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Blue Sleighty

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· Right To Remain Silent

· Ducking Out

· Blue's Singer AKA Roadkill Heart

· My Secret Obsession Erotic Lesbian Stories, Volume II

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Short Stories
· Burning Cotton

· The World According to Bruno, The Shepherd

· Spider

· Kat. The Texas Cyclone.

· The Texas Tornado

· An excerpt from, Running Through The Hills

· An excerpt from, The Dull Surprise

· An excerpt from, The Disappearance (#5)

· The Blues Singer (#1)

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· Blue Sleighty on Recycling

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· An Eternal Flame


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An excerpt from, My Liza
By Blue Sleighty
Posted: Friday, October 28, 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 Disappearance (#5)
· An excerpt from, The Dull Surprise
· The Retreat (#3)
           >> View all 12
EXCERPT: Suddenly, Liza pulled off of the freeway. She took a quick exit, and drove down the feeder street into a parking lot that was empty. It was still only 6:30 in the morning. Few people were out, yet. She threw her Corvette, 'Scarlet' into park, and turned to me and said, "kiss me Blue."

"Uh. What?" I wasn't ready for a request like that, and certainly not from Liza. We had lived together for over two years, and although we often snuggled when we watched television, and gave each other hot oil massages, I never entertained the thought of sex with Liza. I just never let myself go there.

"Kiss me."

"Are you insane, honey?"

"I've been thinking about it for a long time. And, I've had such a great time with you, last night, and today. And, last night- all of your friends thought we were together. You know that, don't you?"

I hadn't really thought about it. I guessed she may have been correct.

"Just kiss me."
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An excerpt from, MY LIZA , by Blue Sleighty © July 25, 2007

