Hot & Bothered 3: Short Short Fiction on Lesbian Desire


The third installment of Hot & Bothered brings together another 69 sensuous tales of love and lust between women, from wistful fantasies to one-night encounters. These sexy, deeply imagined stories are guaranteed to get readers hot & bothered all over again.

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The third installment of Hot & Bothered brings together another 69 sensuous tales of love and lust between women, from wistful fantasies to one-night encounters. These sexy, deeply imagined stories are guaranteed to get readers hot & bothered all over again.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781551521022
  • Publisher: Arsenal Pulp Press, Limited
  • Publication date: 7/1/2002
  • Pages: 240
  • Product dimensions: 5.50 (w) x 8.50 (h) x 0.60 (d)

Read an Excerpt

Hot & Bothered
By Karen X. Tulchinsky Arsenal Pulp Press

Copyright © 2001 Karen X. Tulchinsky
All right reserved.

ISBN: 9781551521022

Chapter One


People in

It was the beginning of the end of the world but not everyone noticed right away. Some people were dying. Some people were busy. Some people were cleaning their houses while the war movie played on television.

    The cigarette in the mouth of the woman behind the register was cemented with purple lipstick. She had lipstick smeared on her smock. Tiny caterpillars of grey ash decorated the sticky glass countertop.

    "I'll take these two," Kate told her, holding each bra in a different hand.

    "You'd better try them on," the clerk answered with a quick professional assessment. "These are too big for you, miss, and after a certain age you can't count on growing any more in that direction."

    "They're not for me," Kate said, enjoying herself thoroughly. "Cash, please."

    Which one would Molly wear first? She held them in her hands, absentmindedly running the material through her fingers. Kate would see them on Molly's body before she touched them in place. There was the demure lace that opened from the front, likewalking in through a garden gate. Then there was the really dirty push-up that didn't need to open. Kate could lift Molly's breasts right out over the top. Kate held them in her hands. She could run her fingers over the lace and feel its texture as she felt Molly's nipples changing underneath.

    "Leopard-print crotchless panties on sale," the woman added, folding ashes into the wrapping paper. "Maybe your friend would like a pair of these, too. Great with skirts."

    It would be three days before she saw Molly again. Kate climbed the stairs to her lover's apartment and left the package by the front door with a private note.

    When they did meet on schedule, Kate felt a certain nervous eroticism wondering which one Molly had chosen, which one was waiting for her under Molly's soft blouse.

    "You're sexy," Kate told her at dusk. "You have languid eyes and beautiful breasts. I gift wrap them as a present to myself. Your breasts are beautiful, creamy, and sweet."

    She pressed her hands from Molly's face to her chest and felt the shape of the lace underneath, but then kept going back to that wisp waist and the sloping shelf at the end of her back.

    "But it's your ass that turns me on tonight. Tonight it's your ass that's hot."

    Then she thought, Am I really saying these things?

    Molly pulled her out of the early streetlight and into a shadow, so the gypsy reading fortunes in the storefront across the way wouldn't have to push her kids into the back room out of sight. Molly arched her ass, sliding over Kate's flesh so that Kate felt her lover's warm body against her chest and the cool brick wall on her back.

    "Let's go up on your roof," Kate said.

    "You really want to do it, don't you?" Molly laughed, her neck smelling like cucumber.

    "Guess so."

    "Let's go," Molly said, looking sparkly and quite lovely. "Besides, there's not that much time left."

    There was a change, then, to a quiet happiness and a certain sense of contentment that accompanied them up the stairs. On top of the building there was only heaven and a radio rising from illuminated shapes. A man was smoking somewhere—they could hear him cough. The radio was a thin reed. There was a child to the right and silverware clattering, all below. There were undiscernible cars, frequently, and a chime and a voice.

Chapter Two


Love's Year

It began in April, because she said that was when she began, and it was a time for new things. She taught me more than one new thing, like how to kiss her and fondle her at the same time without fumbling either one. She said my kiss resurrected her, and hers made me bloom. In May we discovered sex out of doors, long hours in the rope hammock, each with one of the other's hands tucked between our legs, until we were both satisfied and the Goddess had played tic tac toe upon our backs. But our moment in the sun was yet to come. June was a month of true summer, when I learned to lick the sweat from her back, when we would soak the sheets with our wetness, so slick we were like seals or mermaids as we slid against each other. The intensity of July sent us to the mountains, to laze in a cabin by the lakeshore, but by evening when the mosquitoes came out, we would have already spent the afternoon biting one another. By August the heat became too much for me and I struggled to hold her at arms length. But I was too torpid to move that fast, as she licked at me like I was ice cream. With September came first day classroom feelings as she sensed my unease and began to instruct me in new endeavours, how to hold her gently afterward, what to talk about when the sweating and sucking is over. In October she declared it the season for indoor sports, and so I held her like a bowling ball, thumb in one hole, fingers in the other, and she ping ponged me from wistful to wanton and back again.

    November was the month of the turkey baster.

    Snow came in December, and long mornings spent in bed after office closings, her hand sliding between the blanket and my stomach, her hair around her head like a wreath on the pillow, but somehow I knew her heart was no longer a gift. January we celebrated with a kiss at midnight, but it would be a winter of discontent. By February the cold was bitter. And in March that is exactly what I did.


Excerpted from Hot & Bothered by Karen X. Tulchinsky Copyright © 2001 by Karen X. Tulchinsky. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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