Marcie’s Lesbian Love (Book 1)

Marcie’s Lesbian Love

  by Ella Gottfried

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  Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  This story has erotic themes and is suitable for adults, 18+ only.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter One

  Wonton wrappers lined the kitchen counters as I stuffed each one with a teaspoon of the crab Rangoon mixture. The kitchen was huge, much larger than the one in my small culinary class, and I was feeling a little lost.

  “Guests will be arriving soon,” Mr. Franko announced.

  He was short, kind of chubby, and the toupee on his head wasn’t fooling anyone, but this was my first big job, so I wasn’t going to point out the crooked mop on top of his head.

  The guest list was filled with musicians, mostly wanna-be’s, but with Mr. Franko’s reputation, at least a few of them would go on to greatness.

  I brushed the wrappers with egg wash and began folding them one by one. The oil was heating up and almost ready for me to start frying them when a tall, blonde haired woman walked into the kitchen.

  “Smells delicious,” she said.

  I looked up, smiled, and then went back to my work. With 20 guests on the invitation list, I didn’t have time to chit chat with this woman, whoever she was.

  “Crab Rangoon, oh man, that’s my favorite thing to eat…well, second favorite,” she said with a wink.

  I found her to be obvious, too obvious, and slightly vulgar, but intriguing in some way.

  She leaned against the counter, watching me as I dropped six of the appetizers into the hot oil.

  “I’m sorry, I’m Carla,” she said.

  “I’m Marcie,” I responded, still not wanting to spend much time talking.

  “I can’t wait to taste you, I mean taste what you have made,” she said.

  Seriously, who was this woman?

  In the small town in Indiana where I grew up, lesbians were a myth, something men watched on movies and wished they could experience, not like here in L.A., where women openly admitted their taste for the same sex. I wasn’t sure if I was used to it yet or not, and Carla certainly made me wonder if I ever would be….

  Her smile was contagious, and even though I found her offensive on many levels, she was attractive, funny, and somehow sexy.

  Carla pushed away from the counter, gripped a glass of wine and swaggered out of the kitchen.

  I watched as her tall, lean frame left the room. Her legs were long and toned and looked amazing in the red high-heels she wore so effortlessly.

  I finished the remaining appetizers and made a walk through to all the guests, serving them each my tasty creations one by one. When I made my way to Carla, she was talking to a pretty brunette; she was cute, young, at least ten years younger than Carla and seemed interested in everything she said.

  “Thank you, they look almost as good as you…” Carla said as she picked up one of the crab apps from my tray.

  The brunette looked irritated at her attentions towards me, and I knew by the heat on my cheeks that I looked embarrassed.

  Mr. Franko was announcing an upcoming show for one of the musicians, so I snuck back into the kitchen.

  Carla showed up behind me, smiling in her flirtatious way. Why was she so interested in me, I wasn’t gay?

  “So, you seeing anyone?” she asked.

  Wow, she’s forward.

  “No, I broke up with my boyfriend before I started culinary school.” I said.

  I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to throw that into the conversation, maybe just to let her know I dated men, not women…

  “Boyfriend?” she asked.

  Her perfectly manicured eyebrows rose at my confession of being a straight woman as if she was shocked at the revelation.

  “So, you came out when you went to school?” she asked.

  Her blue eyes stared into my soul, as if they waited for not only the answer to the question, but the answer to life.

  “Came out?” I asked.

  I knew what she meant, but I played coy, hoping to throw her away from the topic.

  “Came out darling, you know, gave in to your sexual preference for women…” she said.

  My stomach tightened and my eyes moved quickly away from hers and back to the next course I was preparing.

  The memory of Shawna from culinary school and our one night of exploration shot through my mind like a vivid movie. That didn’t mean anything, did it?

  “I’m not gay,” I said, smiling so I wouldn’t offend her.

  “Oh, you are…I can sniff others out like a hound dog looking for rabbit,” she said.

  I could feel her eyes still on me, but I refused to look at her directly. The fear of her being able to see through me, see the night of sexual deviance I shared with my best friend from college kept my eyes on the chicken breasts in front of me.

  “Here, come by the gym,” she said, pushing a business card next to me on the counter.

  I looked up, noticed she had a smile, no longer looking at me like I was her prey, but softer, kinder…

  “I manage the place, at least until I hit it big…” she said.

  “This is right by my house,” I said.

  “Good, then you have no excuse…” she responded.

  “I’ll check it out,” I promised, and with that, she left me to finish the meal preparation.

  Chapter Two

  I walked up the steps to my apartment building and another flight to my door. I was already breathing heavy, man I did need a gym!

  Inside, I locked the door and fell onto the couch. It was late, and my feet ached, so unloading the car could wait until morning.

  I pulled the business card from my pocket and stared at it.

  Porter’s Gym and Fitness Lounge

  What was a fitness lounge I wondered….

  Carla Stein

  Manager

  She was different, but in a refreshing kind of way. I wasn’t sure why, but she was interesting to me…very interesting.

