Exclusive – Cara Benedetto's erotic novel 'Burning Blue': Part One II

Mira Dancy, Orchid Pose, 2014

NSFW: Sleek exclusively serialises Badlands Unlimited’s newest erotic novel – Cara Benedetto’s “Burning Blue” – in its entirety after selecting an excerpt for our current issue. We’ll publish a new part online every week accompanied by Mira Dancy’s paintings. “Burning Blue” belongs to the Badlands’ “New Lovers” series devoted to publishing all-female-penned works of erotica that explore the complexities bedevilling contemporary life, culture, and art today.

Josey left that night nameless. She had left no child behind. There was no one in an empty world, a thicket of seaweed among lost eggs. When she returned home she drank three big glasses of water and readied for her date on the screen side of life the very next day. Trish was on her mind as she got into bed and left planet Earth.

“What time is it? I’m not ready yet.” Trish snapped as Josey moved towards her table. Josey was desperately hungover. Grunting a low growl, she fell into the chair beside Trish. Josey sat still in an effort to stop the spinning.

Trish didn’t notice and continued to prepare. Josey closed her eyes and breathed deeply. When she opened them she realized that she was no longer spinning, the fog was beginning to clear. Was it possible that the presence of this odd, abrasive girl was helping her hangover?

She watched Trish shuffle papers from her backpack to remove a clunky PC. “Find anything good?” Josey asked. Trish turned to give her a smirk that broadened into a ‘you bet your ass I did’ smile. In that moment Josey noticed how pretty Trish was, with high cheekbones and a direct gaze. She wore a half shirt that revealed her elegant square shoulders and deep shades of sunkissed skin.

As Trish waited for her computer to warm up, she lightly touched Josey’s taxi-yellow nail polish. Josey blushed at the touch. She felt a wave of heat move through her arms. By the time she could say anything, Trish had placed a headset over Josey’s ears and hit Play.

A ray of sunlight hit the backlit screen. Josey had to squint to see beyond their reflections. There were two women on a bed, creating a horizontal human ‘T’. A thin and quick-bodied girl hovered over and licked the protruding nipples of a pretty, buxom blonde. Soft moans emanated from the headset. The women moved in rhythm to one another’s sound. The pretty bottom, who was much older, was getting louder, but the darting young woman on top, rubbing her into being, was the clear aggressor.

The top wore a black silk demi bra barely covering her black nipples, and red stilettos, as she fisted and sucked at the voluptuous bottom. The receiver wore nothing but white knee-high stockings. Josey was entranced with the scene. Just before Trish turned up the screen’s brightness Josey caught Trish’s eye in the reflection. Together they watched with shallow breath.

After what seemed to be hours Josey noticed that the two women had slowed down to a snail’s pace and then performed cunnilingus and kisses in reverse. Until then she hadn’t noticed Trish’s middle finger tapping a small mouse. Trish had been adjusting the speed and movement of the film the entire time. She seemed to do it live and in accordance with the erotics. Josey’s tight black jeans began to press into her rapidly swelling clit as Trish continued to tap, controlling the scene. She pretended not to notice and kept her eyes on the laptop. She was afraid that if she made eye contact with Trish her arousal would be found out.

Trish seemed oblivious to Josey and continued tapping. Josey thought she heard clicking sounds coming from Trish’s tongue but was unsure because of the increasingly noisy sex happening on screen. Her body began to ooze and she knew it was more blood mixed with something left over from the previous night. Or maybe, she thought to herself, it was something new.

Trish brought down the screen with a loud snap. The scene had ended with the two women coming into one another’s open mouth. Josey had become wet and squeezed her taut thighs together. She was unsure if Trish could smell her new juices. “What’d ya think?” the younger woman asked.

Josey met her eyes for an instant before her cheeks flushed red and she responded in a soft exhale, “I liked it, thanks.”

“Same time, same place tomorrow? Turns out I’ve got a lot of this stuff.” This time Trish was looking away. Josey thought she noticed a slight indentation in her cheek, as if Trish was chewing the inside of her mouth.