The bar business had treated Ken Carpenter very well. He had a knack for it, and with dumb luck upon opening The Blue Note Club, Ken became surrounded by talented people wanting to ride his "gravy train". This furthered his amazing success. Because Ken could discern between who could do him some good, and who could not, and formed solid relationships with those who could help him. I was, for more years than I care to admit, one of his loyal employees. Ken knew that I was a necessary part of his company. I was resourceful, creative, hard working, and his insanely jealous wife wasn't jealous of me, because she knew that while I was great looking- I was also a lesbian, and had no sexual or romantic interest in Ken. It was strictly business.Truth be told- one time Ken and I did try to have sex together. More than once, even. But we were both so bored with that side of each other, that we fell asleep. However, it formed a secret bond, and humor between us that was never broken. Although, outwardly, we played up a theatrical dislike for each other. It was an added attraction to the casual observer, who frequented Ken's clubs. Like a soap opera, no one could WAIT to see what happened, next. Times are always wild in Texas, but the oil boom brought a new meaning to decadence. LIFE was abundant. Money flowed in what seemed to be an endless stream. People moved here from all over the world to take advantage of what seemed to be limitless opportunity. And, with this new found wealth, many people explored a side of themselves that they never even knew existed, until life in Texas afforded them too much slack. Money brings freedom. Freedom to do whatever one wants to do. And that can be a bad thing.In my opinion, many people need the confinement that being "broke", (financially challenged) imposes. Financial limitations are nature's way of making sure that people that can't handle it, stay safe from themselves. Facts supporting this opinion can be found in the TEN FOLD increase in admissions to chemical dependency units at comprehensive psychiatric hospitals in the gulf coast area in the days after the oil boom. Rehab became the next big business. And, I think everyone knew what a 12 step program was.Although Ken indulged himself in every way, he still managed to be successful. I think his wife, Kathleen would have left him or killed him, had it not been for all of his money. She was a stunningly beautiful woman. I'm certain that Ken, in his way, considered her a treasure, but, as it was, he spent a ton of money replacing what Kathleen destroyed during her jealous rampages. Ken was not discreet in his philandering. He enjoyed showing off and being a big shot. He loved the things that money could buy. And, he did not much try to resist the attention that was lavished on him, or try to brush off the "pretty young things" that tended to cling to his jacket as he ambled along, even though he knew the price he would ultimately have to pay when Kathleen found out. And, judging by the debris, I would have to deduce that not much got past Kathleen. Everyone wanted to be Ken's friend, though, and Ken's ego loved it. And, I guess the ever looming wrath of Kathleen just did not outweigh his ego's need for "juice". Every time Kathleen heard that Ken was in the company of another woman, Kathleen would go straight for his wallet. She would either find a way to get into Ken's bank account, and make an ENORMOUS purchase, or she would go on a tirade of destruction, devastating everything within her path that she knew Ken would be financially responsible for. She took baseball bats to liquor bottles on many occasions in his clubs. She cut the lines on the beer taps. She slashed every tire on every car in the parking lot of the Blue Note Club, one night. And, then, there was the entire boxed case of flourescent orange spray paint incident. Very unfortunate for all who chose to park in that parking lot on that night.On more than one occasion, Kathleen did both. The bank account AND the club. She went to the local Chevrolet dealership one time, paid cash for a brand new Corvette with Ken's money, and then she drove that shiny, new car right through the club's front door, demolishing the car, and causing thousands of dollars in damage to the club. All of that, because she heard that Ken was sitting at a table with a female. Fortunately, no one was hurt that night. That was not the only time that Kathleen drove a vehicle through a night club. She was famous for it. And, sometimes the night club didn't even belong to Ken. The Blue Note Club had earned Ken a fortune. And, with the oil boom in full swing, Ken decided to open another club. The Blue Note Club was a very popular club. It was always packed, and Ken raked in money. But, with the oil boom came a trend towards country music, and all things Texan. So, Ken decided to capitalize on that trend, and opened a country and western themed night club. It wasn't long before I was sent to help out with the organization of Ken's newly opened club, The King of Clubs. Was that a stupid name, or what? But Ken loved that double entendre. Go figure.My girlfriend at the time, Bette, a popular blues singer, had recently ripped my heart out, and ran off with a rich guy, who also happened to be her new bass player. My spirit, and my heart was broken, and I could no longer stand the sight of her. Ken still liked to book her band at The Blue