Best Lesbian Erotica 2010 by Kathleen Warnock

Author:Kathleen Warnock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2010-10-20T04:00:00+00:00

FLICK CHICKS

Allison Wonderland

From my place on the chaise, I examine my lover, observing her primping ritual at the vanity table. Sitting on the cushion, clad in sheer chiffon chemise and sugar-cone cup bra, Mae looks like she belongs to a different era, an era of starlets and glamour girls and pinup queens. When passersby pass Mae by, they often pause for a moment, expecting the scenery to segue from Technicolor to black-and-white.

Mae plucks her lipstick from the tabletop, swivels the tube and glides the wedge along her lips, creating a circle of crimson. Next are her eyes, the lashes extended with mascara, the lids anointed with gold powder—glitzy gold, like the statuettes dispensed at the Academy Awards. Now, the coiffure: Mae’s hair is her crowning glory, Jean Harlow blonde with Bettie Page bangs. She unrolls the pistachio pinsetters, arms raised and bent at the elbows, resembling a ballerina poised in pirouette. When she is finished, she scrutinizes her reflection in the mirror. Sliding her glasses onto her nose, Mae peers through the cat’s-eye frames of the spectacles, studying the visage of a vixen.

“Let’s get cracking.”

Mae jerks at the sound of my voice. She hates it when I do that. Frown crimping her lips, she turns in my direction, sees me reclining on the lounge, limbs limp, head cushioned by a fluffy round pillow. Pinched between my fingers is a vinyl riding crop, its shaft tapping against the veneer of the maple wood.

Mae rises to her feet, saunters over to the settee, her slender heels stabbing the parquet floor. “What’s this?” she demands, fingering the fabric of my brassiere.

My attire is nearly identical to Mae’s. Garish garters engird my thighs. Black satin gloves conceal the flesh from forearms to fingertips. Nylon stockings cleave to my calves, travel to my toes, and then disappear inside shiny black stilettos. However, unlike Mae and her missile cups, I have opted for a simple black bra.

“What’s wrong?” I pout, feigning innocence.

Mae seizes a strap, stretching it away from my shoulder. Upon release, it snaps against my skin, evoking a savory synthesis of pain and pleasure.

“I don’t like the bullet style,” I assert, guiding my body into a sitting position. “It looks like something that belongs on the obstacle course at driving school.”

“You…” Mae starts, but this is as far as she gets. I watch as her gaze strays to the implement in my hand, watch as her eyes glide along the shiny black switch.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I drawl, pressing the tip of the whip into Mae’s shoulder, eliciting titters and trembles.

Mae settles onto my lap, the lacy accents of her scanties tickling my thighs. “Oh?” she queries, digits stroking the curve of my hip.

My limbs quiver at the contact. “You’re thinking—”

“I can speak for myself, thank you,” Mae affirms, and snatches the whip from my grip. She hops off my lap, strides to the tripod assembled in the center of the room.

I watch as my lover adjusts the camera. “Well?”

“Hmm?” Mae murmurs, lips pursed in concentration.

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