Naming it

This erotic story excerpt by Jean Roberta from Naming It in Best Lesbian Erotica 2015 was originally published by Cleis Press and is a finalist in the Good Sex Awards Best Sexy Talk Category. Show it some love and vote for this story in the Readers' Choice awards by 20 June.

Naming it

“Deirdre of the Sorrows,” sighed Tam (named Tammy-Lynne at birth). “Do you plan to grieve for your lost love forever?” Tam wrapped one strong arm around Deirdre’s thin shoulders, and soon found herself clutching the air.

“Fuck off!” Deirdre’s eyes were the colour of a storm-cloud. “I’m not like you. I can’t just hop on the next one that comes along. Paulie asked me to move in with her and I said yes. Do you know what a big commitment that was? I thought I could trust her.  And then –“ Deirdre wiped her eyes.

“Some butches be crazy,” Tam said agreeably. “Getting it on with Sherry in a public washroom was not the best way for her to show you how much she wanted to share her life with you. ‘Specially when you were there in the bar, drinking. As my mom says, what goes in must come out. I wonder how much time Paulie thought she had before you would need to use the facilities.”

The scene in the bar the night before had been like a fireworks display. The sound of Deirdre’s fists banging on the metal door had reverberated through the bar like a bass line, with the screech of Deirdre’s outraged voice as the melody. Everyone in the lesbian bar and gossip centre had been given a topic of conversation for a week.

Deirdre had been like a porcelain vase full of dynamite that seemed likely to blow her apart. Tam knew that most of that rage was based on hurt, fear and self-contempt. Even still, the scene had been sexy as hell.

Today Deirdre was hung over from an excess of emotion, not an excess of booze.  She sat curled up on her sofa, her golden-brown hair hanging in her face, and her bare feet in Tam’s lap. They had known each other since they were both in elementary school, and they had comforted each other through many disappointments.

“I don’t –“ Deirdre started.

“I don’t mean –“ said Tam.

“You first,” said Deirdre.

Tam started again. “I don’t mean you should rush out and find someone else right away. I know it takes time. I just think you need to stay away from her until you feel stronger, and you need to think about your future, that’s all. That’s all I said.”

“That’s not all you said.” Deirdre’s small, firm breasts still rose and fell with her breath in a way that made it hard for a listener to focus on her words. “Tam, I know you mean well. I’m really glad you were there. I don’t know what I would have done if – but you made it sound as if you thought I was, like –.”

Tam waited a beat, then jumped in. “Like Paulie?”

“Yes. A player. Someone who plays all the time and doesn’t give a shit. Someone who promises what they don’t mean. I can’t do that.” Tears glistened in Deirdre’s eyes. “Jesus, Tam, do you think I’m a complete fool?”

Tam gathered Deirdre into her arms and rocked her. “Honey.” Tam gathered her thoughts. “Paulie’s the fool, not you. She’s the one who lost out.”

To Tam’s delight, Deirdre didn’t slither away, as she usually did. “Thank you,” she said, nestled against Tam’s collarbone. “For not saying you told me so. I know you thought I should go slow, and I didn’t. I wanted a home and a serious relationship, you know? We’re not kids any more.”

Deirdre then changed the subject. “Did you call me honey?”

“I did, and I could call you other things too: sweet thing, baby, angel-face.”

Something rippled through Deirdre’s supple body. “Always joking, that’s you,” she said. “That’s why we could never really be an item, even though you’re my best friend.”

Deirdre’s phone rang for the sixth time that morning. She glanced at it, saw the name “Paulie Diddle” once again, and made a visible effort to ignore the sound.

“Good girl,” said Tam. She tightened her embrace and kissed Deirdre on the lips before she could pull away.

“Ummph,” said Deirdre. Tam held her close and slipped the tip of her tongue between Deirdre’s lips.

Deirdre broke the kiss. “What the fuck, Tam?” she asked. Tam knew how Deirdre sounded when she was really angry, and this question had a different tone. She was curious, even intrigued.

“What do you think, baby?” responded Tam the seducer. “Let’s try it.”

“You’re my friend, Tam,” explained Deirdre as though explaining the incest taboo. “Who will I turn to if you let me down?”

“I won’t, honey.” Tam pulled Deirdre onto her lap, and the lightweight woman settled herself as gracefully as a cat.

Whatever might happen, Tam the song-writer knew she would get at least one new song out of this episode. A few bluesy notes began to form a pattern in her mind.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, Tam. I’ll be okay.”

Tam lovingly kneaded Deirdre’s backbone, one vertebra at a time. “Maybe you will,” said Tam, aiming for a tone that was halfway between promise and threat. “I want to take advantage of you.”

