Purple Panties Read online

  Purple panties

  AN EROTICANOIR.COM ANTHOLOGY

  Strebor Books

  P.O. Box 6505

  Largo, MD 20792

  http://www.streborbooks.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2008 Purple Panties: An Eroticanoir.com Anthology edited by Zane

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address Strebor Books, P.O. Box 6505, Largo, MD 20792.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4391-0042-4

  ISBN-10: 1-4391-0042-X

  LCCN 2007943468

  Visit us on the World Wide Web:

  http://www.SimonSays.com

  COPYRIGHT NOTICES

  It’s All or Nothing © 2007 by Laurinda D. Brown

  Bread and Roses © 2007 by Anna Black

  My Side of Things © 2007 by Marlon Rachquel Moore

  Sensei ni Rei © 2007 by Tigress Healy

  Interfacing © 2007 by MJ Williamz

  Crave © 2007 by Rachel Merriweather

  Lipstick on Her Collar © 2007 by Samantha Green

  Underneath © 2007 by Alison Tyler

  Island Goddess © 2007 by Yuri

  Hard to Get © 2007 by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  The Purple Panty Revue © 2007 by Claudia Moss

  Uma © 2007 by Sydney Molaré

  Miss Julidene’s Sexy Items © 2007 by Jocelyn Bringas

  Wet © 2007 by Rossan Santos

  Mom’s Night Out © 2007 by Regina Jamison

  Woman of the Year © 2007 by Jean Copeland

  The Next Girl © 2007 by Tawanna Sullivan

  Pleasures © 2007 by Elissa Gabrielle

  The Finest Man © 2007 by Wanda D. Hudson

  Hailey’s Orgasmic Splendor © 2007 by Michelle Robinson

  The Time Tripper © 2007 by LaMonda Horton-Stallings

  Jacquie © 2007 by Jolie du Pré

  At Last © 2007 by Kimberly Kaye Terry

  New Orientation © 2007 by Deloris Lynders

  The Private Room © 2007 by Allison Hobbs

  In My Mind © 2007 by Zane

  This book is dedicated to all the people in the world involved in same-gender loving relationships.

  People are always so quick to judge, even though they fear being judged themselves.

  We are given but one life and make the most of yours, regardless of what others might think.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Introduction

  It’s All or Nothing Laurinda D. Brown

  Bread and Roses Anna Black

  My Side of Things Raquel Moore

  Sensei ni Rei Tigress Healy

  Interfacing MJ Williamz

  Crave Rachel Merriweather

  Lipstick on Her Collar Samantha Green

  Underneath Alison Tyler

  Island Goddess Yuri

  Hard to Get Rachel Kramer Bussel

  The Purple Panty Revue Claudia Moss

  Uma Sydney Molaré

  Miss Julidene’s Sexy Items Joy Bringas

  Wet Dylynn DeSaint

  Mom’s Night Out Regina Jamison

  Woman of the Year Charlotte Dare

  The Next Girl Tawanna Sullivan

  Pleasures Elissa Gabrielle

  The Finest Man Wanda D. Hudson

  Hailey’s Orgasmic Splendor Michelle Robinson

  The Time Tripper Lucille Gayles

  Jacqui Jolie du Pré

  At Last Kimberly Kaye Terry

  New Orientation Delilah Devlin

  The Private Room Allison Hobbs

  In My Mind Zane

  Introduction

  I have but one word for this book: Hot! No, three words: Hot! Hot! Hot! Yes, it is like that! When I first decided to do Purple Panties, a lot of my friends said, “Well, what if people think you’re a lesbian!” First of all, I’ve often been called a lesbian; mostly by men in my past who thought that the only way I could not want to be with them is because I had to be gay. If there is one person on this earth who cares not what “hypocritical” people think, it is me or I would never have written my first book: The Sex Chronicles: Shattering the Myth. Secondly, if I were a lesbian, that would be my business and I would have no issues with being open and honest about it. Thirdly, I am sick of people trying to tell other people who to love, who to fuck, and, in general, how to live.

  Passion and sensuality are not only universal, which is why I edited Chocolate Flava, Caramel Flava and Asian Spice. Passion and sensuality are also for people involved in same gender-loving relationships. Life is what it is and people have no right to judge others. Besides, if you are even reading this introduction and have an issue with the lesbian theme, why did you pick it up?

  Okay, enough venting. Let me say this. I have written a lot of erotica and have read a lot more but when I was editing this collection, I realized that it is the most sensual one to date. And it is not just for lesbians. It is for women and men. In fact, I am willing to bet that men who read it will be just as hot and bothered as the women who read it. Reading a book is not going to make you eat pussy but it might just open up your mind to some new ideas. After all, women all have the same body parts and we know what pleases us; often more than any man ever will. I got a ton of new thoughts circulating in my mind after reading these stories; that’s for damn sure.

  I am not stopping here either. The second edition of Purple Panties, entitled Missionary No More, will be released in January 2009 so be on the lookout for it. I received so many awesome submissions that I had to split it into two books. These women are not even playing with their shit and I love women who do not play when it comes to getting their freak on. More so than the hot sex scenes contained within this volume, I truly appreciate the creativeness exhibited by the various authors, who come from all walks of life but have one common goal: being one hell of an erotica writer. The storylines and character development are nothing short of amazing. I would like to personally thank all of the contributors for allowing me to put their visions out into the world.

