Best Lesbian Erotica 2007 (17 page)

Yet even as I lay there dramatically on my back with my hand across my forehead, I knew I would do it. How could I not? I hadn’t seen most of my other friends much in the last year, unless they came out with me and Brenda, and had let my online profiles languish into oblivion. I wanted Brenda, Brenda, Brenda, and no one else. If this was how I was going to get her, then I’d just have to do things her way. I fell asleep and had dreams of flames licking the walls of my bedroom while I had my face buried inside Brenda, but I didn’t wake up scared so much as energized. I was really going to do this,
and suddenly, I felt a little bit more powerful, a little cooler—I was going to eat fire.

The first thing I did was go online and read as much as I could about the topic. I’d seen someone do it once at a circus, and the flames had been extinguished almost immediately upon entering the performer’s mouth. He’d opened wide like he was eating a s’more, not something that could obliterate his whole face. I wondered whether I could do it—both swallow the flame and make it look effortless. But I knew I’d try, because I’m never one to back down from a challenge, and I
had
said I’d do anything. This feat almost seemed even more exciting than the chance to sleep with Brenda—
almost.

I asked my best friend, Courtney, who’d run away with the circus when she turned eighteen and done a yearlong stint as a clown, mime and general overall trickster, to help me practice. First, we went out shopping. I thought I had plenty of sexy bras and undies in my drawer, but our trip proved me wrong. Courtney took me to a few shops frequented by strippers where every single item was more flamboyant than even my most risqué outfit or undies. We settled on a plush maroon bra with tassels hanging down below, the kind that made you want to pet it as much as you did my pushed-together breasts—whoever you were. As soon as I saw my cleavage in it, my breasts seeming twice their normal size yet supported by the sturdy material, I knew I had to have it, along with the matching thong. I found some maroon fishnets and tall, shiny black heels to complete the look. I turned this way and that in the mirror, admiring my own ass, sure that I was halfway there.

Now for the hard part. Courtney patiently watched as I made many attempts, chickening out before the flames got anywhere near my lips. I’d always thought there were some things you couldn’t simply learn by reading about, fire eating being one of them, so I was also going to learn in the tried and true way—trial and error. I envisioned my mouth moistening around the flame, putting it out in one smooth shot, as the instructions commanded. The torch looked scary once I’d lit it, but I thought of it like my old pet snake, Zilly, who everyone else in junior high had been petrified of, but I’d spent hours sitting around the house with him happily coiled around me. It had been a learning process, but one that made me a better person.

When I wasn’t envisioning the flame roaring out from between my lips, I was picturing Brenda, with her tumbles of hair and searing gaze. My fantasies could only go so far because I didn’t know what she looked like naked or even what she was really like in bed, so I just focused on her presence; on her stretched out next to me in my queen-size bed, her red hair splayed across my black sheets. Even though I had to focus immensely on what I was doing—holding the torch high above my head, then tilting it upside down, tipping my head back, arching my long tongue out and dipping the wick between my open lips before wrapping them around it to cut off the oxygen supply—somewhere, hovering over everything else, was Brenda. The flame became an extension of her fieriness, her red hair, her laugh—except those were things I didn’t want to extinguish.

Keeping my new hobby a secret was pretty easy after I’d made the mistake of telling another friend, Deb. “You WHAT?” she shrieked, then demanded to know every detail, grilling and admonishing me until I felt myself start to doubt my mission.

“Can we change the subject?” I finally asked, my heart beating faster than it had holding that first torch. I was getting better, and under Courtney’s steady guidance and patient waiting, I’d even attempted my whole routine, music, fringed bra, fire and all, once. I needed practice, and needed to move faster and steadier, not showing an ounce of the fear lurking below the surface. The fire should reflect my beautifully made-up eyes, my bravery, my tongue boldly going where few had gone before. I knew that Brenda wouldn’t be able to resist me, even if she hadn’t made this stupid challenge herself. I’d been working out, too, honing and sculpting my body until it looked exactly how I wanted, until I was strong enough that I could literally lift Brenda up and carry her around my apartment if I’d wanted to.

The big day finally arrived. Trying to calm my nerves, I made my way through the theatre to join the other burlesque contestants backstage. I’d attended many shows here, but never thought I’d be the one to take the stage. This time, my audience would be much bigger than simply Courtney in my living room. I peeked out from backstage through the mascara haze, hardly able to stand the jitters and energy coming from the other girls, and smiled to see Brenda shining up front in an elegant black wrap dress and mother of pearl necklace that made her simply sparkle. She outclassed everyone else in the theatre. I stepped back behind the curtain, running my hands over my bra, down the very small curve of my belly, along my ass. I knew I looked good, and I shut my eyes for a moment, picturing my moment of victory. No, not the flame sliding between my elegantly parted lips. The real one, when Brenda walked out with her arm linked in mine, the two of us the belles of this wacky, downtown ball.