Note Club, as she was a favorite there, and otherwise very popular in the Gulf Coast and the Mid-West. So, I welcomed a change of scenery, and the chance to get the hell away from there and avoid seeing Bette, even though I have never been a big fan of country music.As Ken's assistant, I was to meet with the new staff of the new "King of Clubs" and go over operations, schedule the staff's working hours, try to get an average of the daily sales, and pour costs up to that point, and estimate a liquor order sufficient enough to last us through the weekend, which was the busiest time for the club, until the next week. I rolled up in there at 4:00 P.M. on a Monday. The club had opened the Monday, before. I chose that time of day thinking that the club would not be very bust at that time. I was incorrect. The parking lot was packed. But, nothing compared to what I saw when I opened the front door.I entered the front door, and took a look around. A blast of cold air hit me, followed by familiar smells. The place was a zoo. It may as well have been midnight. At four in the afternoon, they were in full swing. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the light. When they did, I could see that everyone was having a great time. I could smell the new wood and paint through the cigarettes and beer. There were neon signs everywhere, and the walls were paneled in corrugated tin. Like a barn. There was a DJ booth high above the dancefloor at one end, closest to the bar, and the bathrooms, and a stage on the other end of the large dancefloor. I estimated that the club would easily seat 200 people, and just about every seat was taken. People were two deep at the bar.Willie Nelson was singing "You Were Always On My Mind" from the speakers. I could make out three figures in the DJ booth, heads together, sorting through music.The dancefloor was packed. Boots were scootin' in perfect time to each other, and big silver beltbuckles gleamed from the polishing they were receiving, rubbing closely against the fabric of dance partner's clothing as they danced just a little too close. Sex was in the air. All hetero, I estimated, but sex nonetheless. The bartender was steadily pouring drinks, and punching keys on the register. The waitresses had orders waiting to be filled, and stood, waiting anxiously in the waitress station, shifting their eyes between the bartender, and their section of the club. I felt bad for them. I knew how it was to get chewed out by impatient jerks when, through no fault of your own, it took more time than the customers were comfortably willing to wait to get their drinks to them. It also affected their tips. And the tips were what the waitresses were there for. Certainly NOT for the "perks" and "bennies". I couldn't help but notice, though, that the waitresses were all damned good looking. I was impressed with the firm, round asses, clad in tight jeans, and the cleavage that I saw that day. It was a sight to behold. And, certainly a draw for the male club patrons.I realized after my initial observation, that the wait staff was having a hard time keeping up, and the best thing for me to do would be to help the poor bartender. She was a mousy little thing when I met her that day, (she later blossomed) but, boy, she could crank out some drinks! I stepped up to the register, and got her attention.I extended my hand to her, and introduced myself. "Hi. I'm Blue. My name, that is, is Blue. Blue Sleighty. Ken sent me over here to see if there was anything that I could do for you. I'm Ken's assistant manager.""I'm Ellen. I'm a little busy," she said apologetically, and backed up the sincerity of her tone with the 'hang dog' look in her eyes. And, then she looked at me with a look of sheer panic, eyes wide, and taking it much too seriously in my opinion.. Ellen had a thick southern drawl. Maybe Mississippi. Maybe Alabama. Definitely not Texas. I guessed we would get to THAT information, later. Her hair was thin, and stringy. The color was not blond, and not brown. And, judging by the lack of shine, I think she probably washed it with soap rather than shampoo.I walked around behind the bar, and checked out how things were going for her. She was just about out of clean glasses. I started opening beer coolers, and saw that she was seriously in need of a restock. I familiarized myself with the setup of the bar, and the stock areas and sinks. I washed Ellen's glasses and hung them in the overhead glass racks above the bar where the waitresses waited for their drink orders, found some cases of beer in a large cooler in a stockroom behind the bar area, and restocked the beer boxes behind the bar. I checked her speed racks, and replaced her empty liquor bottles, and then changed her near-empty soft drink syrup canisters that supplied her soda gun.I waited on the customers who were sitting at the bar, or just standing, impatiently waiting for service, and let Ellen handle the drink orders from the waitresses at the well. Soon, the waitresses were back on track, and Ellen was caught up enough to have a little bit of conversation, after she went for a much needed visit to the bathroom.Upon her return, our conversation began, "it's always like this. I don't understand how Ken does it, but the place is packed from 11:00 AM, until we close it down at 2:00 A.M."At the exact moment that Ellen finished explaining all of that, a flash of gold caught my