  You might need a few drinks when you read this book, definitely a sex toy or a lover, but you are in for one hell of a ride. I want to see a lot of sisters wearing purple panties after this. In fact, visit my site, www.eroticanoir.com, and purchase them so you can make a powerful statement of your own: that you are sexually uninhibited and free from the mental chains of oppression. Make sure that you join my email list by sending a blank email to [email protected] and visit me on MySpace at www.myspace.com/zaneland. Lastly, make sure you also pick up a copy of Flesh to Flesh, edited by Strebor Books author Lee Hayes if you have any interest in male gay erotica. I am the publisher and guarantee you will enjoy that as well. For more gay and lesbian literature from Strebor Books, visit www.streborbooks.com

  Blessings,

  It’s All or Nothing

  Laurinda D. Brown

  S itting at the intersection of Ponce and Peachtree, I found myself consumed with how I had spent my evening. The backlight from my cell phone had been blinking with missed text messages and missed calls from home. I knew most of those calls were from Walter and my grandbabies, telling me they were going to bed. Somehow, over the past several months, I’d lost concern over keeping up with their schedules. My husband of thirty years told me of his whereabouts daily, and I had grown tired of hearing the same old things, day in and day out. I often found myself mouthing his every syllable, his every word, whenever he spoke to me.

  A provost at Howard University, his life didn’t have much excitement. He got up in the mornings, did five miles on the treadmill, took a se
ven and a half-minute shower, splashed on the same Grey Flannel aftershave and cologne he’d worn for thirty years, put on a pair of black slacks and a crisp, white dress shirt with black socks, made himself a bran muffin, a glass of apple juice and a cup of black Sanka, and drove his 1973 Dodge Charger to Lot D on the university’s campus. In the evenings when he got home, he’d talk my ear off about his day and his colleagues who had gotten on his nerves.

  The only one who ever caught and kept my attention was Lee Matthews, a young African-American woman who’d received her MBA from Georgetown. She was in her thirties from what Walter had told me, and the administration was giving her hell about her radical stance when it came to sexual orientation discrimination in the workplace. The university’s position was like the military’s—don’t ask, don’t tell. Lee’s attitude was that there was nothing in place to protect gays that worked for the school in the event such a problem ever arose. While she didn’t come right out and say she was a lesbian, the higher-ups, including Walter, worked long hours to devise a plan for relieving this young lady of her duties.

  I first met Lee in Walter’s office one afternoon while I was waiting for him so we could go to lunch. She was standing at the photocopy machine in a gray pin-striped pantsuit with a pink blouse and a pearl choker clenching her neck. Her open-toed buff pink, three-inch-high slip-ons comforted the most beautiful feet I’d ever seen with toes perfected with an American pedicure. Lee wore her sandy hair in a nice fluffy ponytail that bounced when she moved. As she removed her papers from the document tray, I realized I was staring and turned shyly away. Looking out the window high over Georgia Avenue, I felt her approaching me.

  “Dr. Woodson?” she asked.

  I, at the age of forty-nine with four grown children, was like a schoolgirl. I had an Ed.D. from the University of Maryland that had seemed to go to waste over the years because Walter wanted me at home when the kids got in from school. I’d sacrificed who I’d worked so hard to become because my husband didn’t want to be outdone by his wife. I drove what he wanted me to drive—a Black Lexus LS430, and, I wore what he wanted me to wear—Dolce and Gabbana, Versace and Prada. I looked like a million dollars whenever I stepped out of the house, and today was no exception. I was wearing Michael Kors.

  “Yes?” I answered.

  I’d say she was about six feet tall in her heels. She towered over my five-foot-five frame, and, as she walked closer to me, I was stricken by her beauty. Like Marvin Gaye said in “Trouble Man,” I was coming apart, and the room was suddenly a little warm for me. It wasn’t the hot flashes I’d grown used to, with menopause around the corner.

  Extending her hand, she politely said, “I’m Lee Matthews.” She firmly shook my hand and introduced herself as the new director of university advancement. “I recognized you from the picture your husband has on his desk. They need to fire whoever took that photo because you’re way more beautiful in person.”

  Blushing, I replied, “Well, thank you, Ms. Matthews.”

  “No, please, call me Lee.” She smelled divine. “Are you here to see him?” she asked, pointing toward Walter’s office.

  “As a matter of fact, I am. We’re supposed to be having lunch.”

  Lee looked puzzled. “Today?”

  “Yes, we talked about it just this morning before he left.”

  Lee got up and walked over to Walter’s secretary’s desk. “He must’ve been confused then. He and some of the deans are over at Catholic University for a meeting. They’ve been there since this morning, and, according to his calendar, he’ll be out all day.”

  On a normal day I would’ve been pissed because I hated driving into D.C. from Manassas. I’d told Walter I wanted to move out of Virginia because of all the taxes we had to pay, but he was never listening to me.

