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Blue Sleighty

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An excerpt from, The Disappearance (#5)
By Blue Sleighty
Posted: Saturday, October 15, 2005
Last edited: Tuesday, August 07, 2007
This short story is rated "R" by the Author.
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Recent stories by Blue Sleighty
· Burning Cotton
· The World According to Bruno, The Shepherd
· Spider
· An excerpt from, Running Through The Hills
· An excerpt from, The Dull Surprise
· An excerpt from, My Liza
· The Retreat (#3)
           >> View all 12
Lesbian erotica with a plot! #5 (the conclusion)in "The Blues Singer" series. Read them in sequence!
An Excerpt From: THE DISAPPEARANCE by Blue Sleighty © 2007 My Secret Obsession THIS IS AN ADULT STORY WITH ADULT THEMES DEPICTING LESBIAN SEXUAL ACTS. Austin, Texas is the home of outstanding creativity. Great minds retreat there to remain unshackled and left to explore and practice in their naturally drawn curiosities. Hungry souls seeking knowledge and 'refusing the bit', artists and craftsmen of all genres and mediums reside there as living efforts of brave and courageous self expression. The concentration of intelligence, creativity and talent is powerful. It will make your volt meter register, your geiger counter crackle, and your level go about half a bubble off plumb. The spirit of Texas is not a slogan made up by some marketing company. The spirit of Texas involves energy, attitude, and a state of mind. The integrity is there, it's just hard to trust when found within an otherwise cocky and rebellious nature. And, you either like it, or you don't.Austin, the capital of Texas, is an important historical Texas city in the beautiful Hill Country. It is also the home of great music and Texas blues. And some great Texas blues CLUBS. It's a party mecca, with it's famous SIXTH street, and other excellent night life and music venues abounding in the city.Bette, my girlfriend, was a blues singer, and was about to play two musical engagements in Austin, as scheduled on her 17 city tour.We had met and fell in love during a less complicated time, a few years before, when Bette also lived in Houston, where I currently lived. Bette sang with a successful blues band that played the Gulf Coast area from Texas to Florida. And, we booked Bette often at the club where I worked as assistant manager. I developed a huge" fan" crush on her, and she found out about how I felt about her. To my surprise, she was interested in me. We became lovers. She shared with me my first serious lesbian experience. We were together for 18 wonderful months. But, Bette's father, who was an ambitious Missouri politician, disapproved, and made Bette move back home to Missouri, where he could have her watched, because it was a sin, and he feared for her soul. He didn't understand it, and it was disgusting. He didn't think his career could handle the scandal of her lesbian lifestyle. It rubbed reversely against his republican beliefs, ruffling his coarse stiff right pointing quills. And, so forth. He was going to make certain that we could not be together. Because it was wrong, wrong, wrong. At least my parents were pretty peaceful about it. Not in any way accepting. But, peaceful. They just ignored the fact that I slept with women, and treated all of "the women I drug up" as they would any friend of mine. Which was perfectly adequate, I thought. I didn't hang out with them much, anyway.As a natural result of her father forbidding us to see each other, Bette and I started sneaking around to be together. Even though we now lived in different states.Bette was scheduled to perform for two nights in Austin, Texas while her band was on tour. Bette's tour had begun when she left St. Louis, where she now lived and was employed by a popular club as the singer of their house band. The first performance scheduled on her tour was in Chicago. Then they went to Nashville, Atlanta, and on to Key West. Rented a tour bus in Key West, and then drove on to Miami, Fort Lauderdale, Daytona Beach, and Tampa. Then they flew to Mobile, Jackson, and New Orleans. They got another tour bus in New Orleans for the rest of the tour for multiple night engagements, in Lafayette, Houston, Austin, San Antonio, Dallas, Oklahoma City, and then back home again, the slow way. They would play in Kansas City, (Missouri, of course) and Jefferson before their homecoming in St. Louis.I had met Bette secretly in New Orleans, and Bette had rented a car claiming to be weary of the tour bus, so that we could ride together for a few of the cities on the tour, and in need of some time to take care of some personal matters.We thought that we had escaped the watchful eye of Bette's father- but, apparently not. The night we arrived back in Houston, someone broke into my apartment with the intention of convincing me that I needed to stop seeing Bette. I don't know what he would have done, had I not awakened to discover him in my living room, stumbling through my apartment in the dark. But, even though I managed to render him vulnerable by holding him at gun point, and making him take his clothes off, and prevented an attack, or whatever he had planned for me- he had made his point loud and clear. I needed to stay away from the girl. Bette's father had sent him to tell me so, and to make sure that I understood in no uncertain terms.I let him go, fearing that the police would do more harm than good in this case. But, I kept his I.D. His name was Gary Elliott. He was 6' 3", 240 lbs. And, he had to spend several hours, I'm sure, running around in the middle of the night with no shirt, no wallet, and no car keys, because I kept those items when I let him go. I wondered if he remained free, or if security found him, after I anonymously called them from Bette's cell phone.Bette had slept through the whole thing. She was