her hand to Sonya’s and held it. The group continued through the subterranean labyrinth, listening to more tales of the past, the things that had happened within the very place they stood, over four hundred years ago.

Some periods of total darkness with recounts of history later, and Nikki was a nervous wreck. She’d always had an overactive imagination, and although she’d never seen a ghost—despite Sonya’s words—she believed in them and was really succumbing to the eeriness of the ancient place. She had gotten to the stage where she fully expected to see the spectre of little Annie—having left the site of her shrine—peering around a corner, beckoning to her. Or the chilly finger of a plague victim trailing down the back of her neck. She grew so paralyzed with fear that she fell silent and didn’t take in a word of the rest of the excursion—simply holding onto Sonya’s hand as they walked through the rooms and tunnels.

When they eventually emerged into the outside world once more, Nikki heaved a sigh of relief. “Sonya, darling, take me for a drink, now. A stiff one. A double vodka and coke sounds perfect right now. Maybe even a triple.”

“Were you really that scared?” The other woman looked disbelieving.

“What do you mean, were? I still bloody am. I’m sure I’d have found it interesting if I wasn’t so busy being terrified. I’m surprised I didn’t wet myself.”

“Aww, babe.” Sonya pulled the other girl into her arms. “I didn’t realise you hated it that much. We could have left if I’d known.”

“No,” Nikki shook her head. “It’s okay, I didn’t want to ruin it for you. I just got to the stage where I blocked it all out. But I’d still really like a drink, if you don’t mind.”

Sonya gently pushed Nikki against the wall of the alleyway and hugged her once more. “Okay, we’ll go for a drink soon. Let me hold you for a few minutes, first.”

The other girl said nothing, just relaxed into her lover’s embrace and slowly, very slowly, felt the fear ebbing away. With not a small amount of horror, she realised that she was turned on. Her knickers were damp and sticking to her, and the heat emanating from between her legs was unmistakable. What the actual fuck? She kept quiet, instead nuzzling into Sonya’s neck and pressing a kiss to the delicate skin there.

“Ooh,” Sonya said, shuddering, “that was lovely. What was that for?”

“For being nice.” Nikki’s voice was muffled, and she kissed her girlfriend again.

“Hey,” Sonya said, grabbing Nikki’s hands and squeezing them, “you’d better stop that, otherwise I’m going to get turned on. And that’s the last thing you want right now. I’m trying to be understanding here, sweetheart.”

Nikki came to the conclusion that she didn’t mind if Sonya got turned on, not at all. In fact, some sexy fun might just take her mind off the creepy underground place they’d just visited. It was damn weird that being scared had turned her on, but the more she thought about it, the more she figured it kinda made sense. Nothing, in her opinion, was scarier than death, and the French word for orgasm translated to ‘the little death’—so it was widely accepted that sex and death were connected. Sex was about life, death was about, well, death. So, in an attempt to stop thinking about things that confused the hell out of her, she was going to embrace life, wholeheartedly. And if that meant experiencing the little death, then so be it.

“I don’t mind,” she whispered into Sonya’s ear.

“What do you mean, sweetie?” Sonya replied, grabbing her shoulders and moving her back so she could look at her face. “You don’t mind what?”

“I don’t mind you getting turned on.”

Author bio

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over eighty publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women's Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

She Who Must Be Obeyed

Sometime in 2014, I'll be part of a collection from Lethe Press called She Who Must Be Obeyed: Femme Dominant Lesbian Erotica, edited by the fantastic D.L. King.

This is from the original call for submissions:

There’s something about a hot, sexy woman in a pencil skirt, flawlessly made-up, wielding a riding crop. Well, I think there is. I know, for me, sometimes it’s hard to decide between the black leather pencil skirt and the black rubber one. You know what I mean. I’m talking about a woman worshipped by girls, bois and butch bottoms, alike; I’m not particular – well, not that particular.

Tell me stories about women who can silence a room simply by entering it. What’s it like when a mere glance can make you weak in the knees and a stare will put you in your place – at her feet. I’m looking for power exchange as seen from either the femme’s point of view or her worshipper’s.

I've gotten permission to share the table of contents, and I'm so excited looking at this list. I'll post more information when I've got it!

Noir by Valerie Alexander

The Nose Art Gal by Mary Tintagel

Uncharted Territory by Evan Mora

Grace: Under Pressure by D. L. King

The Bullwhip and the Bull Rider by Sacchi Green

Demo Model by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Too Old for This by Giselle Renarde

The Dame by Styx St. John

Triptych by Lula Lisbon

Angel on Fire by Jessica Lennox

Mares in Heat by Evey Brett

Tears from Heaven by Jean Roberta

Bleed by Teresa Noelle Roberts

Evelyn Gets Ready by Annabeth Leong

Anger Management by Beth Wylde

Garden Party by Karen Taylor

Prima by Katya Harris

The Ride by Kathleen Delaney-Adams

Stretch by Kathleen Tudor

Silvia by River Light

The book is available for preorder here.