Best Lesbian Erotica 2010

JUBILEE Betty Blue

“Sing O daughter of Zion. Shout O Israel, be glad!”

Ruby sang harmony as the choir led the congregation in a lively rendition of the hymn, raising the spirit with up-tempo clapping. It was sweltering under the big tent, and they had been leading the worship for over an hour, but nobody was tired, nobody was sitting down, and nobody was going home. They had come to hear Reverend Goodblood. He had been here at the fairgrounds in St. Johns leading the Jubilee for six days, and he was just getting them warmed up. Cyril Goodblood wasn’t a healer or a prophet; he was just an honest preacher who had listened to that still, small voice, and wanted to share it with the world. In his touch, just the same, there seemed to be a kind of inner healing, and the ladies of the flock were particularly drawn to it.

She had driven every day of the Jubilee from her parents’ home in Eagar about an hour south to hear Reverend Goodblood. He spoke to the flock in a quiet voice, his silver hair parted on the side and greased back with Brylcreem and his sleeves rolled up above his elbows in the heat. He had a kind face with a long, prominent nose—aquiline was the word Ruby thought of, something she’d read in a romance novel once—and his wise and comforting eyes were the shade of a late summer storm coming in over the White Mountains.

She thought if she could just get down to the front of the altar this time when the reverend made the call, he might bless her with a little laying on of hands. She just needed a touch of the reverend’s grace to rub off on her, just a little prayer. There was trouble coming, and only the Good Lord could get her out of it.

Sydney watched the congregation from behind the staging area, waiting for her, eager for her. They were in love with her creation. The Reverend Cyril Goodblood had won them over and swept them away into an ecstatic religious experience. She didn’t care what they called her, as long as the money kept coming in for “the Lord’s work.” Tonight was the last night of the week-long Jubilee, and it was time for Cyril to bring it on home.

The local minister was introducing Cyril now, and people were nearly crying in anticipation. Sydney smoothed her hair down and tugged her pin-striped vest into place, making sure that Cyril looked the part, and with a wide grin, she came around the partition and thanked the minister, shaking his hand with a firm, two-handed grip. The congregation clapped enthusiastically as she stepped up to the wooden pulpit, and then perhaps realized that clapping was not the thing. Reverend Goodblood was a man of God, not a celebrity. The clapping quickly morphed into clasped hands and a chorus of soft thank-you-Jesuses and praise-the-Lords.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, Pastor John,” said Sydney. “It’s a blessing to be here before the beautiful family of God.”

Sydney preached as Cyril for a good three hours, watching the women fan themselves, red cheeked and glowing in the humid heat, and the men listening intently, unfazed by the sweat dripping down their good shirts.

In the third row, she caught the eye of Mrs. Edgar Ellison. Barbara “Bobbi” Ellison was just on the plump side of pretty, the kind of girl you could get a good handful of. And when Bobbi had called on Reverend Cyril last night after the service, Sydney had done just that. It was easy to tell when a woman had come for the Goodblood touch. They blushed before they’d ever said a word, touching the reverend’s hand just a little too long, breathing a little too fast. There almost seemed to be a competition among the women that came to her services to see who could win the reverend’s favor. The ladies of Apache County seemed particularly hungry for closer communion.

Bobbi had asked the reverend to pray for her, and had gotten down on her knees, letting Sydney lay her hand against her forehead while she prayed for God’s will to be done in Bobbi’s life. It was then that Bobbi had grasped Sydney’s hand and begun to kiss it in profuse thanks, as if Sydney were the pope. Sydney had pulled back, sitting down in her chair by the dressing room mirror under the hot glow of the round white lights, and Bobbi had scrambled forward and parked herself between Sydney’s knees, reaching for her belt buckle. It seemed to be the first thing these provincial women went for, as if it was what they were used to. It was a sad commentary on the men they knew that they were all too eager to give head before they’d even gotten a kiss on the lips.

Sydney had pushed her hands away and pulled Bobbi up as she rose from the chair. Bobbi’s eyes grew wide as Sydney pushed her back and set her ample rear onto the dressing table. “Let me minister to you, Bobbi,” she’d whispered in her ear as she kissed the warm neck. Bobbi had sighed as Sydney kissed her way slowly down her throat, opening the buttons on Bobbi’s dress to kiss the tops of her breasts above the Maidenform bra. Bobbi needed just that little bit of extra support for full-figured gals. Sydney slipped her hand into the dress and popped the clasp at the back with practiced ease, letting the bra slide down Bobbi’s half covered arms and release her full figure.