eye, in an otherwise dark room. I turned my head to follow the unexpected stimulus. Stimulus was the correct word, here. And gold was an understatement. I understood what was drawing the crowd, as soon as I saw that girl at the well. Ellen saw my response, and said, with a good natured snort, "Let me introduce you to Liza."Liza was, without hesitation in saying so, the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen. I realized instantly that she had to be underage. She was a hard worker, and she was beautiful, and the men lined up to be in her presence. She dressed for success, wearing skin tight jeans, and low cut t-shirts that showed plenty of cleavage created by large, firm breasts, and were cropped short enough to show her midriff. I stared for a moment in disbelief, both at her beauty, and my estimation of what her age must have been. I decided that she and I needed to have a little conversation, RIGHT then."Liza?" I waited for her eyes to meet mine.Liza looked at me and smiled, flashing perfect white teeth from within a wide smile, outlined by full, cupid's bow lips. I made the "come here" sign with a wiggle of my finger, and walked towards the office, turning to make sure that Liza was tagging along behind. She was.I sat on the business side of the desk, and Liza had a seat across from me in the "hot seat". She sat back comfortably with a mischevious little grin on her face. My eyes kept being drawn to her cleavage, even though I fought like hell not to do that. I HATED it when I couldn't stop myself from looking. Liza, of course, noticed, and raised one eyebrow, smirking at me.I rolled my eyes at her, blinked hard a few times, and shook my head. I took a deep breath and sighed. "My name is Blue. Blue Sleighty. I am Ken Carpenter's assistant, and he has transferred me from the Blue Note Club, to here. I am now your boss. And, unless you can produce some form of I.D. that says you are of age to work in a night club, I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go."I would have found a way to terminate her for her own good, but Liza told me her desperate story, AND produced an I.D. that stated she was 21. On further inspection, I decided that the picture was not really her, just someone that looked a lot like her. But, it would suffice. She admitted to me that it was her sister, Donna, who was in prison doing time under the name of Mary Smith. Processed into the system with no I.D. Liza REALLY needed a job, and I felt bad for her after she told me about her mother trying to keep it together for Liza, and her six siblings without her recently deceased husband who had died just long enough before, for Liza and her family to be feeling the repercussions, now. It sounded like complete bullshit to me, at first. But, it was true , I quickly learned with a call to Ken for confirmation. And, Ken knew her family very well, and insisted on employing Liza. I quickly became Liza's friend and one of her many protectors. And that friendship remains solid to this day. I let her slide, that day, not that Ken would have let me do otherwise, and she got right back to work. I got back to work behind the bar, and between Ellen and I, and Liza, we kept everything running like clockwork. We created a new system of organization that worked, that very first week. And, I found working at The King of Clubs to be a wonderful experience that introduced me to some wonderful people. People who have impacted my life forever. Especially Liza. Springtime in the Texas Hill Country brings a spectacular display of indescribable beauty.Something about the wildflowers, and the rugged geography cuts such an amazing contrast that every detail of one is accentuated by the other until every nook and cranny, every color and curve, and even the scent of the earth and flowers becomes an intense synthesis stirring the passion within even the most oblivious.A trip down I-10 through Texas at this time of year, late March, April and May is an unforgettable feast for the senses. It was a fine early morning in March two and a half years, and many oil boom dollars after our first meeting, that found Liza and I on an unexpected trip towards the hills.We had been very leisurely enjoying a cup of coffee after a late night, or, more accurately- early morning, plate of nachos, a couple of omelettes, and a slice of pecan pie (bet you can't guess what we'd been smoking). The night before, and until closing time at 2:00 a.m., we had been at my favorite bar, The G-Spot, dancing and talking with all of my friends. We had two days off, and we planned to spend them having a little fun. Right now, we were sitting in comfortable silence, eating, sipping coffee, and enjoying reading the local free publications.At the time that Liza and I first met, I was still in love with Bette. My heart still heavy with our recent breakup. And, Liza was a bit peeved when I became her boss, but quickly got over it, and became my best friend. And, until this day- she is STILL my best friend.Liza was four years younger than me. She learned early to profit from the attention that men gave her in the least exploitative way available to her at the time, with her unfinished and, at the time, limited education. The bar made her noticable, but not available. An object to be admired, but without serious one on one confrontation. She was off limits, except for a little conversation during slow periods. The rest