Best Lesbian Erotica 2011

MOST VALUABLE PLAYER Nairne Holtz

When I turned thirty, I joined a lesbian basketball league, even though my experience playing team sports amounted to a few humiliating memories of being picked near the bottom for teams in junior high. In a dusty inner-city gym one Saturday night in September, I found myself surrounded by lean, nimble women dribbling and shooting baskets in organized lines. They were all wearing puffy sneakers and athletic shorts. From my wardrobe of mostly black dresses, I had managed to dig out a Marilyn Manson T-shirt, a pair of cutoffs and Converse sneakers. I was sitting on a bench wondering what I should do when a trim Asian woman with short hair tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hi there. I’m Nancy Chen, and I’m on the collective. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” She stuck her hand out.

“I’m Sky.” I grasped her hand. Her shake was quick and decisive. “This is my first time,” I told her.

“Good to meet you, Sky. Don’t worry, there’re always a few beginners.” Nancy touched a strand of my long purple and black hair. “Next time, put your hair back. And you’ll need to take out your earrings. You don’t want to have someone accidentally tear one out.”

I fingered the numerous silver hoops on my earlobes while she jogged off.

Nancy Chen wound up on my team. Her friends called her Chen, and she called them by their last names like they were boys in private school, which, given their gender and racial and ethnic diversity, was kind of hilarious. We did not have designated captains, because that was too undemocratic for lesbians, but unofficially, each team had a leader, a woman who, by virtue of her skill, would call the plays and decide on a lineup; Chen was that person on my team. Even though she was only five-six, she had played varsity basketball and was very good. When cornered, she would charge through taller players and sink baskets from pretty much anywhere on the court. She was also kind and encouraging to rookies. On my second night playing, someone fouled me, and I had a free throw. I stood with the ball clutched to my stomach, my mind in a state of despair, while my team and the opposing team crisscrossed into matching lines in front of me. The ref blew the whistle, and I wildly threw the ball. It narrowly missed the referee’s head. “Nice try!” Chen yelled.

Yeah, right. I was a total loser, and Chen had probably been a camp counsellor as a teenager. I was the weak link on the team, but neither she nor anyone else held it against me.

I wouldn’t have been so lucky if I had been on Cavaco’s team. Cavaco was a handsome blonde with some anger management issues. She constantly challenged the refs and socially excluded the women on her team who weren’t jocks. She liked to win, and her team often did. She usually played center. She ran fast and was an outstanding shot, but her real talent lay in rebounding. She swooped up for the ball like a seal, always catching it.

I can’t remember why I criticized Cavaco to Chen, but I do remember her response: “Guess you don’t think she’s hot?”

I shrugged. I was more attracted to Chen, but I had heard she had just gotten out of relationship and wasn’t looking for one.

“Everyone else does,” Chen continued.

“The problem is she knows it,” I said. If I had been more honest, I would have admitted I did find Cavaco hot. She was solidly built, all muscle, a fact she flaunted in ribbed T-shirts and tight, faded jeans. And she wore a black leather jacket and drove a motorbike. Any one of these factors was enough to make me swoon, but Cavaco didn’t seem to like femmes. The women she dated were butch and androgynous, and one evening in the locker room after a game she made it clear to me just how little respect she had for girly-girls.

I was one of two women in the league who wore bikini underwear; everyone else had on boxers or big, plain white underwear. I was also the only woman who bothered to put on makeup and perfume after a shower. Along with a few hair-gel queens that tended to include Chen, I was inevitably the last woman out of the locker room.

On the night of my conversation with Cavaco, I was standing in front of a mirror applying lipstick. Beside me, wearing only a towel, Chen was slicking the front of her hair back with mousse. In the mirror, I noticed Cavaco standing behind us, dressed and fidgeting. Her motorcycle helmet was tucked under her arm, and she seemed to be waiting for Chen, who asked me if I was a member of the Y.

“I thought I saw you there the other day,” Chen said.

“Must have been someone else.” I smudged my lips together. “Working out is so boring, and I hate having straight men hit on me, which always happens at gyms.”

Cavaco curled her lip. “It’s not like you look like a dyke.”