Bobbi had gasped as Sydney pressed her mouth over one taut, pink nipple while pinching the other. Mr. Edgar Ellison apparently wasn’t much of a tit man. Bobbi was moaning and squirming as Sydney sucked the warm flesh into her mouth. It was clear it wasn’t going to take much to put her over the top. Sydney ran her right hand down Bobbi’s side to squeeze the soft swell of her ass against the table and then finished unbuttoning her without missing a beat at Bobbi’s breast. She laid the Sunday dress open and pulled the white panties down to her knees, slipping two fingers down between her parted legs into the warm hollow. Bobbi’s clit was swollen.

“Oh, Reverend,” Bobbi moaned as Sydney softly stroked the hood. Sydney moved her mouth to the other breast, holding it in her left hand so she could get her mouth around more. Bobbi giggled nervously and then shut up quickly with a soft little pant as Sydney’s fingers found their way between her wet lips and deep inside her. As Sydney suspected, she was already on the edge, sucking in her breath in a series of tiny gasps as Sydney stroked inside her and rubbed her thumb against the warm clit.

Sydney let go of Bobbi’s breast and got down on her knees like a penitent at the altar and tasted the sacred flesh between the woman’s legs. Bobbi was loud now, and it was a good thing the elders had all gone home before Sydney had let Bobbi in for counseling. She ran her tongue beside her sticky fingers and sucked at the flushed center. Bobbi was sweet and hot, like a tropical fruit. It was like burying your face in a ripe, slick mango on a hot summer day without worrying about the juice dribbling down your chin. Some things were just too good not to be messy about.

Bobbi let out an almost surprised squeal, making a “joyful noise” as the scripture bid, and slid to the edge of the table, pressing hard against Sydney’s happy, sticky tongue. Sydney sucked in harder against Bobbi’s clit as the noise died down, drawing a second climax out of her. From the way Bobbi was shaking, almost crying, Sydney figured one was at least a rarity with Mr. Ellison, and two was downright unheard of.

Bobbi was shy afterward, and a little shocked when Sydney kissed her, as though she’d never tasted herself before, though she didn’t pull away. Sydney pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned herself off as Bobbi pulled herself back together, hooking and buttoning what Sydney had released.

“Reverend,” she said, looking down as she buttoned to avoid meeting Sydney’s eyes, “I know we shouldn’t have—”

“Nonsense,” said Sydney. “As the Lord says, ‘This is my commandment, that you love one another, that your joy may be full.’ He doesn’t begrudge us a little joy. If those in our lives who ought to aren’t ministering to our needs, well, I think the Lord understands.” She smiled and took Bobbi’s hand to give it a warm, pastorly shake.

“Thank you, Reverend Goodblood,” Bobbi had whispered, and slipped out into the warm summer night air to go home full of the joy of the Lord.

Sydney winked at Bobbi who was watching her now with rapt attention from the third row, and Bobbi smiled and blushed. After that she seemed to squirm a bit in her seat as Sydney paced back and forth across the stage, exhorting them to open their hearts and listen to that still, small voice, to give that they might receive.

As usual, when Reverend Cyril called on them to come down and dedicate their lives to the Good Lord, the aisles filled. With filled aisles came filled donation buckets that the elders held out to them on their way to the altar.

They were holding their hands out toward Sydney, hoping for Reverend Goodblood’s blessed touch as Sydney stepped down and walked among them. A pretty blonde with a heart-shaped face and a rose-print dress was making her way down, looking anxious, not quite able to push through the crowd. Sydney had seen her at the altar before, hoping for a touch from the man of God. She figured she’d make the woman’s day.

“What’s your name, sister?” Sydney asked in Cyril’s best shepherd’s voice as she reached over the crowd for her hand.

“Ruby,” said the blonde, her face flushed.

“Bless you, Ruby,” said Sydney, putting a hand on her head. “The Lord told me you needed a little something extra today.”

Ruby blinked up at Sydney as if she were the Lord himself. “Thank you, Reverend,” she breathed. “I’ve been hoping I could talk to you after the service.”

Sydney smiled at her. “You come around back after the closing worship,” said Sydney. “Share what’s burdening your heart.”

The counseling room behind the stage was partitioned in two. A door in between opened onto Reverend Goodblood’s dressing room where Cyril was “reborn” each afternoon. Sydney had grown up around carnies and religious snake-oil salesmen, and had watched them carefully, learning their moves, seeing what worked and what didn’t. She was following in her father’s footsteps.