“Sure, I’m game. I’m driving towards town. Do you need a ride somewhere?” she asked, doing her best to sound casual.

“Uh, no thanks, I’m good. See ya tomorrow.” With that, Trish briskly stood up and strode out without looking back. She walked with a stiff neck, while the rest of her body seemed loose and aloof, as if she was compensating for an injury of some kind. Funny girl, Josey thought to herself. She reached across the table, intending to return the coffee cups to the counter, but realized, smiling to herself, that neither of them had ordered coffee. She waved to the girl at the counter and moved hurriedly towards the door.

As she exited the cafe she let her mind drift over the sundrenched scene. They certainly made an odd pair. A pretty, abrasive punk and a desperate middle- aged professional sitting next to each other watching pre-lunchtime porn. Josey was aroused, and it wasn’t just because of the porn. Her engorged clit rubbed against the crotch of her jeans. She ached to get out of them to release that stubborn feeling.

Josey laid down on her stomach in the backseat of her car. Pressing palm and fist into her vulva, she worked rapidly to pronounce her desire, nearly whimpering as she came hard twice. Her heavy breathing slowed to mime the rhythm of the women, controlled by the fervent twitch of Trish’s tapping fingers as she clicked out a tongue to clit ratio. Josey moaned furiously in time with her wet blood-pain and new want.

When she arrived at the cabin there was a white truck parked to the side of the driveway. The back gate creaked ajar. Josey quietly sneaked around the edge of the cabin. Peeking over the fence she found a young man with a mop of black hair that fell onto bare broad shoulders. She announced herself with a wave and moved closer. She wondered if her blood and recent come were scenting her in his direction.

“Oh hey, I came to clean your pool. I usually do it for Mr. Scafferd once a month.”
“You’re a friend of Ryan’s?”
“Yeah, well, my dad is. I’m friends with his son, Maurice.”
“Small world. I’m Maurice’s godmother.”
“Yeah? We went to language camp together last summer, but…we haven’t really talked since.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” Josey looked him in the eye.
“Well, uh, he stole my girlfriend.” Josey smiled. She loved how open young people were.
“Ah-ha. Well…there will be more.” She stared into his dark eyes. “Can I offer you something?”
He smirked.

Josey ran her eyes over his strong, hairless chest before she moved through the kitchen to collect a soda and bathing suit. How old is he? she thought. He looks like God.

“Sorry, what’s your name?”
“Christian. Thanks, Mrs. Monroe.”
“Call me Josey. Why don’t you take a break with me?”

 They lay at the side of the pool sipping Cokes. Josey wore a red string bikini that pushed her breasts high and her ass ou
t. As Christian talked her through his young lifetime achievements, Josey let her eyes play all over him. She thought he may have noticed that she was casting a line in his direction, but didn’t think much of it. He was almost seventeen. He could handle it.

It was a hot day and they needed to cool down. Christian performed a cannonball, flirtatiously splashing Josey. Buffeted by her vertical dive, Josey’s bikini top fell off, leaving her topless under a grateful sun. Christian smiled when he noticed. He quickly lost his grin as she stood up to face him without any hint of concern for her missing top.

He stood two strides from her. She saw him take a large gulp as she moved towards him. Josey fingered her nipple with one hand, while the other hand touched her wet lips. She sucked a finger. He watched her drip.

She moved a step closer, brushing the giant eel in the process. She took his hand and placed his middle finger directly into her hot mouth. He swallowed a few more knots in his throat and then placed his other hand on her neck. Like a clumsy child, he moved his hand down her breast, waist, and ass, bringing her closer so that their faces nearly touched. He watched and listened to her suck on his tingling fingertips.

Out of patience, Christian kissed her hard. They moved towards the edge. She turned around, facing away from him, towards the forest. He clumsily pushed a few fingers inside her from behind. She was warm and wet and clenched his fingers.