sleeping soundly in the bedroom behind closed doors, after a swim, a shower, and sex. And, many nights on tour singing in clubs until very late at night. Her exhaustion kept her unconscious through the entire ordeal, while I dealt with our uninvited guest.I didn't tell Bette about the warning. I was afraid I would upset her and possibly ruin her tour. So far, she did not suspect that her father was the type of man that would resort to such extreme measures to get his way. Bette had a lot at stake with this tour. I didn't want to upset her right now with any startling revealations about her old man, whose attention she craved, and approval she tried hard to get, but never received. And, now, it was evening. Bette was taking a shower. And, while she was busy, I was adding a brick to a black plastic bag with Mr. Elliott's shirt, wallet and car keys in it, and was about to sink it in the lake. I used black plastic hoping it would attract less attention if, for some reason, it resurfaced on the water. My apartment was right on the lake. I just loved it there. But, what I was about to do made me wonder how many other secrets that lake held within it's muddy shores. I decided to cut his I.D. into a couple of hundred tiny pieces, and bury it in several different flower beds around the apartments, after I got rid of the bag. I had the pieces of the I.D. in a little plastic medicine bottle in my pants pocket. I walked a short distance around the lake, to the nearest fishing pier. My friends had partied like fools on this pier many times. I smiled at a vivid recollection of my friend Lisa lying on her back on the boardwalk, while Glenda, a fellow employee from the bar where I worked poured a stream of peppermint schnapps into her open mouth. Animals. I smiled at the memory, and looked forward to the next time. I walked out to the end of the dark pier. It was about 150 feet long. I looked all around, to see if anyone was looking. I spied the parking areas. I checked out the windows of the facing apartments. Balconies. I surveyed every inch of my surroundings. And, when I was satisfied that I was unobserved, I gave the bag a shot-put style launch, and sent the bag and it's contents on a short flight before it crashed into the water and sank to the bottom of Spring Lake. Splash.It was late fall. It got dark by 6:00 P.M. And, there was no moon overhead. I walked back down the pier, my deck shoes clomping on the boards. I reached into the pocket of my khakis, and found the little bottle containing the slivers of the now shredded I.D. that I had taken from Mr. Elliott. Back at the shore end of the pier, I took the long way back to my apartment, kicking divits into the dirt in the flower beds along the way, adding a few random slivers of plastic from the shredded card, and then smoothing the loose soil back in place again with my shoe.After I had finished getting rid of the evidence, I was just a few steps away from the stairs to my balcony. And, hopefully, that was the end of THAT. Bette was drawing the blinds, when I walked in. "Where were you?" she asked absently, as she towelled her hair. Her dark, coarse hair dried quickly. The back of her red satin robe was damp. She was scheduled to sing at the club where I worked in just three hours. We normally left the blinds open to enjoy the view of the lake, but Bette was dressing, and she tended to run around the whole apartment, rather than containing the task to one room.Bruce Cockburn was singing "Waiting for a Miracle"."I was just walking around the lake. It seems like we've been inside an awful lot, lately." "I thought you enjoyed our indoor sports," Bette moved into my arms, smiling and kissed me. She smelled so nice and clean. Her mouth was fresh, and still tingly with mouthwash. "I saw you on the pier, out there from the window."Oh, shit, I thought to myself. I fought the urge to pull back, and look searchingly into her eyes, wondering what she might have seen. I kissed her like I was innocent. Hopefully she would take my pounding heartbeat as a compliment. I remained calm, and decided that the sky was too dark for Bette to have seen me toss the evidence of last night's visitor over the rail of the pier from here. There were no lights on at the pier when I did that. I relaxed."Yes. It's nice out." I dismissed her casual observation, and kissed her more through my whispers, enjoying her tongue, and her warm soft lips and the heat spreading between my thighs. The air was scented with Bette's perfume. A vanilla candle added a warm glow to the otherwise dark room.I just wanted to hold Bette close, and love her and kiss her forever. I loved her. She was so talented and focused. She handled her career very intelligently, I thought. So many musicians and singers are so self centered that they never make it simply because they have no discipline, no business skills, and no one to help them do the tedious part of promoting them. Negotiations, marketing, budgeting, scheduling, promotions and other aspects of career management are very time consuming, and most artists preferred to focus on their art. Not business details. But, Bette had a handle on both ends. I found that to be very impressive. And, Bette was a little older than me. Not that it made much difference. We were still very young. The fact that she loved me made me feel like I was must be pretty special, though.She was beautiful. Men and women alike told her all of the time how attractive she was. She oozed sensuality onstage, and off. I craved her. It was so tempting to flaunt our relationship. We even looked good together. I fought a feeling of doom in the pit of my stomach, and focused my attention on the excitement building inside of me, and the tenderness that I felt for her inside my heart at that moment.She was going to be hard to give up. I shut those thoughts out of my mind for the time being.Bette's smooth red satin robe