Deirdre shivered under Tam’s hands. Her eyes were wet.  She seemed to be arguing silently with herself. “What the hell?” she asked aloud. “Oh, Tam.” She pulled Tam’s face to hers for a fierce kiss. Tongue met tongue in Deirdre’s mouth.

After a few delicious moments, Tam tugged at Deirdre’s T-shirt, and the wearer leaned back to pull the fabric up over her head. Deirdre then unhooked her bra, releasing her breasts into Tam’s eager hands. Deirdre’s nipples were like hard, pink berries.

Tam was soon naked to the waist, her full breasts bouncing a little as Deirdre felt, then squeezed them. “Bodacious,” she snickered.

Tam couldn’t help turning red. What kind of lover did Deirdre want her to be, and did the sight of her womanly boobs clash with Deirdre’s fantasies? Apparently not. Deirdre didn’t seem at all disappointed.

Two pairs of jeans and panties were the next things to go. The emergence of Deirdre’s lithe, pale hips and her triangle of light brown hair lit a fire in Tam’s own crotch. She wanted to explore the treasure-trove that Paulie had lost because of her own stupid greed.

While holding Deirdre on her lap, Tam managed to slide two fingers between a wet opening to tickle Deirdre’s clit. “I need you to lie down,” Tam ordered, hoping her girl was horny enough not to rebel against a bossy command.

“Oh, Tam,” moaned Deirdre, scrambling into position. She was a pit of need, a hotbed of molten lava. Tam found her way in with questioning fingers that soon found answers. Tam could hardly believe that Deirdre wanted this, needed to be fucked by Tam, of all people.

Tam lowered her mouth to Deirdre’s dark-pink inner lips and spread them slightly with one hand to expose her swollen clit. The secret, salty taste of Deirdre’s juice was a reward in itself. Tam stroked and circled and plunged far enough in to feel the slight dent of Deirdre’s cervix, the entrance to her womb.

Deirdre’s rising moans let Tam know she was on the right track. Tam needed to find the exact right spots inside a hungry cunt that needed to be touched, gently or roughly, to unleash Deirdre’s considerable energy. Tam knew she wanted to let go, to let it all out.

Tam found ridges inside Deirdre, and scratched them experimentally. She prodded a spongy place and felt the slickness shift and move. “Ohhh,” yelled Deirdre. “Don’t – stop!” Tam kept going as Deirdre’s muscles squeezed around her fingers and wetness poured out of her.

When Deirdre seemed somewhat recovered, Tam pressed her palm against her girl’s slit, enjoying the wet warmth and the hot woman-smell that floated up to her nose. The dazed look on Deirdre’s face almost moved Tam to tears, and she slid down to wrap Deirdre in her arms.

For a few minutes, both women seemed perfectly content. Even the persistent tingle in Tam’s cunt was enjoyable.

Tam thought of her collection of dicks in various colors, sizes and materials. She wished she had thought of bringing one with her, but then she wondered about Deirdre’s possible reaction. Were fake penises Politically Incorrect in her philosophy? Were they acceptable if they didn’t look much like anything that grew on a human male, or any other mammal? How did Deirdre feel about butt-plugs? Bondage? Role-play? Tam was aghast that she and Deirdre had never discussed such a broad and diverse topic.

Deirdre moved. “Heh,” she snickered, and reached down to find Tam’s clit.

“You don’t have to—“ started Tam. Then she couldn’t finish her sentence. You don’t have to pay me back? You don’t have to feel sorry for me? Tam remembered how insulted she felt when Deirdre had told her she didn’t “have to.”

Deirdre was swift and skillful, and Tam was already near the point of an explosion. Deirdre tormented Tam’s clit by squeezing and rolling it until Tam felt her whole cunt erupting in spasms.

Somehow the two women shifted into a comfortable side-by-side position.“Honey,” sighed Tam, “it was better than I ever expected.” Impulsively she added, “I love you.”

“No you don’t.” Deirdre’s voice was soothing, but her words hurt like needles. “You love me as a friend and that’s good, but we can’t afford to get confused about what’s going on.”

Tam stared at her. “Baby, we’re not confused. We just figured out what we really mean to each other.”

The phone rang. “Jesus. Can’t you put her on hold?”

Deirdre sat up. “Don’t worry, Tam. I’ll do something better. I can report her to the phone company for harassment. I’d like to get a restraining order against her, but first she has to do something worse than phoning me fifty times a day. I think that could be arranged.”

Tam felt chilled to the bone. Deirdre the law student was already becoming the Queen of Torts, and she didn’t want protection. Worst of all, she was thinking too much about Paulie.

Tam made things worse. “Maybe if I stay with you for a few days—“

“Oh, Tam. No way. Look, I’m really glad you, I mean we, um, you gave me what I needed. I really needed it and I’m grateful. Thank you. But we can’t afford to ruin our friendship.”

