Best of the Best Lesbian Erotica by Tristan Taormino Page B

to her drinking buddies? Or was she just a sexual freak—attracted to neither men nor women? What made these women so uninspiring for her?
    Thinking about this—something she usually tried not to do—upset her, and she slammed the stall door, making the woman in front of the mirror interrupt her pre-stepclass makeup session to look up sharply at Jordan. Feeling awkward and out of place, Jordan thought about calling today a wash and just going home. She didn’t think she was up to the nonverbal competition that always took place between her and the guys in the weight room. Not today. Today she wanted to let off some steam, but not in the usual ways, by lifting or drinking. She wanted a different kind of release. Instead of heading back to her locker, Jordan went to a part of the locker room she seldom visited, where the sauna and steam room were. Entering the latter, her jeans still on, Jordan thought wryly to herself, if this doesn’t do it, nothing will.
    At first the billows of white air and the hissing pipes made her panic, blocking her lungs and nose. But soon the dim fog calmed her and she sat down on one of the concrete benches that lined the small, tiled room. Shutting her eyes, she imagined her tension dissipating into the vapor that surrounded her. Work, the guys at Kelly’s, the indifferent parade of nude women—none of that seemed to matter any more. Jordan felt her pores, her lungs, her very soul being purified by the hot whiteness. After a while, when the hissing had stopped and the air cleared a bit, Jordan became aware of the itchy dampness of her jeans and decided to take a cold shower. Hell, maybe she’d even lift after all. When she opened her eyes, however, she was startled to see standing in front of her the woman she had
noticed showering earlier. Trying not to be rude, she couldn’t help but stare at the woman’s sumptuous breasts spilling over her ample belly, which jutted out defiantly, almost obscuring her wide, lush hips and her abundant thighs. Breaking out of her trance, Jordan felt instantly embarrassed and opened her mouth. Before she could say anything, however, the woman cupped her heavy breasts in her arms and mashed Jordan’s face into them.
    At first Jordan, feeling ridiculous and ashamed, tried to pull away. But the woman was stronger than she looked, and her breasts were both reassuring and exciting. Slowly, aware that she had just lost a battle of some sort, Jordan stretched her arms around the woman’s plush waist in a futile attempt to contain her and, thereby, to regain control. But she couldn’t. Instead, she stood, pushing the woman down as she did so, registering with satisfaction the gentle smack of the woman’s flesh as it made contact with the hard tile floor. Realizing how hot the woman’s skin felt against her own steaming skin, it occurred to Jordan what she was about to do.
    Kneeling, she reached down to put her hands between the woman’s legs. As she tried to spread the woman’s thighs, Jordan’s rough, callused hands quickly got lost in the soft, pressing, resistant flesh. She was surprised; somehow she had assumed they would respond to her touch just as a sealed envelope slides effortlessly open when held over boiling water. Glimpsing the curly light-brown hair that was all but covered by the two voluminous thighs, Jordan was inspired to renew her efforts. Realizing that pushing harder would only create more resistance, she decided to knead the flesh as she would dough in an attempt to make its plump firmness yield to her desires. She was rewarded to feel the woman’s body relax and the legs finally separate. Rewarded and frustrated anew, for as they did, the woman’s abundant belly cascaded down between
them like lava, once again filling the crevice she had struggled so hard to expose.
    Frustration gave way to admiration—awe, really—as Jordan gazed upon the seemingly endless expanse