parted a little, and I could feel her rough, black bush scratch against the fabric of my khaki slacks. Bette unbuckled my belt, and then my waistband, letting my slacks fall. I stepped from my shoes, one at a time, leaving them under the pile of fabric that once was my starchy, pressed, khaki pants. My feet were bare on the soft, thick carpet. In my high cut panties, and white muscle shirt, I left things where they lie. Tracy Chapman sang in the back ground, "........Give me one reason to stay here,And I'll turn right back around.Give me one reason to stay here,And I'll turn right back around.Because I don't wanna leave you lonely,But you got to make me change my mind."I untied Bette's sash and opened the front of her robe. I moved against her, feeling the springy hair of her pubic mound against my soft skin at the top of my thigh. I put a hand on each of her hips, and pulled her pelvis against me, pressing our bodies together, before I turned her towards the sofa.I lay gently beside her, and we nestled down into the soft velvety cushions. Facing each other, smiling slightly, and looking into each other's eyes, we kissed absently. We looked for, and found signs of love in each other's dilated, lid draped pupils. I found her robe with one hand, and drew it back, exposing her smooth, hard body. I caressed and stroked her skin, running my warm hands over the length of her long, muscular frame. Bette stretched, and purred, almost like a cat, turning onto her back. I laughed a little, and kissed her, my tongue finding hers, touching softly, sucking and nibbling, while I felt her rippled abdomen under my sliding hand. My fingers found her black curls, just beyond."Mmmm, Blue," Bette moaned and parted her thighs allowing my searching fingers to find the wetness that now accumulated in the folds of her labia. With dampened fingertips, I slipped my fingers over her sensitive swollen clit.My mouth found Bette's erect nipple. I sucked it into my mouth, pulling my head back as I rolled it in my mouth with my hardened, teasing tongue, pushing the sensitive skin against my sharp front teeth. Bette's eyes were closed. She lay with one hand curled beside her face, and one arm thrown back across the soft velvet cushions, enjoying the attention that I gave her.I dropped to the floor beside her, sitting with my calves against the backs of my thighs, I pulled her hips forward, and over, so that she was positioned along the edge of the sofa. She drew her knees back. I leaned towards her aligning myself to reach her most intimate parts, now wet with her juices. I wrapped my arms around her hips and drew my mouth near her hot, waiting pussy.I parted her lips with my thumbs, and rested my hands on the bottom of her buttocks, at the backside of her thighs. My mouth found her other sweet wet lips and Bette moaned as I sucked the fleshy folds of her cunt into my mouth. She ran her fingers through my long satin blond hair, rubbing it's silkiness against her bare thighs and stomach. She writhed her hips, forcing herself against my mouth. My tongue became a point, and found her tight hole, and then slipped up to her hard clit. Then I flattened my tongue against the entire length of her clit's shaft, and moved it firmly up and down. I moved it in a slight sweep, playing with her flesh, and very lightly passing a satiny wet swirl over her screaming bud under her clit's fleshy hood. Soon, I licked her in an unrelenting hot, sliding circle, stroking with steady pressure against her clit. As I continued my slow sensual assault on Bette's cunt with my tongue, I moved my fingers towards her tight hole, and wet them with her juices. Bette exhaled sharply, and then sucked in a breath as I coaxed my fingers inside of her, first one, and then two, as I still moved my tongue against her. I pushed deeply inside of her, feeling her ridged walls clasp my intruding fingers in a vice like grip. I wondered how a cock could ever fit into such a tight place.I slid one wet finger out of her pussy, and found the tight little pucker that was her asshole. I slipped in slowly, and easily, just up to the knuckle, then back out, and then in all of the way, one finger in her ass, and one in her cunt. Bette cried out and planted one foot down on the edge of the sofa. She moved her hips up and down, forcing my fingers in and out of her. She put one hand behind my head, pulling me tighter against her, as she fucked me, coming against my mouth. I felt spasms twitching inside of her ass and her cunt at the same time, as her orgasm throbbed through her, and her muscles gripped me in strong but weakening rhythmic convulsions.I always felt like I had done something fantastic when I made her come. I suddenly felt like I was going to cry, as the thought crossed my mind that the time may come soon when I would never see her again. Released from our gripping passion, I moved back and looked at her blissful afterglow. Lips slightly swollen. Face flushed. Hair disheveled. Bathed in the blue darkness. I fought back tears. And then, for some reason, Bette said, "No matter what, Blue, I'll never forget you, and I will always love you."     

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Reviewed by Sage Sweetwater
The strong introduction sets this story apart from all other lesbian erotica that I have read. You just don't see descriptions of location and a brief geographical background present in lesbian erotica. This is why Blue Sleighty is at the top of her genre. The first two brief paragraphs enhances the story and sets the mood.

From a cinematic standpoint, this story has an incredible plotline. Blue has tapped into the political arena here by way of lesbian erotica that has a very strong, worthy element of cross-over to Lesbian-Movie-of-the Week. Talent, we call it! It's like Blue said, "You either like it, or you don't. I do!


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