Josey pushed down with her hips, into his grip, enveloping his large teenage boy fist. The water sluiced in a sharp wave onto the grassy lawn next to the pool. He responded like a star pitcher for a high school baseball team, fucking her, a solid curve ball. “I can’t wait, I need to be inside you now.” She leaned forward and closed her eyes on the woods as he hurriedly pushed his trunks down.

Eager to please, he yanked at her bikini bottom, ripping the ties, and lifted her onto his engorged fresh young cock. He worked himself into her. She felt herself stretch and fold. He pushed in deep. “Oh Mrs. Monroe,” he quaked, his voice nearly cracking with wonder. She begged the boy to fuck her harder, to pull her hair, as he slammed her over and over against a lake colored sky with soft tree shadows watching in cool relief.

Josey flipped her phone closed and ate the yogurt’s berry bottom. Only an hour until she met Trish for the second installment of middle-aged lesbian porn class. She couldn’t wait. Picking up her phone again she was reminded of the strange play of events from the night before.

It was still early. After Christian finished cleaning her pool she spoke with Asher briefly. He was distracted as usual. Asher had taken to drinking early in the day, so that by the time they spoke he was already half gone. She missed the long talks they used to have as they fell asleep in one another’s arms, but that hadn’t happened for years. Feeling even more alone after they had spoken, Josey curled up with wine by the fire, and succumbed to sleep with the sun.

Her dreams were littered with headless bodies ripping at canvas made of dark red silk. Around 3 A.M. she woke drenched in blood. For a moment she believed she’d find a decapitated head in bed but soon realized it was more of the same; eggs moving out. She cleaned up and fell asleep on the couch.

Mira Dancy, Ghost Come Again, 2015

“I like your nails.”

Josey became excited. “I love giving manicures. Do you want one? I have a nice periwinkle blue that would look great with your keyboard.”

“I’ll think about it.” Trish took a long suck from her grande iced mocha topped with a ton of whipped cream. Josey liked the way Trish punctuated her words with taps and sucks.

 “What are we watching today?”

 Trish nearly sprang out of her seat. She was clearly nervous, and that made Josey very curious. What excited this strange young woman who seems to have seen it all? “I’ve got something weird to show you,” Trish said. “Not sure you’ll like it but you mentioned blood, so why not…?”

Nice, Josey thought, she’s going for it. Josey gestured ‘go ahead.’ Trish hit Play. They looked into a black screen and this time directly into one another’s reflected gaze.

There were several people. It looked like they were outside. It was amateur. Homemade. Josey squinted to see more clearly. The headphones were squeezing her head today. They felt tighter. The people were big and small, young and old; there were children and men watching on the side. Josey blinked. Trish bit her thumbnail.

The women were in a circle and there was something covering their limbs, or were some of them missing limbs? No, it was dirt. Dirt as black as night. But it seemed that some of them had to be bleeding. Where else would all that blood be coming from? And their faces were hard to see. They were stuffed between the legs of one another.

Josey was reminded of The Human Centipede, the goriest horror film she’d ever seen, and quickly realized that it paled in comparison to what they were watching. There were sounds of muffled screams and children whimpering. The men watched somberly. The camerawork was terrible. The image jostled from side to side.

What was she looking at? She had no idea. It must be some kind of ritual. She broke character and looked at Trish with a question mark plastered on her forehead. Trish hit Pause and said, “It’s called The End of Periods. It’s a ritual.” Josey smiled and motioned for her to continue.

She watched with an open face. She let the question mark wrinkles fade. Josey spent the rest of the next half hour or so thinking about her phantom children and husband watching her eat another woman out while she and the woman covered each other in menopausal blood. She felt high.

At the end, she hugged Trish and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She would touch her hands and improve her beds one way or another. They agreed to meet at Josey’s place later that night.

Still high, Josey had arranged a beautiful spread for Trish’s manicure. She heated lavender scented oils and she bought a perfectly dry Chardonnay to go with blood oranges and pecorino, heirloom tomatoes, and beet salad. Everything would stain red, except for Trish’s new nails. Josey loved to give a good manicure.

