Lesbian Pulp Fiction. Katherine V. Forrest
and the mature nurse emerged in a hot, rushing tide that flooded them both. Tensions were washed away. Fears and hesitations were drowned by surging lust.
Yet both knew that this was not the time or the place. They might be seen. They might be overheard.
As if the thought had struck the two simultaneously, they drew apart sharply. Beth threw a cautious glance over her shoulder. Peggy’s eyes warily searched the shadows on every side. Reassured, they turned back to each other, smiling fondly, tenderly.
“No more arguments?”
“No more arguments,” Beth promised. “I may as well enjoy you while I can.”
Peggy sat up straight. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.”
“Why not? I think of you as a butterfly—liable to take wing at any moment. Young people do tend to be flighty.”
“But this is different. We love each other!”
Beth laughed. “Don’t start that again, or I’ll be ravishing you right here on the beach. You’re a terribly tempting little hussy, you know.”
“Your hussy.”
Beth rose reluctantly. “I think we’d better get back,” she said.
Peggy nodded, slipped on her shoes.
Together they left the lake, careful to latch the gate behind them.
Halfway up the flagstoned path that led to the lodge, Beth said, “I think I’ll stop at the Pillbox a minute. I’ll be in the lounge later. If we run into each other there, be careful. Let’s not act particularly interested in each other.”
The pair halted. In the ghostly lunar glow, their eyes met and held. Beth’s look was a caress, Peggy’s an embrace. It was their only farewell.
Peggy watched until the figure in white disappeared into the night, then continued on toward the lodge. Strange, she mused. Her body no longer ached with passion. The flood of desire had waned. Instead, she felt satisfaction, content, a welling of affection and tenderness.
A joyful shout ahead of her broke into Peggy’s thoughts. Pushing the past minutes with Beth into a secret place in her heart, she hurried up the lodge steps. She collected her kids, herded them to the cabin and into bed. She decided to stretch out on her cot in the dark, and think over the events of the day.
She was asleep before her campers were.
The following day passed swiftly, but too slowly for Peggy. After dinner she was making her way up the lodge steps once more, when she was stopped by Ruth, the petite blonde.
Involuntarily, Peggy looked around for Dorothy. This time, the tall riding mistress was not in evidence.
“Say, Peggy,” said Ruth, “my girls are planning a masquerade ball for their program night, and we wondered if your cabin would like to help out.”
Peggy considered. “We haven’t decided on anything for our night yet, and that sounds like fun. I’ll ask them.”
“Good. Let me know as soon as you can.”
“Will do,” Peggy promised, continuing on her way.
That evening’s activity was being organized on the basketball court, leaving the lodge quiet and desolate. The silence permeating the big structure seemed to jar more profoundly than noise ever had. Peggy’s footfalls echoed hollowly as she walked into the lounge, a book and writing tablet under her arm. She wondered if she were the only one in the building.
It was not yet dark, but a stillness had settled over the grounds, broken only by cricket calls.
Peggy sat down at the conference table and contemplated the paper in front of her. Then she jotted a quick note to her parents, telling them all was well.
Finished, she folded the letter, stuffed it into an envelope which she addressed and stamped, then gathered her belongings and left.
It should be time, she thought. It was too late for any more kids to visit the infirmary, unless some emergency developed. She fervently hoped there were no patients staying overnight.
At the door of the Pillbox, she rapped soundly and called, “Anybody home?”
Beth came to greet her, bright and even more cheerful than usual. “For you, always,” she said pushing open the screen door. “But aren’t you supposed to be other places?”
“It’s my night off,” Peggy answered, walking toward Beth’s room. “Those of my colleagues who are unassigned, like me, are driving in to a movie that I’ve already seen. I told them I was going to stay behind to do some letter writing and catch up on my reading.”
She lowered herself into one of the chairs, dropping her book and pad to the floor.
“So why aren’t you?”
“Writing and reading? Because I’d rather be with you.”
“I’m flattered.” Beth curled up in the other large chair, asked, “What are you reading?”
“A book of short stories. I just finished that famous one by Somerset Maugham about a missionary and a prostitute. He—”
“I saw the movie they made from it,” Beth said. “It just proves how weak the flesh is.”
Peggy glanced away. “How weak men are, you mean.” She was suddenly compelled to tell Beth about Kirby Davis, about the time the big goof had had the effrontery to kiss her. But no sooner had she mentioned Kirby’s name than Beth interrupted.
“Oh, you mean Lelia’s nephew. I know him. He comes around every summer. A nice boy.”
“Nice?” Peggy laughingly told of the stolen kiss and mentioned his attempts to wheedle her into going out with him.
Beth said, “I think you should.”
Peggy stopped laughing. “Should what? Go out with him?”
“You should make it a point to meet people.”
There was a pause.
“Especially fellows, you mean,” Peggy said.
“Not necessarily. Just people who can broaden your outlook, widen your horizons. People can be an education, you know.”
“Hm. You’re right,” Peggy said, rising. “Take, for example, what I’ve learned from you.” She perched on the arm of Beth’s chair.
“Be serious,” Beth said, her breath coming a little faster.
“But I am.” Peggy bent to kiss the nurse on the mouth. When she pulled away, she looked at Beth with wide eyes. “Serious enough?”
“Too serious,” Beth answered tensely.
“That’s just a taste. Go over there,” she said, waving toward the bed, “and I’ll show you how really serious I can be.” Beth hesitated, not smiling now. “Come on,” Peggy said, taking the nurse by the hand. “No more arguments, remember?”
She pulled the nurse to her feet, drew her to the covered bed.
They fell to the bed together. “Undress me,” Peggy begged. “Take my clothes off and kiss me.”
Beth yielded, eagerly peeled off the sweatshirt Peggy wore. There was no bra under the baggy garment. Peggy’s girlish yet copiously developed breasts, vibrant with life, crowned by pink, virginal nipples, drew an agonized cry from the nurse. She buried her face in the soft, lovely mounds. “Oh, Peggy, my darling,” Beth whispered against the delicate flesh.
At the touch of Beth’s cheek upon her bosom, Peggy felt heat leap in her veins. Then Beth’s hands were drawing off Peggy’s slacks, at the same time fondling the girl’s lithe thighs, the long legs so adorably molded and curved.