Later I thought of many replies, but at that moment I simply froze. Cavaco didn’t see me as femme, didn’t see herself as butch; she just thought she was an out-and-proud dyke, and I wasn’t. She would have been surprised to learn that I was as out in my life voluntarily as she was forced to be by virtue of her masculinity.

Chen rolled her eyes at me in the mirror. “People can be so stupid with their assumptions. This woman I work with once asked me if I didn’t wear makeup because I was a Christian. Can you believe it?”

I laughed.

Cavaco ignored me and growled at Chen. “Would you hurry up?”

Chen turned around and gave Cavaco a cheeky grin. Then she began to ever so slowly put the cap on her bottle of mousse. Cavaco picked up a wet towel someone had left behind on the floor and flicked it at Chen.

“You jerk.” Chen grabbed at the wet towel and as she did, the towel covering her body slipped, revealing her small breasts. I stared at her. She had a pretty body, and I wanted to throw her onto the floor and lick her pale nipples. Then I noticed Cavaco was also watching Chen with a predatory expression. That’s when I realized that they were involved with each other. I grabbed my makeup bag and slunk over to my locker.

Everyone else in the locker room had left, either to go home or to the bar. I slipped on my clothes, waiting for Chen and Cavaco to pass me on their way out. But they didn’t leave. What was taking them so long? As I laced up my boots, I heard a muffled moan. Were the two of them having sex in one of the bathroom stalls?

I knew I should leave, but I had to know. With my heart buffeting against my chest, I crept back to the mirrors where I found Chen naked, pinned by one of Cavaco’s sturdy muscular legs to the cool, damp tiles of the wall. Cavaco was fully dressed, and the two of them were kissing with the same fierceness they showed on the courts, dipping their whole heads into each other. I was totally jealous, but it also gave me a thrill. I stared, wondering why they hadn’t just slipped into a stall. When they noticed me watching, they immediately broke apart, their cheeks crimson.

“Sorry, I lost my mascara, but I don’t see it here,” I murmured. I scanned the sinks to make my lie seem authentic, observing Chen’s mousse tipped on its side next to Cavaco’s motorcycle helmet. With a swish of my long coat, I left them. Naturally, I practically collided with the wall in a failed attempt at nonchalance. When I got outside the gym, I walked quickly to the subway station.

On the subway ride home, I could not stop thinking about the two of them. I was hurt, because I had a crush on Chen, but I had been so turned on by watching them. I had seen Cavaco naked in the shower, so I could easily imagine them having sex: grappling with each other, their skin moist with sweat. Chen would surrender first. Cavaco would strap on a big silicone cock and place the tip of it into Chen’s liquid cunt. Then she would taunt Chen by taking the dildo out. She would fuck Chen slowly, agonizingly, until Chen would grab Cavaco by the shoulders and yell, “Make me come!” Cavaco would adjust her cock so the ring of her harness pressed against Chen’s clit, and she would fuck her until her cunt crested in orgasm.

That night in bed at home, I made myself come about five times replaying this scene in my head.

But the next morning I felt sad, because I really liked Chen. I knew I had to put aside my feelings for her. Three’s company is hot in fantasy, but in my experience, triangles too often took the isosceles form with the lines of desire being unequal. Besides, I enjoyed playing basketball and wanted to have a good time during the season. Wilting with jealousy would ruin my game. And I had one talent that Chen had pointed out to me: when I actually caught the ball, I knew how to hold on to it. When someone tried to grab the ball from me, they got a pointy elbow in the ribs.

The ensuing month on the league sped by, and in the final game, our team placed second overall in the playoffs, losing to Cavaco’s team. Neither Cavaco nor Chen got most of the baskets, which was unusual. Cavaco didn’t hog the ball for a change and let her teammates do the scoring. And Chen, generally so unflappable, couldn’t sink a thing. Fortunately, the rest of our team played together with perfect affinity. We played tough D, didn’t flub any passes and we all got baskets. I got an unheard-of three baskets. Despite Chen’s poor showing, after the game our team voted her our Most Valuable Player.