She felt a sudden and surprising pang of anxiety. After a quick change of clothing Josey realized that she was nervous because she felt challenged by this young woman and wanted to impress her. Smiling to herself, she glanced in the mirror and wondered where the night might lead.

Trish drove in on a high-riding black Vespa. She was uncharacteristically femme, in fuchsia lipstick, eyeliner, a short jean skirt, and purple zip-up top. She looked gorgeous. “Nice place.”

“Thanks, it’s not mine. Care for wine?”

Trish wandered over to the bookshelf and started picking through the limited collection. She seemed fairly uninterested, but buzzed with an extraordinary energy. Josey couldn’t tell what was going on in the young girl’s mind. She turned her back to her to finish cutting beets. After a moment of silence, Trish said, “I hope you liked the film.”

Relieved it wasn’t a question, Josey didn’t turn around. “I loved it,” she said, sucking her stomach in lightly.

Another moment of silence and then Josey felt a cool hand on the back of her neck. “You look sunburned. Are you using protection?” Josey flushed pink and let her neck fall back on the girl’s soft fingertips. She muttered something under her breath as the pressure increased and Trish began to gently massage the back of her scalp. S
he let the knife slip to the floor.

The two women didn’t notice the clang. The whole world rested on the pressure of fingertips. Josey closed her eyes as Trish brought her other hand into play and pressed with force. After a few minutes Josey shifted ever so slightly, away, and Trish withdrew her hands.

Josey turned around to face her masseuse. With a shy and pretty smile Trish leaned forward, near a cliff-like edge but without a care. Josey was there too. She reached for Trish’s hands and stared at them, then motioned towards the table. She placed one of Trish’s hands in hot oil and then did something she’d never done. She gave a manicure in reverse. She oiled, clipped, and lotioned the hands. She then cut the nails even shorter than they were originally. Trish’s hands were left clean, perfect, and without chemical, paint, or product. Trish gave Josey a growing smile as she worked.

When she was finished, their eyes met.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Josey heard herself say.
“Yes, I do,” Trish replied.

Josey, for once, felt in control. She decided to play hard. Her eyes went cold. Standing up, she looked down at Trish and ordered the girl to strip. Trish did not look surprised by the sudden change in atmosphere. She stood up and unzipped the tight purple lycra, unleashing pretty, dark breasts. Josey felt a pang of arousal.

“Take it all off,” Josey ordered coolly. Trish peeled off the skirt and stood unwaveringly beautiful in a barely-there thong. Josey stared her down, taking her time looking over the fearless woman.

Josey sat down in a chair and motioned to Trish to come closer. Her touch started light. The graze of her fingers stiffened Trish’s stomach and spine. Her touch roughened. She placed two hands on the girl’s narrow hips and yanked her closer. Placing her nose between Trish’s legs, she smelled the dripping, delicious pussy.

While she looked directly into Trish’s eyes she pushed the black thong to one side and slipped a single finger in, the penetration exquisite in its slowness. A moan escaped the girl’s lips.

“Turn around,” Josey demanded. Trish turned slowly. Josey’s fingers gripped hard, remaining inside Trish as she shifted, achingly slowly. Each movement brought a new sensation to Trish’s interior walls. Trish’s moaning became louder. Clutching her body forward, Josey leaned into Trish and felt the moisture thicken between her legs.

Josey felt the girl’s blushing and tense body tremble with desire. Josey knew that Trish needed release but Josey wouldn’t allow it. Her grip stiffened and she began to push into Trish’s pulsing clit with hard knuckles. The young woman could barely hold on. Josey kept her safely on the edge.

Leaning down and pushing forward, she bit hard into Trish’s back. The girl slammed against the kitchen counter. Josey knew that must have hurt, but Trish showed no sign of alarm. She continued, working a fist into Trish from behind. She clutched her hot, contracting muscles.

 Trish’s naked body pummeled the counter. Her whimpers became screams and then shrieks. Josey’s arm was erect and unrelenting. Her other arm supported Trish’s heaving torso and her fingers wrapped around Trish’s open, hot mouth.