I listened as the crowd hooted and hollered for the other performers, snuck glances as the contestants shook and shimmied to everything from classics to punk rock to R&B, from love songs to “fuck you” songs. And then it was my turn. At first, I’d wanted something slow and sensual, something I could dance and writhe around to, but the more I’d thought about it, the more I’d wanted a song that was in-your-face, the kind of song best illuminated by disco balls and dazzling flame. I wouldn’t need to move fast as I’d have a stick of fire burning before me. I’d rummaged through my CD collection and found a classic from my early twenties—“Nightlife,” by Kenickie, a wonderfully girlie British bit of power pop crossed with just the hint of snarling brattiness I wanted. Plus it was short, which was good because I didn’t know how long I could pull off my bravado. But the element I’d missed in my practice sessions was the cheering crowd. Even if all I did was hold the glowing torch above me and look pretty, they’d be won over. Even Brenda, I soon realized, as my flame reflected her beaming smile, her usually been-there-done-that attitude gone in a swarm of pride for me. I soaked it in, loving every second as I played with the fringe, used the stick to emphasize the loud girl shouts, then got ready for the moment of truth.

I stretched it out as long as I could, crossing my legs, one against the other for support, then tilted my head back, grateful for the expertly coiled bun Courtney had fashioned my hair into, and opened wide. I held the stick above me, then twirled it down in one move as I’d practiced. I opened my eyes to see the flame heading toward me, then closed them and visualized me and Brenda fucking through a blaze of fire, ready to burn for the thrill of touching each other’s bodies. The flame dove perfectly between my lips and I’d extinguished
it so quickly I almost didn’t notice my mouth touching the pole, then instantly opened my lips and pulled it out. There were a few more seconds of music that I let play on while I held the cooling stick in both hands above my head in victory, leaned forward and shook my tassels, then spun around to provide a view of my ass, and marched off. I sank into a chair immediately and stayed slumped there through the next two acts, relieved and grateful to have survived.

Finally, I was ready to head back out there. As the show wound down, I saw that a seat had somehow opened up next to Brenda. I slipped into it, and her hand immediately reached for mine, like we were some old couple. It wasn’t merely a friendly hand-holding either. Her fingers immediately started massaging mine, soothing me, calming me. “You were beautiful, darling,” she whispered in my ear, letting her lips hover there for just enough time to make my nipples bead against the heavy bra. She was telling me that tonight was the night, not simply because of a won bet or a technicality, but because she wanted it. Maybe she’d known exactly what she was doing all along with her incessant flirting, or maybe this time apart had made her think about me, and us. Whatever it was, I was grateful, and rested my head against her shoulder, breathing in her vanilla scent as she put her arm around me. We watched the rest of the performers. When it came time for the winners to be announced, Brenda clutched my hand tightly, almost smashing it when it was announced that I’d won second place. She gave me a huge kiss before ushering me onstage, and told me that I was robbed; knowing I was number one in her eyes was all I needed.

Then the time came to leave. I just put my long coat on over the bra and panty ensemble, too high off the night’s energy to change. People had been coming up to me all night congratulating me and asking questions, and for the very first time, I was the star instead of Brenda. She didn’t seem to mind though, but she did keep her hand clasped in mine, guarding off would-be suitors.

We strode out and walked the five blocks to my apartment. I’d stocked up on all kinds of sex toys, candles, and snacks, and had redone my bedroom, hanging gauzy pieces of fabric over the windows and lights, buying even finer, softer sheets—only the best for my girl. “Wait right here,” I told her, pushing her down onto the living room couch, giving her a brief peck on the lips, then racing around and lighting the many votive candles dotting my room until it glowed with a dusky light. When I went to fetch her, she had her eyes closed and I worried that she might be asleep. When I approached, she stirred, staring at me with lust and awe—the same way I’d been looking at her since we’d met. The look on her face told me that whatever had happened since she’d issued her ultimatum, she was here for the same reason I was—she wanted me just as much as I wanted her. Our first real kiss found my lips crushed against her heavenly ones, her surprisingly strong hands gripping me tight.

“You’re so beautiful,” we echoed each other, our fingers tracing each other’s faces. I still almost couldn’t believe that
my
Brenda was actually in bed with me. The pressures leading up to this night seemed to melt away, even though part of me knew I was still riding the adrenaline high of baring my body—and my bravado—in front of so many people. Still, in some ways, being so intimate with Brenda made me even more vulnerable, which is why I decided to take control.

