Praised as "mesmerizing" by the InsightOut Book Club, the world's largest LGBT reading group, Cleis's Best Lesbian Erotica is the standard bearer for the genre. Kathleen Warnock takes the series to new heights of ecstasy with the 2014 installment, a sensational and sensual collection of delightfully smart smut. A Goldie nominated editor, Warnock collects stories from around the globe, giving this assemblage a fresh sensibility and new points of view.
The depth of its characters is what truly sets Best Lesbian Erotica 2014 apart; each woman is written so realistically that you can almost feel the warmth of their bodies in the bed beside you. Jonah loans her new neighbor more than just flour and sugar in Sam Tweed’s “Who at My Door is Standing.” Two strangers meet at the gym, and have the best workout of their lives, in Sinclair Sexsmith’s “A Good Workout.” A writer learns that her editor wants to turn her erotic anthology into a reality in Nairne Holtz’s “Call for Submission.” Sensual and seductive, this assertive anthology will grip you until the very last word.
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An excerpt from “Nocturne” by Cheryl Jimmerson in Best Lesbian Erotica 2014
She lives in a shabby two-story building. I entered cautiously. She was on the top floor. I climbed the stairs, taking notice of the cracks in the walls. Pieces of conversation and the noise of a blaring television spilled out into the hall. I took a deep breath and knocked on her door. She opened it and stepped aside. It was a small apartment, sparsely furnished with secondhand items. On the walls were vibrant African prints. She offered me a beer and we sat on the couch and talked. I kept my eyes straight ahead, unable to look at her at first.
“I didn’t know clubs like that existed,” I said.
“It’s the only club like that in the city. It’s been there for over twenty years. I’m glad you stumbled in,” she said, taking hold of my chin and turning my face to her. “You have trouble looking at me, don’t you?”
“I’m just nervous.”
“Don’t be,” she said, leaning in to kiss me.
I eagerly kissed her back, taking her soft, lower lip into my mouth.
“I was hoping I’d have the chance to kiss you again,” she said, sweeping me into her arms.
I held on to her and looked over at the open door of the bedroom a few feet away. All I could make out was a corner of the bed. I didn’t want to end up there. I couldn’t. I told myself I would leave before it happened. But her long fingers went to work unbuttoning my blouse and then caressing my breasts. All I could do was sit there as she slipped them out of my bra and began to suck them. I couldn’t leave and didn’t want to. After a while I reached for her shirt, and undid the buttons. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I gazed at the deep purple of her nipples, in such stark contrast to the rest of her body.
“My god,” I said, running my knuckles across them. “Have they always been this color?”
“Yes, it’s their natural color,” she said sounding amused.
I leaned over and kissed them. Soon I was kissing every inch of her. She lay back on the sofa, letting me. I’m lost, I kept thinking. I’m lost. Then she got up from the couch.
“Let’s go in here,” she said.
I looked again into the bedroom, not sure what to do next. She took my hand and led me in. She turned on the light, undressed and climbed on the bed. “Are you coming?” she asked.
I stood there trying to convince myself to leave. But the beauty of her body, naked and stretched to its full length across the bed, pulled me in. I undressed and climbed in beside her. I ran my hands over her body and retraced the trail with my mouth. I was inexperienced, but it didn’t matter. I wanted her. I saved the coarse patch of hair between her legs for last. I parted it with my tongue, and sought out the tender arrowhead of flesh. I sucked it hungrily, half expecting something or someone to come crashing in on us and stop me. But there were only her throaty whispers encouraging me with “Yes, oh yes,” and “Please…” as she spread her legs farther apart for me. Like a glutton I stayed there, lapping away at her until I’d exhausted myself and my chin was wet.
Full of energy, Lorraine wrapped her legs around my waist, and with one quick turn, flipped me over on my back, straddling me. “You waited long enough to call. I was waiting to hear from you.”
“I’m sorry,” I told her.
“No, you’re not,” she said, sliding off of me, then parting my legs with her knee and pushing her fingers inside of me. “I’d like to make you sorry for keeping me waiting. Giving me that half-assed dance, then running away like a child. I should have dragged you by the hair into one of those filthy stalls and made you take me like this,” she said, thrusting her fingers deeper, “Miss Standoffish.”
I closed my eyes as her long fingers moved inside of me. I struggled to contain my body’s response as my back and ass rose from the bed.
“Settle down and say you’re sorry,” she said, moving her fingers deeper and faster.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I shouted.