 Trish became silent as her body was flooded with a stiffness that demanded release. Josey softly kissed Trish’s hot neck and told her to come. Trish’s body tightened and turned beet red as she released a white fluid that ran down Josey’s arm. One after another her spasms slowly receded. After what seemed hours of pure ecstasy, Josey removed her cramping hand to lightly massage the woman’s purpling thighs.

 Josey was catching her breath when Trish fell to the ground. The breathless girl knelt before her, undoing Josey’s khakis and exposing her white panties. A flash of fear struck Josey, fear that Trish would find her juices smelled bad, or worse, unwomanly.

 Trish noticed Josey’s body become rigid as she moved closer to taste her pussy. Instead of pausing, Trish placed her tongue squarely in Josey’s overwhelmingly wet labia.

Every touch of her tongue felt like a promise. Trish drank from her like the women in the film drank from one another. Josey laid her head back and felt home rush in all around her. She let her eyes close as Trish opened her release valves and drank her pressures.

“Oh no! Did you cut yourself?” Josey pointed to Trish’s left leg. It was all Josey could do to not mother the pretty young woman before her moving languidly in an old t-shirt and skinny jeans. Trish looked down at the maroon liquid snake lacing her calf. “It’s nothing,” she replied as she set down a large laundry basket full of what looked like recyclables.

The women had become inseparable since their manicured affair. It all came with such ease that they barely noticed what was happening. When Trish’s parents kicked her out, Josey begged her to move into the spacious summer home. Together they fell into a quiet rhythm. The routine played out into roles that mimicked husbands, wives, siblings, or co-workers. But mostly they were collaborators and lovers.

They saw life through a similar lens. The lens was lavender in color and highlighted the tension between what was said and what wasn’t. They each appreciated words and the spaces between them. Enjoying silence, their conversations were like Quaker meetings. They worked well in proximity to one another and this was the key to their happiness.

Trish bit into a large peach, juicing her right palm and chin. Josey smiled and kissed her cheek clean. One of the movers took note of the intimate play between the two women and quickly looked away with erect pupils. This annoyed Trish and her eyes slanted towards the ground in growing anger. Josey quickly placed a hand on Trish’s hip and brought her close as the mover exited through the doorway.

“Thanks for having me. It’s pretty wonderful having breakfast in bed every day.”
Josey pulled in for a kiss. “Don’t ever leave.”
“Be careful what you wish for…” Trish backed away for a moment. “Hey, are you sure everything’s cool?”

Josey looked away for a split second. “I’m sure. Everything and everyone, including myself, is cool. But you’re the coolest.” Josey pulled her back in and kissed her softly. She didn’t like to talk about her other life, avoiding the subject as much as possible. Josey knew that her refusal was a wall between them, but she just didn’t feel ready. It wasn’t Trish that made her feel unsafe to share. It was her own inability to know what she wanted.

She was completely high off Trish, but she kept wondering, was it Trish or the newness of the situation? Was it only hot and fun because she was away from the real world? She didn’t trust herself to know what was best. But it was strange, how confident she felt with her new lover.

Confidence was a new feeling, and she didn’t trust that either.

Trish impressed Josey with her fearlessness. She was ageless in her optimism. She never shied away from the truth of any given situation and she didn’t sugarcoat a thing, other than Josey.

Trish touched and hungered and ate Josey like she was the last strawberry on earth. Josey suspected that they each felt a certain amount of anticipation and surprise and that that’s what made it work. They didn’t rely on external value or stereotypes to gauge their shared heat. They were just Hot. Moving away from her thoughts, she shifted subjects: “Want to make popcorn later?”

‘Making popcorn’ was code for watching porn, and it almost always ended in a steamy session somewhere around the house. Josey had some new ideas she wanted to try out. “How ’bout Kettle Corn tonight?”

“Whatever you want, I’m game.” Trish said, showing that famous half smile.

The third instalment follows next week..

You can order Cara Benedetto’s “Burning Blue” as an e-book on Amazon or iTunes

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