Burn, Baby: A Sapphic Six Pack

By Lisabet Sarai

Six-alarm lesbian lust.

Desire burns hot in these six sizzling tales by Lisabet Sarai. A high-powered executive and a Goth rocker collide on a rainy Manhattan night and succumb to the attraction of opposites. An unorthodox therapist rekindles the libido of a traumatized fire-fighter. A nun fights her forbidden lust for the voluptuous hooker resident at her women’s shelter. Burn, Baby includes many of Lisabet’s lesbian favorites as well as the searing, shocking new tale, “Countertransference”.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisabet Sarai
• Release date: Jun 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463292082

Lisabet Sarai

I became addicted to words at an early age. I began reading when I was four. I wrote my first story at five years old and my first poem at seven. Since then, I have written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – more than fifty single author titles including eight full length novels, plus dozens of short stories in various collections. My credits include contributions to the Lambda winner Where the Girls Are and the IPPIE Best Erotic Book of 2011, Carnal Machines. My gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012 Honorable Mention. I have also edited a number of acclaimed erotica anthologies. Currently I am responsible for the charity erotica imprint Coming Together Presents, which as of December 2014 has published six volumes by top erotic authors, supporting causes such as Amnesty International, Planned Parenthood, and the Multiple Sclerosis Association of America.I have more degrees than anyone would ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be deeply embarrassed by my chosen genre. Aside from writing, travel is one of my most fervent passions. I’ve visited every continent except Australia, though I still have a long bucket list of places I haven’t been. Currently I live in Southeast Asia with my indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where I pursues an alternative career that is completely unrelated to my creative writing.For more information about me and my writing, visit my website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or my blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com). Join my VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh I also hang out at Goodreads, (http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/83387.Lisabet_Sarai) because I love the idea of a social network focusing on the love of reading. I’m not on Facebook, because I don’t trust it.

Book preview

Burn, Baby: A Sapphic Six Pack

Lisabet Sarai

© Copyright 2018 Lisabet Sarai

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This book intended for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

Rush Hour first appeared in Where the Girls Are: Urban Lesbian Erotica, edited by D.L.King. Cleis Press, 2009.

Her Own Devices first appeared in Carnal Machines: Steampunk Erotica, edited by D.L. King, Cleis Press, 2011.

Sundae, Bloody Sundae first appeared in Coming Together: Girl on Girl, edited by Leigh Ellwood, EroticAnthology.com, 2013.

The First Stone first appeared in Forbidden Fruit: Tales of Unwise Lesbian Desire, edited by Cheyenne Blue, LadyLit Publishing, 2014.

Burn, Baby first appeared in Her Own Devices, LadyLit Publishing, 2015.

To Rebecca

Contents

Rush Hour

Her Own Devices

Countertransference

Sundae, Bloody Sundae

The First Stone

Burn, Baby

About the Author

Excerpt from The Witches of Gloucester

Rush Hour

Nothing is impossible, optimists will say. Have they ever tried to get a cab during rush hour? In the rain? I’d been standing on Fifth Avenue for twenty minutes, my briefcase clutched precariously under the same arm that held up my umbrella, waving at the taxis filing by in slow motion. Every one was full.

The clock was ticking. I was due at Cipriani in less than two hours to welcome the board of directors. I had to get home. A motorcycle roared through the streaming gutters, nearly knocking me over. A tsunami of dirty water rose to soak my pants. Thanks, buddy. Now I really had to get home.

I should have taken the subway. I didn’t want to ruin my suit in the rain, but that hardly mattered now. I was just about to give up and walk when I saw a cab with his light on, halfway up the block. Juggling briefcase, purse and umbrella, I scrambled through the crowd on the sidewalk. He might be my last chance.

He was stuck in traffic. I prayed that the signal didn’t change. Just as I reached him, a black-clad figure pushed past me and wrenched the door open.

Hey! That’s my cab!

No way, lady. I got here first. The girl grinned at me, pale makeup and purple lipstick giving her a ghoulish quality. She started to climb into the vehicle but I grabbed her sleeve.

