Lesbian Pulp Fiction by Katheirne Forrest

Author:Katheirne Forrest
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2010-08-16T00:00:00+00:00

From eleven to five they shopped. Ellen chose only the best stores where everything was good so that they didn’t have to waste too much time in selection.

They went back to the hotel to freshen up and change and left in a taxi at six.

“We’re late,” Cori said.

“Not for New Yorkers,” Ellen laughed. “New Yorkers hate people who arrive exactly on the dot. They’re never ready on time themselves.”

The cab raced uptown to the east seventies.

“Maybe I won’t fit in with these people. I’m just a small-town hick, you know.”

“Stop that, Cori. I spotted you for something else the first time I saw you and you know it. All I hope is that everyone here tonight is attached. I’d hate like hell to bring you all the way to New York just to lose you.”

“You don’t really believe that’s possible, do you?” Cori became serious. “You know that when you’re around, I’m not even aware of other people, male or female.”

“Please be a little aware tonight, dear. Remember I’m bringing you here for a purpose not just for the sake of a party.”

The cab pulled up before an elegant apartment house and a robot-like doorman popped out. He ushered them into a plush lobby at the opposite side of which was a bank of elevators.

Once inside the elevator Cori asked, “Do I look all right? I’d hate to have you ashamed of me. Will these people know about us?”

“You’ve waited a little late to ask that last question. About us, yes, they’ll sense it but they won’t discuss it openly unless we bring it up. And, yes, you look marvelous. I just hope you won’t see something you prefer to me.”

The door slid open and Ellen led Cori down a corridor.

“I take it you’ve been here before,” said Cori with a slight snap.

“None of that, now. We’ve been all through that and you know it’s only a part of my dim past. Please, darling, try not to think of that every time you look at Leta. She’s really a nice person.”

Ellen pushed a bell and, after a short wait, the door opened.

“Ellen! My God, it seems years! Come on in. Thank goodness you’re the first to arrive. At least we’ll have a chance to say hello.” This tall, chic, Scandinavian looking woman turned to Cori and said, “And this is your shopping friend from the Deep South.” She extended a hand, which Cori gripped, and smiled.

“I’m Leta Marston and I’m so glad that you and Ellen could spare a little of your time for us natives. Come on in and let’s settle down with a drink before anyone else gets here.”

Ellen, between them, said, “Leta, you never change. If you’ll let me get a word in, I’d like you to meet Cori Hadley.” Ellen preceded them into a tastefully decorated modern living room.

“Still scotch for you, Ellen?”

“Yes, and for Cori, too. It was marvelous to meet some southerners who drink scotch. I went down there thinking that bourbon was the only liquor they were familiar with.

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