Best of Best Lesbian Erotica 2 by Tristan Taormino

Author:Tristan Taormino [TRISTAN TAORMINO]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2012-03-22T04:00:00+00:00

Cop-Out

Rosalind Christine Lloyd

Troi was into picking up girls at straight clubs. Tonight, her destination was Butter, a hip-hop club in Tribeca.

An ex-Marine and former college hoop all-star, Troi was now a New York City police detective. Her preoccupation with combat and competition defined a quiet but powerfully aggressive demeanor. She kept her 5’10”, 160-pound body buffed to masculine perfection with rigorous daily workouts that involved pumping iron with the muscle queens at a gay gym in Chelsea where she matched their workout regimen to achieve similar macho results. Every inch of her was solid, sinuous, rippling muscle.

Her skin was like dark fudge, as rich and even in tone as a sinfully delicious chocolate cake. When she laughed, a mouth full of perfectly spaced teeth framed by thin, silky lips accentuated a smile that ignited the light in her unusually light brown eyes. Her hands were massive: hands designed to palm basketballs, handle heavy artillery, and apprehend suspects, among other useful things.

Tonight she opted for a pair of soft brown leather pants and a suede camel-colored shirt. She had a knack for choosing loose-fitting clothes that enabled her to neutralize any semblance of femininity. Her breasts were almost always held hostage, bound tightly beneath her clothing. She selected one of her larger dildos, the one she’d named Shaft, along with her new leather travel harness. Shaft was handmade, designed precisely to her specifications to include, among other things, a skin tone that matched her complexion. The startling replica even came equipped with a fake foreskin that made it feel that much more authentic. It served its purpose. It set her back quite a lot of money but she quickly discovered it was worth every cent and more. She finished her outfit with her favorite designer square-toe boots (for men, of course), splashed on a men’s designer cologne, and dared to accessorize with a fat ruby in her left ear and a matching pinky ring for that hint of gangsta.

To throw people off her trail, she would often flash her police badge on her way into the clubs she cruised. Besides being allowed admission at no charge, she avoided being carded. This particular evening, it was obvious that Butter was seriously implementing its ID policy because of the excess crowd of underage kids hanging out behind the ropes, trying to get in.

Hip-hop clubs were perfect venues for her obsession because the social element was fiercely dark, wild, uninhibited, and crowded enough for her to move around freely without inciting any suspicion. The carnival feeling reminded Troi of her freaknik college days. Most of the men were typical in their badass attitudes, adhering to the typical negative stereotypes of male posturing, and taking the pessimistic connotations of the music way too seriously. Talk about game—all of this worked in Troi’s favor because she offered an alternative. Her meticulous, classy, cash-money look attracted the girls’ attention every time. The only problem she ever encountered were the down-low, bisexual switch-hitter boys prowling around who correctly

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