“Now, my darling, I’ve been so patient waiting for you to
see the light, I think I deserve a little prize for all my hard work today—don’t you?” Before she could say yes or no, I’d fastened a blindfold over her eyes. Next I sucked on her earlobe, tugging the tender flesh between my teeth. I slipped a finger into her mouth, feeling her tongue instantly seek out its tip, sucking me deeper inside. Oh, yes, I had my sly little Brenda pegged all right—she was one of those tough-on-the-streets, submissive-slut-in-the-sheets kind of girls.

“Now you really look beautiful,” I told her, as I lifted her arms above her head, trapping them between fur-lined hand-cuffs. She moaned as I placed them around her, not making a single movement to escape. She wanted this, and from the throbbing in my pussy as I bound her wrists together, I realized that I did too. I’d known it, but I hadn’t really known what a rush I would get out of controlling my favorite little vixen. “Now I’m really going to heat things up,” I said, the sound of the match striking the matchbook echoing loudly against our ears. Just seeing the flame reminded me of what I’d done earlier, but whereas that had been all spectacle and sass, blaze and glory, this was a calmer fire, a private one. I lit a purple candle, transferring the heated glow and blowing out the match.

I took the candle and lazily trailed it along her skin, tipping it so the flame hovered several inches above her stomach, enough so she could feel its warmth. “Ow,” she giggled, a very un-Brenda-like sound yet one I longed to hear again. I let a drop of the wax collide with her belly, watching the purple pool against her pale skin. She whimpered, her body rippling as she angled away and then toward the flame, afraid to want more, even though she did.

“Hey, I did what you wanted today, you can take a little wax, can’t you?” I asked, smearing in the warm, gooey cream of it as she grinned at me. My other hand trailed down to her pussy, finding the trimmed red hairs there and tugging on them gently. I swept my fingers across her inner thighs, pushing my short nails along her delicate, pale skin. I wanted to be inside her so badly, but I knew I had to wait. I spread her legs, noting the moisture along her sweet lips, then took the candle and made lines going up and down her thighs. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, Brenda, you’ll be feeling it for days. Just as soon as I pour the wax from this candle all over you,” I said, my words making her shudder.

Watching the wax cover each new part of her, her body assimilating its heat quicker and quicker, made me proud. I watched as the liquid dribbled onto her; tested myself by aiming at certain spots, diving lower with the flame, then pulling upward as it arced all the way down. She thrust against her bonds, shifting slightly, but not enough to dislodge the blindfold. Her lips kept opening and then closing, yearning for something to taste, something to suck. When the candle was nearly done, I took pity on her, blowing it out and offering her the waxy, non-wicked end. My little slut took even that, though I only made her taste it for a moment, more a test of wills than anything else.

My fingers dove along her slit, parting her lips and entering her heated sex. “Oh, you’re ready all right,” I said as she drew me deeper inside. Whether or not she’d ever fucked or been fucked by another girl no longer mattered—she wanted me. I’d saved my favorite toy for last, and in mere moments, I had gotten naked and slid the cock into its harness. I mounted her, greedy to shove the fat dildo into her dripping hole. It was the biggest one they’d had at the store, but she took it like it was
nothing, like it was my finger, or the slim candle, and I rocked against her. I’d been planning to untie her, but the look on her face as her arms strained against the cuffs, her eyes shielded, her mouth seeking, was too precious. I thrust the cock in and out of her, watching its black surface emerge sleek and shiny, her juices coating it from the start. I was so horny I imagined I could feel her squeezing the dick, giving herself to me again and again, just as I’d given myself to her today. It was all worth it as the cock pressed against my clit while filling her completely, and I made sure to take her right to the edge, then pause. I peeled some of the pretty purple wax off her, but left most of it, then concentrated on pumping her fast and hard. Her nipples beckoned to me, and I heeded their call, twisting one as I balanced my other hand against the bed. She shuddered as I pinched her nub between my fingers; this new, needy creature before me not quite the girl I’d pursued so valiantly all these weeks, but someone hotter for showing me this new side. Eating fire was nothing compared to sinking my cock—myself—into Brenda, the moment purely ours as we joined together. I let my hand wander down to her clit, stroking her nub until she buckled, spasming against my touch, her body jerking all around. I lifted the blindfold so she could watch as I thrust into her a few final times before I too came, then collapsed on top of her, our sweaty bodies pasted together by wax and desire.