Tam was speechless for a second. “Ruin it? Deirdre, we need to take it to the next level.”

Deirdre left the sofa with amazing speed, and put her clothes back on like a knight putting on armor. “Seriously, Tam. You know I’m right. I don’t think we should see each other for about a month.”

Tam felt desperate. She knew too well how Deirdre would react if pushed. “How about a week?” she bargained. “Not a month. And why don’t we meet in a coffee shop, maybe Java’s, to talk about our relationship. Meanwhile, if you need me for anything –“

“I’ll call you,” Deirdre promised unconvincingly. “Okay, next Sunday at Java’s. At noon.”

““I’ll be counting the minutes,” said Tam. “Okay, okay. I’m leaving. But please be there, Deirdre. Please.”

“I will. Take care, Tam.”

Tam was left to scramble off the sofa, take her clothes to the bathroom, make herself presentable and leave as quickly as possible. It was not what she wanted to do, but she had the sense to know that lingering would be counterproductive.

*

The week dragged by with the excruciating slowness of dripping water wearing away the enamel in a sink. Tam couldn’t stop thinking about Deirdre, and she channelled her anxiety into a song about the scene in the bar, a lesbian version of the shoot-out at the O.K. Corral.

At last Sunday arrived. Tam showered and dressed to the sound of church bells, and wondered how many church-goers really gained relief by confiding their troubles to the Lord. She wasn’t a believer, and neither was Deirdre. Their escape from the Christianity of their families was one the things they had in common.

Thanks to Whomever, Java’s was half-empty and Deirdre sat alone at a table. She was wearing a favorite blue blouse that set off her blue-grey eyes, and Tam pondered her wardrobe choice.  Why was Deirdre determined to look adorable?

Deirdre didn’t stand up, but she gave Tam an encouraging look. “Hi.”

“Hi,” answered Tam. “I need a mocha latte for this. Can I get you anything?”

“No, I have a cappuccino and a lemon square. I’m good.”

You’re excellent, thought Tam, but you don’t believe it. That’s the root of your problems.

Tam returned to the table, and Deirdre looked her in the eyes. “So?” asked Tam.

“So Paulie agreed to leave me alone after I warned her about legal consequences.”

Tam tried to keep the smile off her face, but couldn’t. “Good girl.”

“You know me,” said Deirdre. “Tam, I – couldn’t stop thinking about last week. You know.”

“Oh, I know. Me too.” Tam resisted the impulse to reach across the table to kiss her beloved.

“I think we should agree on some rules.” Deirdre actually reached for Tam’s hand as she was about to grasp her coffee cup.

“Rules?” Tam felt as if she had been handed a surprise package that might be a bomb.

“Our relationship has changed. We can’t go back now. We need to name it for what it is.”

Tam felt as if her smile would split her face. “A love that was meant to be?”

Deirdre looked thoughtful. “Lust and friendship? A hot-crotch conspiracy? I don’t know. You could write a song about it.”

“I’m working on it, my dear. And I’ll tell the whole world it’s about you.”

Deirdre laughed on a sigh. “Tam, control yourself.”

Tam took a deep breath. “Deirdre, how do you feel about toys? You know.”

Deirdre gave her a wicked grin. “Sex-toys? I love them.”

“Seriously? You never said so.”

“You never asked,” replied the vixen. “So I never showed you mine.” Tam felt lightheaded. Deirdre went on: “We need some rules so we don’t get hurt. I just want us to go slow. No moving in together for at least six months, and we should promise not to date anyone else until we really know what we want to do. Tam.”

“Honey, I don’t want anyone but you. I swear I’ll be faithful to you. If either of us ever wants to be with someone else, we should tell each other first.”

Deirdre looked relieved. “Exactly.” She looked down, then looked Tam in the eyes. “Tam. Did I ever tell you you’re my hero?”

“You’re telling me now.” Tam held Deirdre’s hand, hoping her touch would convey everything she wanted to say.  “I’ll try to live up to that.”  Tam imagined Deirdre naked, waiting for her in a real bed after brilliantly defending a client in court. Tam felt profoundly lucky.

“Tam.” Deirdre looked dewy-eyed, as though she were fighting off tears. “I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, honey.” Tam felt supremely confident, at least in the moment. “We’re here now, and we both know what we want. One day at a time, right?”

That was the phrase Deirdre was planning to use. “You got it.”

 

If you loved this story, vote for it in the Readers’ Choice awards by 20 June or buy the book.

Jean Roberta teaches English in a university on the Canadian prairies, and writes in several genres. She married the woman of her dreams on Halloween 2010. Over 100 of her erotic stories have appeared in print anthologies, as well as four single-author collections, and a bawdy historical novella. Her local-color novel is forthcoming.

 
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