  “Well, I guess maybe he forgot.” I was ashamed to admit he’d actually done it to me before.

  Lee, flipping through the stack of papers she was cradling in her arm, headed toward the door but stopped and stole a look at her watch. “Look, I’m about to go to lunch myself, and I’d hate for you to have come all this way for nothing. Would you mind joining me? I mean, I can understand if you don’t want to; since you just met me like five minutes ago.”

  “Oh, no, no. I wouldn’t mind. I was actually going to ask you the same thing.”

  I laughed, collecting my purse and car keys. The moment we stepped out of Walter’s office I knew I was entering a new realm.

  We’d agreed upon Union Station for lunch since she wanted seafood, and I wanted a good salad. In the ten minutes it took us to make it there, I’d learned that Lee had gone to Mount Holyoke for undergrad, had one brother, had interned at Marriott Hotels and had been instrumental in helping them develop more stringent diversity inclusion programs. In listening to how passionate she was about the protection of gays in the workplace and the occasional references to her “ex-roommate,” I concluded she was in the life. My sister, Melba, was gay, and, before opening up to me about her lifestyle, all of her former lovers had actually been ex-roommates. I’d envied my sister for being able to have some spice in her life and for being able to do different things, and different people, whenever she wanted. In this short period of time, Lee had become something different for me. Anyway, when we pulled up the ramp to the parking garage, I noticed Lee looking around at all the cars.

  “Seems a bit crowded today, you think?”

  Wrapping around the curves in search of an empty parking space, I agreed. “Yeah, it is, but I’m sure we’ll find something in a sec.” Right then an Escalade, with its reverse lights on, floated from its space. “Here we go. I told you it wouldn’t take long.”

  Walking through the door, I glanced over the railing and saw people entering the train station from the platform. Lee, taking a glimpse at her watch again, walked over to the monitor and scanned the departure schedules. Standing by waiting for her to get finished, I was completely caught off guard when she turned and grabbed my hand.

  “Come on! It leaves in ten minutes!” she shrieked.

  “What?” I said, taking off my heels as she tugged me along.

  Lee didn’t say anything else; scampering through the crowds. We ended up at the ticket window.

  “Two to New York City, please.”

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Hold on,” she shushed.

  Accustomed to doing whatever I was told, I moved aside and leaned against the vacant counter to put my shoes back on and catch my breath. No sooner than I had relaxed, Lee grabbed my hand again and took off toward the platform.

  “I hope you don’t mind the sleeping car. That’s all they had left.”

  “Sleeping car? New York? What’s going on?” I asked. “I thought you wanted to go to lunch.”

  Again, Lee didn’t say anything. She pulled me through the crowds like a Yamaha on the Beltway, and, when we got to the steps of the train, she turned to me with my hair dripping wet with sweat and simply smiled.

  “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  I wanted so badly to tell her yes, but my spirit, in need of this liberty, put its hand over my mouth.

  “No, I don’t.” I giggled, grabbing the handrail and lifting myself onto the train.

  Giving our tickets to the attendant, Lee and I followed behind him as he led us up the stairs to our accommodations. I was pooped and dropped my weary bones into an awaiting chair.

  With a kind but curious smile, I asked, “What are you doing, Lee?”

  I wasn’t one who was used to spontaneity. There was a time and a place for everything.

  Standing before the mirror, wiping tiny beads of sweat from her brow, she snickered. “I decided I wanted some seafood from City Crab, and I thought you might like that, too.”

  Lee, taking off her jacket and hanging it up in the closet, jumped up onto the top bunk and stretched out across the bed on her stomach.

  Confused at why we had to travel all the way to New York for seafood, I said, i
n amazement, “Dear, we could’ve gone down to the wharf, if that’s what you wanted. There’s plenty…”

  “I wasn’t really feeling that today, Dr. Woodson. The bosses are out of the office, so I felt like goofing off. Sometimes I think they have it in for me anyway.”

  “Uh, it’s Meena. You can call me Meena.”

  “Oh, okay, Meena. You know those papers you saw me with when you came in?”

  “Yes, I recall them.”

  “Well, that was my resume. I’ve been interviewing for jobs in Atlanta. Those stiff-shirts don’t realize I’ve known for weeks that they’ve been plotting to get rid of me without causing a big stink. When I leave, it’ll be on my own terms.”

  I kept to myself what I knew. “So you’re going to leave? Just like that?”

  “As soon as something comes through, I’m gone.”

  All the way to New York, Lee fired questions at me about my life, my kids, and my career I’d left behind for Walter. “So you mean to tell me you left a hundred fifty thousand-dollar-a-year job, so you could stay at home and be a trophy wife?”

  “In a nutshell, yes, I did. I loved Walter at the time, and…”

  “At the time?”

  I’d slipped. “Well, what I meant was…”

  “You don’t have to explain. That’s your business.”

  But I wanted to go on. “No, I need to say this. I have given Walter the best of me over the years, but some days I feel like I’ve given him all of me, and that there’s nothing left for myself.” Before I knew it, I was weeping.

  Lee propped up on her elbows and pulled a tissue from her pocket. “Don’t worry, it’s clean.” She laughed.