Cherry Red.

I took part in a writing contest over on Alison Tyler’s blog. She’s amazing, you should check her out. I didn’t win, but I made a strong showing for second, so that makes me pretty happy.

The contest asked for 500 words of fucking. Here’s my entry;

Cherry Red.

Fuck.

Leni wasn’t sure if she said it out loud, or only thought it, when her back slammed into the wall and the air rushed out of her lungs. Three fingers, quickly becoming four, pressed into her almost without preamble.

She’d known the tattooed bartender would be a firecracker, but still hadn’t been prepared for this. Once the dam had broken after an evening of dancing around each other, once they finally began to touch, they’d unleashed something beyond of both of their control.

Leni didn’t even know her name. The bartender had told her, but it had been loud and Leni hadn’t caught what she’d said. She couldn’t ask now.

The bartender’s hair was so black it shone green in the light, like a beetle, and was cut with choppy bangs that framed her face. It was one of the first things Leni had noticed about her when she’d walked into the bar, that and her bright red fuck-me lipstick.

The lipstick that was being smeared into the skin of Leni’s throat as the bartender sucked and bit at her, as if to eat her alive. She found an especially sensitive spot beneath the bolt of her jaw and Leni moaned, a deep, resonating sound that filled the small space they were in. The bartender took that for the encouragement it was and pressed her narrow frame closer to Leni’s body, leaving barely enough room for her hand to work between them.

She slid her fingers in and out of Leni’s body more forcefully, jarring her with each thrust, and making her go weak in the knees when her thumb finally found Leni’s swollen clit and began to rub. Leni threw her arms around the other woman, hoping for little more than to hold on for the ride.

“So fucking hot,” the bartender whispered into her ear when she took a break from trying to devour Leni’s neck.

“Uughh,” Leni responded inelegantly, her whole body beginning to convulse as she was overwhelmed with waves of sensation. Leni dug her fingers into the bartender’s back, her thin white tank providing little protection against Leni’s nails. But Leni was far beyond caring about leaving marks. This woman was taking her apart from the inside out, finding all her buttons on the first try. No one had ever been confidant enough to be this rough with her, Leni was hooked and knew other lovers were going to fall short by comparison.

As Leni’s contractions subsided the bartender pulled her hand free and wiped it against her own jeans. Leni followed the bartender back into public area and watched as she took her station once again and immediately started making Leni another whiskey sour. She dropped a cherry into the drink and handed it to Leni, her fingers still glistening. Leni pulled the cherry out of the drink and popped it in her mouth, it tasted like her.