Excerpts from
18th & Castro
© Karin Kallmaker, 2006
No portion of
this work may be reproduced by any means
without express written consent of the publisher.
From “Human Female Pon Farr”
“Well, honey, I’d like to make it fun.” Tate dangled the handcuffs suggestively.
Jax sighed. So she was a walking nerve, and her body felt as if she would never get enough attention in all the right places. It was Halloween, and they’d both gone to a lot of trouble with their costumes. Why not get it over with so they could go out?
Her inner critic announced that a “get it over with” mindset was a guarantee that whatever they did, she’d be unsatisfied with the result. God, she hated these hormones.
She tried to improve her attitude. “Since when does Seven handcuff Janeway to anything? Janeway is the top.”
Tate ran a hand over her foam-molded front. “Dream on!”
“She’s the captain. By definition.” Jax tossed her red hair for emphasis.
“Well, she can’t be in control all the time.”
“Pardon me, but a starship captain can be a top one hundred and fifty percent of the time. They have special training.”
Tate, who’d already put on her Starfleet regulation boots, reached for one of Jax’s wrists. “Okay, consider this training. Just in case dear Captain Janeway should find herself captured by Seven-of-Nine clones with a bed-shaped tractor beam.”
From “Nine-Inch Nails”
The night air was sharp and cool, and the street was thick with revelers. Catcalls, cheers, music—it was one long, boisterous cacophony. The windows of most of the surrounding buildings were filled with spectators, some of whom threw Mardi Gras beads. I flashed and scored a slew of purple even though I was just in jeans and a black Tee. They were all girlie-girls, and my extra short hair and lack of bra was apparently to their liking.
I caught sight of the Satanic Leprechauns again, as well as the gangster who’d fled the café. She was occupied in a doorway in deep conversation with the floozy who’d followed her out the door.
It must have been
I wandered for another hour, joining in with some group body-bouncing a couple of times, then I headed for home. Even in the lobby I could hear the party in 1A at full blast. I couldn’t pass the second floor without thinking about the poor women in 2D. One of them had died in the line of duty last year—what a shock that had been. As I reached the third floor I thought maybe I’d get Keri and bring her down, but it would depend on how she was feeling.
“Hey, honey. How’s the crowd tonight?” Keri turned her head as I entered, looking relaxed and pleased to see me.
From “Borrowed Plumage”
Ace performed introductions, made several suggestive leers, then hurried away to answer the door. She heartily embraced a scantily clad black cat and high-fived a diddy-bopping James Dean. The cat’s skirt was short enough to reveal the tops of her fish net stockings.
“And I thought the leather was uncomfortable.” Carmen tried not to feel the trickle of sweat running down her spine.
“She looks like that outfit is a second skin. I was never that much of a girl,” Joyce admitted. “Though it looks great on you, why don’t you take that jacket off?”
“I can’t. I mean, it’s not that kind of party.” She glanced down meaningfully at her chest.
“Oh, I didn’t realize.” Joyce ran a lazy hand through tousled blond curls, and Carmen became aware of her soft drawl. “I’m sure somewhere in the Castro tonight there is that kind of party.”
“Then I’d feel about as out of place as I do in these clothes.” Carmen sipped her beer, trying to decide if she thought Joyce was interesting or not. She had a very pretty smile and a silky voice.
Waving a hand at her own gypsy outfit, Joyce said, “I’m not exactly a gypsy type either, but it was cheap.”
Carmen laughed. “This is all borrowed too. How are you not a gypsy type?”
“Oh, I’m too boring. My friends
complain I’m harder to get out of my apartment than kudzu out of a
“I know what you mean.” Carmen sipped her beer and found it easier to look Joyce in the eye. “So you’re a nurse, like Ace?”
“I never wanted to be anything else. What do you do?”
“Computer geek.”
They chatted for a while about Ace, then the pros and cons of their jobs, and Carmen was surprised to find herself enjoying the banter. When a trickle of sweat finally broke free of her hairline, she mopped at it, certain it was unattractive. “I suppose I could go home and change.”
Joyce looked alarmed. “You’ll come back, won’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m just down the hall, kitty-cornered. On the other side of the vacant apartment.”
“Oh, good. I’m dreadful at parties and it’s nice to find someone fun to talk to.”
“Me, too, yes, I mean.” She found herself studying Joyce’s brown eyes and the continuing rise in her body temperature wasn’t all due to the leather. She was suddenly aware that Joyce was studying her as well, and Carmen couldn’t stop staring at Joyce’s mouth.
Joyce said abruptly, “I’m sorry, I have a thing about leather. I don’t suppose you’d let me wear the jacket.”
“I really can’t take it off here.” Goodness, Joyce’s lips were what she was sure some poet would term kissable.
Joyce gave a little start, then blushed. “No, I suppose not.”
Carmen toyed with the snaps on the sleeves. If she really were a leather dyke, wouldn’t she be inviting Joyce back to her place to wear the jacket? But she wasn’t. It wasn’t her at all. “You could try it on at my place.”
Her lips parted, Joyce breathed out, “I could.”
What
did I just do? Carmen put her beer down, hoping her shaking hands didn’t
show. “We’ll be right back,” she said to
“I have a leather fetish and Carmen is going to let me play with her jacket.”
“Well, that’s a new one,”
In the hallway Joyce whispered,
“According to Ace there isn’t much
“Ace is a braggart of the first order. They’re as vanilla as I am,” Carmen said over her shoulder. At the top of the stairs she sidestepped a stocky woman in street clothes who obviously wore more under her jeans that her boxers. She carried a small overnight bag that seemed heavier than it looked as she continued up the stairs to the second floor. A second glance jostled Carmen’s memory—Carrie? No, Claire. Claire had lived upstairs for a while with Jeneen, but a year or so ago Terra had moved in and Carmen hadn’t seen Claire since. Carmen wondered, for just a moment, if Terra knew Jeneen’s ex was dropping by, dressed for action.
Not that it was any of her business, she told herself. She unlocked her door, flipped on the lights and stepped back to let Joyce in. She felt a little faint.
Joyce waited until they were standing awkwardly in the little space behind the closed door to say, “Looking at you in that outfit, it’s hard to believe you’re vanilla.”
She’s taller than I am, was all Carmen could think. She’d never kissed anyone taller than she was, though why she was focusing on that was beyond her. Joyce would think she was daft. “It’s not like I’ve had a lot of practice lately.”
“Me neither.”
The silence that fell tingled all around Carmen’s ears.
“So…” Joyce finally said.
“The jacket.” What you ought to do, Carmen told herself, is go into the bedroom and take it off. Put on a ratty old T-shirt, a chastity belt, and bring the jacket out to her. “Do you want to take it off me?”
“God…” The sharply indrawn breath made Carmen even more aware of Joyce’s curvy, tanned bare shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Shock and raw lust spun in her head as Carmen watched Joyce’s fingers close on the zipper pull. For a moment she thought she heard her upstairs neighbors going at it again, but realized it was her fantasy of the sounds she wanted to make with Joyce, right now.
Maybe she really liked leather after all.
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18th & Castro is a collection of
inter-related lesbian erotica short stories, by Karin Kallmaker.
Available from:
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