  Ok, so maybe her gaydar was out, but it was wrong…I was straight, perfectly straight.

  My mind drifted to Shawna and that night we spent together. It was innocent really, nothing spectacular, and she’s engaged now to a successful chef in New York, a male chef…so she obviously wasn’t a lesbian, so why was Carla so sure I was?

  I did prefer lesbian porn, but that was only because the men in those movies were so grotesque. My boyfriend back home was a jock, a real man’s man, and he turned me on…well, not really.

  I loved it when he kissed me, but when his hands traveled along my body, it tended to make me tense, not like when Shawna touched me.

  My head fell onto the couch pillow, and my body sunk down into the fluffy seat as my hand slid to my belly, resting just above my pant line, as if I were trying to sneak up on my pussy that tingled in anticipation of the touch.

  I let my back arch, pushing my hand closer to my pant line until the tips of my fingers were slid underneath the soft black fabric. My lace panties tickled my fingers as they brushed over them. My pussy throbbed as I
pushed my fingers underneath the lace and towards my soft, pink flesh.

  The image of Shawna was still vividly clear in my mind, her soft brown curls that hung to her shoulders as she sat on the edge of my bed. Her breasts were large and full, not like my small perky ones that barely made cause for a bra.

  I loved that look in her eye, the one right before she leaned in to kiss me for the first time. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, and that kiss, oh how that kiss sent me over the edge of my grey world into a rainbow of pleasure.

  Her lips were pouty and pink as they pulled away from me, and even though we were both a little tipsy, there was nothing about that moment I had forgotten, or would ever forget.

  My fingers felt the slippery juices created between my legs and slid back and forth in them as I let out a soft sigh.

  Shawna and I had decided to experiment with our sexuality after a party where truth or dare played between classmates turned a little steamy. Our talk led to “you curious?” and “we could try,” and “It doesn’t mean anything,” but, it did mean something to me, I just wasn’t sure exactly what.

  My pussy wrapped around my fingers, the muscles pulling them inside, squeezing them as they plunged deeper into my tight hole.

  Shawna’s pussy was so tight when I first slid a finger inside. It felt warm, soft, and strangely comforting as I watched her moan from my touch. My tongue barely grazed her clit, and only once dipped inside her pussy before she started giggling. I laughed with her, not really knowing what she found so funny at the time.

  “Ok, we tried…” she said, tossing her hair behind her shoulder and leaning up on the bed.

  My fingers worked deep inside my pussy as I remembered how she tasted, how she smelled, and how she looked spread wide open in front of me. I knew if she hadn’t started laughing, I would have continued with our sexual game until we were both satisfied, but she did laugh, and I didn’t finish…so did it even count?

  My back arched hard, my breasts heaving towards the ceiling, my body let loose of the tension and juices flowed onto my fingers as I remembered how Carla had looked at me, as if she knew something I hadn’t told her, something maybe I even didn’t know…

  My body twitched with the aftershock of my orgasm, holding onto my fingers with a strong and powerful force as I lay there confused about the thoughts that have managed their way into my head.

  I sat up from the couch, alert and determined to wash away the dirty thoughts that had just brought me to such a powerful pleasure.

  I turned on the shower, undressed and stood in front of the mirror challenging myself to find anything sexy about my ordinary body. Small breasts and wide hips mocked me in the mirror. The woman at the party Carla had been talking to was extremely petite with large, full breasts, so why was she flirting with me?

  I was fit, well-toned, but I looked more like a soccer player than a ballerina, I had come to terms with that…

  I stepped inside the shower and let the water roll over my body as I lathered my loofah. It had been a long night, and my feet still hurt, even more so now that I removed my ugly black shoes. Everyone at that party was so fancy, so classy, even Carla with her foul mouth was dressed to kill. Maybe I should do more to take care of myself, then maybe I would meet someone…the gym, yes, I will start the gym in the morning.

  Chapter Three

  My calves were aching as I made the third trip up my stairs with my catering equipment. Why did I always bring so much stuff?

  Most of my clients had fully-equipped kitchens, ones that were more designed for commercial cooking than personal, so there was not really a need for so many pans and trays. I’ll check with the client next time, or possibly get some help…but, never am I doing this alone again.

  Wow, I really am out of shape. I fell onto the couch and let my lungs catch up with my heavy breathing for a moment. The gym card was still on the side table, mocking me, as well as the promise I made myself in the shower. Just do it Marcie…

  My neighbors, the young couple below me were already going at this morning. I could hear moans and grunts coming from the floor beneath my feet. I want that so bad, just to have someone to hold, laugh with, and enjoy waking up with….

  L.A. proved to be a cold and lonely city, especially for one that had an average temperature of 70 degrees F, even in the winter months.

  It was summer now, 85 degrees outside and sunny. People were holding hands walking along the beach, spending their Saturday in the park with a picnic, or doing what the neighbors were doing, snuggled in bed together making love. I on the other hand, I sat here…alone.