When I walked into the locker room to change, I felt like a winner, even though I was on a losing team. I was excited about going to celebrate at the bar. I took a long shower, dried my hair and put on fishnet stockings and a short red dress to wear with my Doc Martens. One woman asked if she could touch my stockings, and I let her, feeling like an exotic animal being petted. As usual, I was the last woman left in the locker room. I was about to leave when Chen stormed in and slumped down on the bench in front of the lockers.

I went over and touched her shoulder. “Hey.”

“Oh, hi, Sky. You were great tonight, three baskets, wow.” Chen gave me a grin that immediately dissolved.

“What’s up? I know we lost, but who cares? We had a great season. And you’re MVP.”

“That’s just it. I let everyone down.” Chen put her head in her hands. After a moment, she looked up at me. “I broke up with Cavaco last weekend. I felt so guilty about it that I lost my killer instinct. Then after the game, I found out she’s already seeing someone on her team.”

I sat down on the bench and put my arm around Chen’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

Chen sighed. “Cavaco’s the first lesbian I’ve dated. All of my girlfriends have been straight.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Chen shrugged and began to look a bit more self-assured. “I guess I like to take risks.”

“Take risks?” I slipped my arm away from Chen’s shoulders. “I call that playing safe.”

“Why are you yelling at me?” Chen asked.

I hadn’t realized I was, but I went ahead and told her the truth. “Because I’m interested in you and I have been for a while.”

There was this excruciating pause, and then we looked at each other and started kissing. We both got into it right away, gasping and breathing hard. Chen stopped kissing me to unzip my dress from the top of my neck to the small of my back. She stared at my breasts that were barely contained in a shiny, silver bra. “Lucky me!” She drew down the cups of my bra, leaned over and sucked my nipples until they were raw, red buds. Then she put her hand into my underwear.

She stated the obvious: “You’re so turned on.”

I was an active volcano. Chen was perhaps the most beautiful butch I had ever been with, and I had wanted her for ages. And she seemed to find me equally hot, even though I was bigger and taller. At any rate, she was soon on her knees and pulling down my stockings and underwear to eat me with gusto. She paused to ask if I preferred “circles or up-and-down strokes.”

I had to think about it for a moment: I had never had someone ask me for such specific instructions. “Up-and-down, right on my clit.”

Chen followed my suggestion perfectly. I suppose she was used to being coached. I was about to come when she abruptly withdrew her tongue.

“Not so fast,” she murmured.

I held off for a bit more exquisite torture before grabbing the short ends of her hair and coming in her face. She smeared her wet features against my large thighs.

“Your turn,” I said, as I struggled to pull my panties up and my dress down.

Chen looked a bit sheepish. “Don’t you think I should take a shower?”

I laughed. “I don’t want to wait that long.”

Chen picked up my hand and examined my fingernails, which had black polish but were cut short. I got the message; she wanted me to fuck her. When she let go of my hand, I pulled her sweaty T-shirt over her head and slid her gym shorts and boxers down to her ankles. She leaned back with her naked butt against a locker.

She was not big on foreplay. I licked the soft, salty surfaces of her body, but she kept whining for me to put my fingers in her, so I got on my knees and began to touch her. I slid my hand in up to my knuckles and began to fuck her. “Harder,” she insisted, until I was banging her butt against the wall. “That’s it, that’s my G-spot. Keep doing that.” She began to wail, and I was so intent on pleasing her that at first I didn’t realize we had an audience.

The expression on Cavaco’s face was one of horrified fascination. But she managed to sound composed when, with a jerk of her head, she called out to Chen. “Buddy.”

Chen opened her eyes, which had been screwed shut, and looked completely mortified. “Oh, my god.”

Cavaco said, “I came to see how you were doing. Someone said you were really upset, but it doesn’t look that way to me.”

My hand was still inside Chen, and I am afraid I did something rather wicked: I rubbed Chen’s G-spot. She gasped, and a bit of juice sprayed out of her onto my wrist. I looked over at Cavaco.

“Enjoy the show?” I asked her coolly.

“Yeah, I did,” she said, her voice cracking uncertainly. Then she turned on the heels of her motorcycle boots and left.

I withdrew my hand from Chen, who pulled up her boxers. Then she placed her hands on my cheeks and kissed me. “I think we should skip the party.”

I squeezed her hand. She was my girl now. Like Chen was always telling me, when I caught the ball, I knew how to hold on.