This story appeared in The Harrington Lesbian Fiction Quarterly (Haworth Press), edited by Judith P. Stelboum, in 2004 The eclipse of the sun didn't seem important to me at the time. I had never been especially interested in the movements of stars, planets, or other...
As she faced the firing squad, in a distant chilling dawn, Margarete Louriette Magnons remembered that afternoon when she discovered Amaryllis. Then there had been no war, only desire. Amaryllis lived in Carcasone near the border. It was a small town, only sixty...
The moment I saw Aracelli, I decided I hated her. I was nineteen. For a year, I had been scrambling in the back rows of class and rehearsal at American Ballet. She appeared one sweltering May afternoon, a new student, serene, frail, with skin that gleamed like melted...
I was sitting on our bed in shorts and an Alouettes t-shirt and had just opened ICQ on the laptop, when the cordless rang. The caller ID read "LETHBRIDGE". I smiled and hit the speakerphone. "Hello!" "Hi Daddy!" Becky shouted, "Mommy and I love you!" "And I love you...
"John Gage." I froze at the keyboard. I knew that charcoal voice, smooth and masculine. It slid around me every night, stroked my ear, sent warm swells of wishful thinking down my thighs. Don Desjardins was the seductive, erudite host of an all-night jazz program, who...
After a whole lot of soul searching I arrive at the conclusion that the honourable thing to do is to come clean with Karin, my long-distance Email Lover. Therefore, naturally, I lie. I tell Karin this: I've met another woman on line. Rhonda. Just chatting and stuff....
"We have a prop for you today, Johnny," purred the avant-garde lesbian-feminist art instructor I thought of as Ms. Muff. I hated the way she used the royal "we," and I hated her version of my French-Canadian name, Jean. There's something about being naked in a roomful...
"Oh beautiful losers, you never seem to win. There's something weird about your very erotic sin. It wasn't perfect. Why did it end that way? ...Oh beautiful losers, tear out their eyes. Beautiful losers laying there warm inside. I tried to touch you but you were...
The floor of the old baroque theatre showing 'Aaron in the Sheets' was littered with paper cups and used condoms. The whole place reeked of sweat and cum, plus it was stifling hot. But Denyce was determined to see this through. This was her first assignment, a kickoff...
Donegal, Ireland. 1834 "I'm going to die," Father Boyle bellowed, leaning forward into the wind coming off the Atlantic; his harsh flat tones helping him to be heard above the crashing of the surf. A bonfire roared on the beach, its flames leaping and swaying as if...