I’m late. I need this cab. It’s terribly important. You can take the next one.

You think that I don’t have important places to go? She pulled her arm from my grasp, further stretching her already misshapen sweater. I’ve got rehearsal in half an hour. Now get out of my way.

She tried to elbow past me. Desperate, knowing I’d feel bad later, I snatched her shoulder bag and threw it on the sidewalk.

You bitch! As she ducked down to pick it up, I slid into the taxi. Before I could slam the door, though, she pushed in after me, jabbing me in the ribs with her umbrella. The door closed just as the traffic light turned green.

Where to, ladies? The cabbie was torn between annoyance and amusement.

Ow! 32nd and Lex, please. I could barely get the words out.

No, don’t listen to her. Houston, near Varick. Step on it!

Ignore her. I was in the cab first. If you don’t take me to Murray Hill immediately, I’ll report you.

A truck cut in front of us. The driver stomped on the brakes, hurling our bodies forward. The girl let out a wail as her forehead hit the plexiglass partition. I was smothered by sudden remorse.

Are you all right? Miss? She slumped down in the seat, looking dazed. A bruise was already reddening above her left eyebrow. Can you hear me? She nodded vaguely.

You should be wearing your seat belts, the driver commented. I fastened mine, then reached around the young woman’s slight figure to secure hers. From her drenched garments rose a funk of damp wool and marijuana. Multiple steel rings pierced her earlobes. On her pale neck, below her right ear, was a neatly etched tattoo of a skull. Under her shapeless sweater she wore a snug black V-necked jersey. Guilt tightened its grip on me when I realized I was admiring her cleavage.

I leaned toward the driver. Go ahead to Houston as she asked. She needs help.

No, that’s okay. Her voice quavered a bit. I’m all right. You can stop at 32nd first. I’ll be fine.

Are you sure?

Yeah, no problem. She fingered the swelling on her forehead. The band can wait. I’m the lead singer. They can’t start without me.

Look, I’m sorry about grabbing your bag. That was really rude.

She grinned, showing an even line of white teeth that contrasted with her livid mouth. Yeah, it was. Not what I’d expect from a fancy executive like you.

I really do want to apologize. I don’t know what came over me.

No sweat. Sometimes this city makes you crazy, right?

Right. We inched forward through the traffic. The rain had intensified. I could hardly see out the windshield. The side windows were obscured by steam. I was going to be late regardless. The CEO would crucify me.

I sneaked a glance at my fellow passenger. She leaned back, her eyes shut. The purpling egg on her forehead added to the impression that she had just climbed out of a dank grave. Mentally, I stripped off her extreme make-up. She’d actually be pretty without it, with her heart-shaped face and tiny nose. Her mouth was her best feature, a perfect bow, plump and kissable.

Right! I imagined my own lips smeared a horrible purple from tasting hers. Talk about an odd couple!

As if she felt my scrutiny, her eyes flew open. The irises were a startling lilac color, with concentric black circles. Contact lenses, I figured, but they gave her a look of unearthly intensity. I worried that she might read my lustful thoughts. I shifted nervously on the seat, my soaked trousers clinging uncomfortably to my calves. My panties were equally drenched.

She shrugged off her over-sized sweater. My eyes drifted to the snowy triangle of bare skin at her throat. I wrenched them back to focus on her face.

I’m Mina, she told me, after at least thirty seconds of awkward silence.

Ruth. Ruth Gladstone. Automatically I held out my hand. Her palm felt hot, not clammy as I had expected. She rubbed her thumb across the back of mine, stroking down to the sensitive area where it joined my wrist. No calluses.

I shivered. She noticed

Cold? When she grinned, I half expected to see fangs, but her smile was an orthodontist’s dream.

No, I’m fine. She still held my hand. Flustered, I pulled my fingers from her grasp and looked at my watch.

What are you late for?

Oh, nothing. It’s not important.

Mina took possession of my hand again. It was important enough that a sophisticated, civilized woman like you was ready to assault me to keep me from getting your cab!