of the time she had the protection of the bouncers, the floor manager and the security guards. And me. Liza had finished her high school education, with my insistence, and had become my roommate, at my apartment which was on a lake. I welcomed the company, it made getting over Bette pretty easy. After Bette, I concentrated on work, and completing my education. Which, in my estimation, never seemed to be complete. Going to school was my hobby. I was now going after my master's after achieving my bachelor's in art.Now, Liza was 21, and Liza's golden hair, big blue eyes and great body won her plenty of attention. I hate to use the term "ample bosom", but- I just can't think of another way to put it. Her breasts were beautiful. Their shape and size couldn't be ignored, and when she was naked, those lucky enough to enjoy the sight were treated with an unusual beauty mark on the left that was shaped just like a heart. When I first saw it, I thought it was a tattoo. But, I was invited for a closer inspection, and had it proven to me that the mark was a genuine natural phenomenon. The mark was positioned close to her armpit, and could only be enjoyed by those lucky enough to be chosen as worthy. And I was lucky. People loved to see us together. We were both blonde, and great looking. I had smaller breasts, but have/had a perfectly uniform body. Muscular, and toned with nice breasts and a perfect ass. We made a great team, and made plenty of money. Ken thought of us as assets, and cared for us and protected us accordingly. He was afraid to lose us, attributing the great success of The King of Clubs partially to us, and our good looks, and business savvy. We lived the good life, courtesy of Ken Carpenter.As I finished my cup of coffee, Liza looked at me, waiting for me to proclaim that one my last cup. I put it down, and picked the check up off of the table. It was four thirty in the morning, by the clock on the wall above the register at Charlie's Diner, which was adjacent to the G-Spot. Liza sometimes tagged along with me to the G-Spot, now that she was 21. She didn't date often, although she was constantly courted by a never ending stream of men. She really didn't go out much, concentrating instead on getting her degree. Liza had decided to become a paralegal. She found it fascinating. She wanted to go into oil and gas law, lured by the exciting stories of the oil and gas employees who were our best customers at The King of Clubs- so she wanted a degree in business."I know, Blue!" Liza sputtered, as I absently groped around in my purse for my wallet, after inspecting our food check. "Let's go see the flowers!""OOOooo!!!" I looked up, wide eyed with enthusiasm. "Now, THAT'S a great idea! Let's blow this place, girl!" We threw down more than enough cash to cover the bill, and ran, squealing, out the door, like two school girls. We WERE two school girls. Just a lot older than most of the squealing ones. Scarlet, Liza's 1959 classic Corvette convertible, was parked outside. The car was in mint condition, and everyone drooled over it. I loved riding in that car. It was, of course, bright scarlet red. It had diamond tufted red and white leather seats, and a white convertible top. Liza's father had bought the car as a gift to his little fifteen year old daughter, before he died, five and a half years before. He bought it because it matched Liza's toenail polish, and he loved to count her "piggies" when she was a little girl. Liza was the apple of her father's eye. Her sister, who was doing time in prison, right now, under an alias, was loved by the man, too, but had fallen into a bad crowd, and ran away from home right after her father's death. Liza's mother Addy, was torn apart from all of the stress and drama.Liza's father had a funeral home, and was a mortician. He had made a lot of money, but, he had not planned on dying so young and unprepared. Debt had taken most of the insurance money that he had left his large family. A mortgage on their large home, unsecured credit that Liza's mother was forced to pay off, and a multitude of other details that seven children could create. It was heartbreaking. I had grown very fond of Liza's family. And, I was grateful for their acceptance of me into their fold, and to Liza for being so forgiving of my own weird family, and of my sexual proclivities. (Which weren't exercised much since Bette's departure, anyway.)"The sun should be coming up about the time we get to the Hill Country," Liza remarked, grinning from ear to ear."Yes, and we will beat the Monday morning rush hour, if we get out of town, now," I added, feeling sorry for those that worked nine to five, as I opened the solid door on Scarlett, the most badassed roadster I had ever seen. Riding in Scarlet was a priveledge. My heart thumped when I took a seat within her. I drove a blue truck. For many years, I drove an old blue beaten-up retired ranch truck that my father had given me, but, now, Ken had made sure that I had a brand new vehicle. Probably so that he could be certain that there would never be any delay of me reporting to work, and so that I could be at his beckoning call anytime he needed something HAULED. The truck was still blue, though. It had become my trademark.Overhead, the Texas sky shone big and bright in the wee hours of the morning. Stars twinkled overhead. Scarlet's engine rumbled grumpily upon starting her, but then quickly