He had been a revival preacher when the occasion called for it, and the rube in the crowd for carnival games when more worldly entertainment was the order of the day. Kegan Blood-good had been the name of his spiritual persona, and Sydney had admired the way he could work a crowd, but it was how he had been able to charm any woman anywhere that had always impressed her. Kegan never took advantage of them; he only brought out in them what they were aching to express, giving them a little spiritual guidance with a touch of sin thrown in. The money was a pleasant bonus.

Reverend Cyril wasn’t quite so cynical, but sometimes, well… the Lord worked in mysterious ways.

Ruby looked in shyly at Sydney sitting before the dressing table as she wiped off the stage makeup that was necessary under the hot lights of the big tent. Sydney smiled and welcomed her in, evaluating her quickly. She looked about twenty-five, petite and bright-eyed, a natural strawberry blonde with a palely freckled cream complexion. A slight discoloration showed beneath her left eye, the sallow shadow of a fading bruise. Some of the small-town good Christian brethren seemed to take St. Paul’s instructions about a wife’s subjugation to her husband a tad too much to heart.

“Come on in, sister,” said Sydney. “Close the door. I was just freshening up.” She waited until Ruby had settled herself on the chair beside her and sat looking down at her hands. “What’s troubling you?” she asked.

“I need a new start, Reverend,” she said, a soft twang in her voice quavering. “I’ve done some bad things and now I’m reaping what I sowed.”

Sydney took her nervous hands and looked Ruby in the eyes, calming her with the famed Reverend Goodblood look. “We all do things we shouldn’t, Ruby. There’s never anybody left standing to cast the first stone.” She rubbed her thumbs gently against the bones in Ruby’s hands. “Or the first punch.” Ruby’s lip was trembling. Sydney had always been a good reader of faces. “Is someone hurting you, Ruby?” she asked quietly. Ruby burst into tears.

Sydney slipped out of her chair and crouched down beside the weeping woman, stroking her arm. “You’re safe here, Ruby. You can tell me anything. It’s between you and me. And God.”

“I try to be a good wife,” said Ruby, wringing her hands. “I try to obey.” She looked up, searching Sydney’s eyes. “But Billy—that’s my husband—he don’t touch me anymore.” Her cheeks burned pinker than the roses on her dress.

Sydney found herself getting angry on Ruby’s behalf. “Unless it’s with his fists, you mean.” Ruby looked down at her lap. “It’s not right for him to do that, Ruby,” she insisted. “God wouldn’t want you to stay with a man like that.”

Ruby looked up at her, her eyes glistening with something like hope. “That’s what I thought,” she said. “But I’m afraid he’ll come after me. Will you pray with me, Reverend Cyril?”

Sydney and Ruby knelt side by side as Sydney took her hand and asked for God’s guidance. She was actually sincere this time, wishing there was something she could do to help the woman. She had completely set aside the possibility of a little “gladdening” of her heart when Ruby let go of her hand and began to slide her own along Sydney’s thigh. Sydney tried to take her hand again, but Ruby was insistent. She nearly managed to grab Sydney between the legs before Sydney grasped her hand and stopped her.

“I’m sorry,” Ruby said, her face red. “It’s just… I’ve been watching you all week, Reverend, and you’re so good and kind. Maybe it’s the joy of the Lord, but you make me feel glad and full of… spirit… and it’s been so long since Billy…” Ruby began to cry into her hands, and Sydney pulled her against her shoulder, patting her back as she wept as if she hadn’t in years, holding it all in, trying to be good.

At last Ruby quieted and leaned against her, and Sydney gave her the handkerchief from her pocket to dry her eyes. Ruby gave the sweet-smelling cloth a curious look as she folded it damp in her hands. She looked up at Sydney, her face anxious and sad.

“Reverend Goodblood,” she whispered. “I’m so alone.”

Sydney tucked her soft curls behind one ear and touched her cheek. Perhaps this one really did need Cyril Goodblood’s ministrations. Perhaps it was Sydney’s mission, maybe even a true gift from God. She swore she didn’t seek these women out. She kissed Ruby lightly and Ruby responded, running her fingers through Sydney’s slick hair to hold her closer as she explored her mouth with a kind of desperate, pleading whimper.

Ruby put her hand once more on Sydney’s thigh, and Sydney took her hand and began to press her slowly back onto the ground. “Let me minister to you, Ruby,” she whispered. Ruby pulled her dress over her head and tossed it aside, shivering as Sydney kissed her throat and the warm hollow of her collarbone. She kept grabbing for Sydney, and so Sydney took both her wrists in her left hand and held her arms over her head.

