Free Slices of Life by Georgia Beers

The desk served as the perfect surface and the hostess’s black skirt made for easy access. Later in the evening, she cornered her bartender in the basement and fucked her roughly on a case of Captain Morgan. As her clientele began to trickle out the door and the hour slid toward closing time, the chef eyed two pretty young things at the bar and seriously wondered if she could charm her way into a ménage a trios.
    By the time Lindsay pulled her attention from her computer screen and returned to her own world, the sun was just about gone and the bedroom dimmed in the dusk. She blinked several times and rubbed at her scratchy eyes. She noticed the dampness in her panties at the exact same time she heard Cara’s key in the lock.
    “Oh, baby, timing is everything,” she whispered.
    In every way that Lindsay was edgy, Cara was not. With a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and a gentle smile on her face, she looked more like the girl next door than the partner of a lesbian sex writer, and she came through the front door with no clue as to Lindsay’s state of mind.
    “Linz?” she called as she tossed her keys on the table inside the door and flipped through the small stack of mail.
    “Right here,” Lindsay replied, knowing her proximity startled Cara, but Lindsay’s mouth was on hers before she could utter more than a surprised gasp.
    Envelopes and fliers fluttered to the floor as Cara gave in to the kiss. It was always like this, always a…melting during their first kiss before lovemaking. Cara was older, but Lindsay preferred to “drive,” as she liked to call it, and took the wheel every chance she could. Cara didn’t seem to mind.
    Two steps and Cara gave a small grunt as her back hit the door. Lindsay kissed across her chin and down her neck, talking as she went. “You look good enough to eat, baby,” she said, her voice throaty.
    “Yeah?” Cara breathed, hands in Lindsay’s hair.
    “Yeah. And that’s exactly what I plan on doing.” In one quick movement, she pulled Cara’s shirt up and over her head, tossed it to the hardwood, and cupped Cara’s small breasts through the purple lace bra Lindsay’d given her for her birthday.
    “Been writing, have we?” Cara’s chuckle turned to a groan as precise fingers closed on her nipples.
    “Yup. Lucky you.”
    They made their way slowly to the small bedroom, dropping articles of clothing as they went. Lindsay’s shirt, Cara’s pants, Cara’s bra, Lindsay’s socks. This kamikaze lovemaking used to bother Cara when they first became exclusive. She told Lindsay she didn’t like the fact that Lindsay would be writing about some fictional characters she made up, then want to have sex with Cara soon after. Initially, she found it almost insulting, like Lindsay wasn’t really thinking about her, but about the people she’d created. It took many in-depth conversations and countless reassurances, but Lindsay believed that Cara finally understood. Just because the writing got her juices flowing, that didn’t mean Cara was some stand-in for who she really wanted to be with. It was nothing like that. In fact, it was far simpler—she was turned on and the only one she wanted to share that with was Cara.
    Lindsay was young, but liked to think she was wise beyond her years when it came to making love to a woman. In her line of work, research and experimentation were key, and she was a very quick study. It made no sense to her for a writer of lesbian erotica not to be well-versed in the female form, how to read her, and how to please her. So she paid very close attention to everything she did to Cara and every reaction Cara had, good or bad. She knew when to take things slower (Cara’s kisses weren’t as deep). She knew when Cara wanted it fast and hard (Cara’s pupils dilated and she fisted Lindsay’s shirt in her hands). She knew when to relinquish the reins (Cara started on Lindsay’s shirt before Lindsay could get to hers). And she knew when to take