Sex between women is mirror geography. The subtlety of its secret--utterly the same, utterly different. You are a looking-glass world. You are the hidden place that opens to me on the other side of the glass. I touch your smooth surface and then my fingers sink through to the other side. You are what the mirror reflects and invents. I see myself, I see you, two, one, none. I don't know. Maybe I don't need to know.
- BOILING POINT
- SAY IT WITH A STRAP-ON
- DOUBLE DECKER
- PAST PERFECT
- HALLOWING EVE
- 30 SECONDS
- LISTEN TO ME
- UNTIL NEXT TIME
- And an excerpt from the upcoming BEACH MAGIC
EXCERPT after the cut...
From Listen to Me:
She's standing there—by the window—with her back to the room, silhouetted by the moonlight filtering through the sliding glass doors that lead to the balcony. I'm sure she hears me enter, but she doesn't turn around. Closing the heavy door behind me, I turn the dead bolt, and she flinches to the snick of it.
We've planned this, but she's still nervous. I can tell. Although she's perfectly still, I can read the apprehension it in the set of her shoulders. A little fear won't hurt. In fact, it'll probably help. I cross the room in four long strides, tossing my shoulder bag on the king-sized bed in passing, and I stand very close to her with my hands clasped behind my back.
Leaning forward so that just my breasts brush against her back, I bury my nose in her hair and inhale deeply. Her thick, dark locks smell like rain—warm, summer rain tinged with the cloying scent of honeysuckle blossoms. I lift her hair away from her neck and whisper into the skin just below her ear, "Listen to me." She shivers to the husky tone of my voice, the sensation of my breath. "Are you ready for this?"