She pushed Ruby’s bra up over her small teacup breasts and straddled her, leaning down to taste them. Ruby’s chest rose, her breath quickening, and she closed her eyes.

“Your skin is so soft,” Sydney murmured against her, wriggling her free hand into Ruby’s panties. Ruby arched beneath her fingers, sighing deeply as if it had truly been forever since she’d been touched, and thrust herself up to meet Sydney’s long fingers as she entered her. She was rocking against Sydney frantically, and Sydney obliged her need, pumping her fingers inside her pussy as Ruby grew rapidly wetter. Ruby groaned appreciatively, bucking against her strokes.

“Oh, yes, Reverend,” she breathed. “Yes. Right there. Oh, God.”

Ruby bent her knees, drawing Sydney deeper as she lifted her pelvis, and began to moan in sharp, short bursts with the rhythm of Sydney’s fingers.

“Oh, yes! Oh, God!” she cried, and she was jerking and arching beneath Sydney, her thighs shaking with a thunderous swell. A gush of liquid covered Sydney’s hand as Ruby cried out, spurting like a warm, sweet fountain with the contractions of her hot cunt. Sydney let go of her wrists and wriggled down along the carpet to get her mouth against that fountain of power. Ruby came again: “Yes! Yes! Oh, God! Oh, God!”

Sydney slipped her left hand into her slacks and fucked herself with it as she fucked Ruby with her right, never wavering in her attention to Ruby’s glistening, rose-pink flesh, and she came with a shout and a groan as Ruby ejaculated once more, moaning beneath her. Sydney ran her tongue against Ruby’s exhausted pussy as she drew her fingers out of both of them, drinking the fluid that trickled off of her. Ruby moaned softly, her whole body collapsed in utter relaxation against the carpet, and her freckled cheeks pleasantly flushed.

“Oh, Reverend,” she breathed with her eyes closed as if in prayer. “God has truly sent you.”

When Ruby was dressed and her spirit collected, she seemed to slip back into a bittersweet sadness once more as if remembering what she’d come for.

“I don’t know how I can leave him,” she said. “I have nothing. He owns everything. I don’t even have a checking account.” She sighed. “Maybe this is God’s will. A test that I’m supposed to endure to prove that I won’t deny him when things are dark.”

Sydney glanced over at the bag from the week’s donations, tucked beneath the dressing table. If there was ever a time when she could truly bring some joy to someone’s life who so desperately deserved it, it was now. She nudged the bag out with her foot and looked at Ruby.

“Sweetheart,” said Sydney. “I want you to take this. It’s God’s money and I think he wants you to have it. You take it, and get out of this place, get away from Billy. He’s bad news and you deserve better.”

Ruby gasped as Sydney opened the satchel stuffed with bills. “Oh, I couldn’t, Reverend Goodblood!”

“Yes you can, Ruby. I won’t take no for answer.” She zipped it up and pushed it into Ruby’s hands.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Reverend Goodblood,” said Ruby with tears in her eyes. “You’ve saved my life. Bless you.” She kissed Sydney on the cheek and shook her hand. “I won’t forget this.”

Sydney was sure she wouldn’t either. It was worth the whole week of performing just to see the gratefulness and happiness in Ruby’s eyes. She saw her out and then packed up to leave and move on to the next town. She’d be starting from scratch, and would have to do a longer tour than she’d anticipated, but this was right. She’d actually saved someone for the first time in her “ministry.”

As she walked out into the parking lot, she saw a cop car circling slowly, shining a bright light on the tent and the fairgrounds.

“Can I help you fellows?” she asked as they pulled up beside her.

“Only if you’ve seen this woman,” said the cop in the passenger seat. He held out a printout of a mug shot and Sydney bit the inside of her cheek. It was Ruby. Only her name wasn’t Ruby, it was Lisa Swanson, aka Laurie Swanson, aka Lilly Swift and she was wanted for swindling unsuspecting older men out of their life savings. Sydney shook her head.

“Sorry, officer. I’ve seen a lot of people at the Jubilee this week. Don’t recognize her.”

Sydney watched them drive away and then lifted her head to the humid summer night sky. She put her hands on her knees and swore long and loud at the clouds that had refused to release their bounty all through the long, sweaty week. She looked down at the wanted flier she still held in her hand, “Ruby” smiling up at her.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another,” she murmured.

The clouds burst suddenly, pouring down on her and on Ruby’s crooked smile on the paper as the monsoons finally came to the mountains. Sydney was instantly soaked to the skin.

She sighed and dropped the soggy flier into the water swelling at her feet. “Well, dammit,” she said. “Jesus H. Christ.”