  I decided to quit feeling sorry for myself and get up off my ass. Today was the start of a new life, one filled with ambition and hope. I threw on my yoga pants and tank top, laced up my Nike tennis shoes and pulled my hair into a tight pony tail.

  With the business card in my hand, I walked out of my apartment and towards Porter’s Gym and Fitness lounge, whatever the hell that was.

  As suspected, couples were already out on the sidewalks, flaunting their love and their commitments to anyone who took notice. It was sweet, romantic, and a little bit nauseating.

  The gym was only a couple blocks from my apartment, I had passed it on several occasions since I moved in, but never thought to stop.

  Dark windows lined the sidewalk, a large blue door with a sign “Porter’s Gym and Fitness Lounge” hung above it, but no other signs or peeks through the glass to display what the place was really all about.

  Was it a lesbian gym? My heart started pounding as I realized that may be why Carla offered me the card.

  I took a deep breath and turned the door knob, pushing the door open as I took my first step inside.

  The bright teal walls were energetic and the woman at the counter competing with them as she cheerfully greeted me into the gym.

  To the right, a lounge area filled with bean bag chairs, colorful furniture and a juice bar and to the left, a gym, just like one you would expect anywhere, just more colorful, and filled only with women.

  So, is this a lesbian gym? Shouldn’t they advertise that…?

  “Welcome to Porter’s, have you been here before?” the woman asked behind the counter.

  “No,” I said, muttering really, and then handed her the business card as if it were an invite, or form of I.D.

  “A friend of Carla’s, great,” she said, her voice even perkier than before.

  “She just gave me the card, I live nearby…” I started to ramble.

  I always ramble when I am nervous. Why did this woman care how I got the card or where I lived…she didn’t!

  “I think you’ll love it here,” she said.

  She punched in a few keys on her computer and then looked up at me with a smile. “If you’ll have a seat, Carla will be right with you,” she said.

  Oh God, so Carla is here? I was hoping to slip in, check out the place and not have to see her face to face, at least not right away.

  I looked around at the women in the gym; they were all shapes and sizes. At least it wasn’t a body builder’s gym, or the type of gym where only cheerleader types hung out.

  I sat down on the cushioned bench, smiled at the woman behind the counter and thumbed through a magazine, pretending to be interested in the articles, but only looked at the pictures.

  “Marcie,” Carla said, reaching towards me with an open hand.

  I stood.

  “Hey Carla, I thought I would stop by and check this place out,” I said.

  I sounded cool, calm…thank God, because I was a nervous wreck.

  She wore tight yoga pants that created very little imagination to what was happening between her legs. The tank top pushed against her flesh so tightly, her breasts looked flat and painful. Her smile was kind, not vulgar like the night before, and she seemed professional.

  I wanted to ask if this was a lesbian gym, but I knew that was offensive. “Is this a women’s only gym?” I asked instea
d, hoping she may shed some light on the topic if left open.

  “Yes, women only,” she said with a smile.

  Still no answer to my real question…

  The tour was thorough, but swift. She showed me the juice bar and lounge area, noting that they also serve veggie burgers, trail mix creations and various other health conscious foods.

  The gym wasn’t large, but it was impressive, and several rooms down the end of the hall housed instructors where classes formed daily for members.

  The locker room visit was slightly embarrassing as we entered while two ladies undressed. They didn’t seem to mind the attention, even smiling as they let their breasts dangle in clear view.

  Back at her office, she sat behind a wooden desk, her legs crossed and leaned back in her chair.

  “So, you wanna join us?” she asked.

  Join who, the gym or the lesbian community, to that question, I was still unsure of the meaning.

  Chapter Four

  “Yes,” I said.

  Carla’s lips curled into a smile and she leaned forward in her chair. She pushed a packet towards me, a yellow folder that was filled with all the information I needed to know about the gym.

  “Are you interested in any classes?” she asked.

  I was fumbling through the packet, trying to find the list of classes that were offered. She leaned in, touching my hand softly as she turned to the page. Her eyes lifted onto mine; heavily they lingered and then quickly moved towards her own sheet.

  “There’s a yoga class starting now, if you’re interested,” she said.

  I nodded, still a little shaken from her touch and her glance.

  “Great,” she said, standing from her chair.

  I followed her out of the office and down the hall. We passed the locker rooms where the naked women had been, causing me to blush a little before we entered the last room on the right.

  There were mats leaned up against the wall and a cute blonde standing in the front of the room. She wore bright pink yoga pants and a yellow tank top, her hair as blonde as her top, pulled up into a tight pony tail.

  Her smile was infectious as she greeted us into the room.

  “Hey Carla, how’s it going?” she asked.

  “This is Marcie, she’s a new member and she is taking your class today,” she said.

  I stood there, listening to them talk as if I wasn’t there. A stupid smile was plastered onto my face, most likely the result of a mini nervous breakdown.