idled into a sweet purr that was almost unnoticable, except for a faint vibration that played upon one's inseam, causing a stir of sexual stimulation, when combined with the overall effect that Scarlet's beautiful design brought to the eye of her passengers. The bass pounded heavily from her custom stereo, and Liza slid a favorite cassette tape into Scarlet's recently installed tape player. Tom Petty. Damn the Torpedoes. We looked at each other with big, smiling, approval and sang along with "Don't Do Me Like That", raising pointed fingers to the air to accentuate the meaning. As Scarlet rolled past the miles, and Liza and I enjoyed the music cranked out by her new car stereo, the sun began to rise. And, as God turned the lights on, a carpet of incredible color became the unignorable focus of anyone who happened to be traveling on the freeway that day. Red-orange Indian Paintbrushes, Bluebonnets of cobalt blue, pink Primroses, yellow Blackeyed Susans, red Butterfly Weeds, Indian Blanket, with their yellow and burnt orange petals, purple Texas Mountain Laurel, with their red halluginogenic beans, and white Prickly Poppies, which stung the skin like the dickens with their nettles, colored the landscape like really busy wall to wall carpet. It was too beautiful to describe- just like ALL Texas Springs.Suddenly, Liza pulled off of the freeway. She took an exit, and drove down the feeder street into a parking lot that was empty. It was still only 6:30 in the morning, few people were on the road, and none near that parking lot. She threw Scarlett into park, and turned to me and said, "kiss me, Blue.""Uhh?. What?" What the hell? I wrinkled my forehead with a puzzled look. I wasn't ready for a request like that, and certainly not from Liza. We had lived together for over two years, and although we often snuggled when we watched television, and gave each other hot oil massages, I never, EVER, entertained the thought of sex with Liza. I just never let myself go there."Kiss me.""Are you out of your fucking mind, honey?" I snorted, and leaned back against the car door, studying her face for a hint of what was truly going on in her mind."I've been thinking about it for a long time, Blue. And, I've had such a great time with you, last night, and today. And, last night- all of your friends thought we were together. You know that, don't you?" I hadn't really thought about it. I guess she may have been correct."Just kiss me."I thought it was an odd idea. She was beautiful, and sexy, and I could taste her lips as my head told me "no". I knew she was a grown woman, now. I worried a little about what it would do to our friendship.Hesitantly, I leaned towards her, and very slowly we closed the gap between us, our lips meeting gently, with a soft, weak smack. But, a lingering space, afterwards, with only a millimeter between us, as our thoughts collected, didn't do much to distance our sudden rush of feelings which overtook any self control that we had possessed, and we found ourselves kissing hungrily and passionately. Heat enveloped me. My heart pounded, and excitement ignited between my thighs. Liza took my hand and placed it between her legs. I found her crotch through her tight jeans already dampened, telling me that she had been thinking about this for a while before she acted. I rubbed my hand up and down the thick seam of her jeans that ran tightly against her sweet little mound, and squeezed gently, before pulling back to look into her big blue eyes. She smiled at me, and winked. I laughed softly. and shook my head with a sigh.We were, by then, about 120 miles out of town. The Hill Country was a part of Texas that I knew very well. My father had a ranch there, and we were not far from it. We could be there in 30 minutes."Baby.""Yes, Blue," Liza moved back into my reach for another kiss, and whispered into my mouth, her eyes searching mine."Let ME drive."   

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 My Secret Obsession

Web Site: My Secret Obsession  

Reader Reviews for "An excerpt from, My Liza"

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Reviewed by Poetess of The Soul Sheila G 5/4/2009
I will always love your writing and erotic desire of your style Blue!
What you said about money, I always thought and didn't know, anyone else felt that way, it does retrain us ( in a perfect safe place) when one does not have it, or an abundance of it!
Your writing flair gets better and BETTER with time, effort, patience and experience! WRITE ON!
I enjoy!

Warmest Blessings of Love, Light, Peace and Hugs, Warrior Purple Lady SHEExooo

Stay Positive!
Reviewed by Sage Sweetwater 10/28/2005
It would take a gorgeous Texas lesbian to write this story, and one did, Blue ... Blue Sleighty. As far as I am concerned, Blue is the road map to lesbian erotica. She knows her way around this genre. She gives good directions, takes us off the pavement once in a while, cools us off in the water, and she NEVER gets us lost, a woman who knows her area. The thing I find most alluring is her spontaneity in which she totally takes us on an erotic road carnival and when you think you're on the Ferris wheel, she turns you on to the roller coaster. She delivers her stories with plot and passion. Thanks Blue.


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My Secret Obsession Erotic Lesbian Stories, Volume I

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