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    L-Word C-Word: Lesbian Adventure Club, #8
    L-Word C-Word: Lesbian Adventure Club, #8
    L-Word C-Word: Lesbian Adventure Club, #8
    Ebook205 pages5 hours

    L-Word C-Word: Lesbian Adventure Club, #8

    By Rosalyn Wraight

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    About this ebook

    Christmas comes to the Lesbian Adventure Club. But don't expect ladies dancing or maids a-milking. No, try hookers, cookers, bridge trolls, and keepers of the place to pee. After all, it is July.

    Lesbian Adventure Club, Book 8

    Approximate word count: 52,000

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDon't Waste Daylight
    Release dateAug 21, 2019
    ISBN9781932014457
    L-Word C-Word: Lesbian Adventure Club, #8

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      L-Word C-Word - Rosalyn Wraight

      Chapter 1

      Extra pickles, too, Molly! I yelled across the dimly lit bar as instructed.

      I wasn’t sure I had ever been in a bar at eight-thirty in the morning. I was, however, absolutely certain that I had never requested pickles from frickin’ anyone at eight-thirty in the morning—except for maybe the time at Drixel’s Terrace when a sanguinary humdinger brine proved essential. Even so, you get my drift. I was a coffee chick, maybe a donut dame if chocolate icing whispered my name just so. But not pickles. Jesus, not pickles!

      I aimed my behind at the booth, but before I could complete the motion, Ginny’s voice rang out.

      Kate, steal the bottle of ketchup from that booth over there. She pointed like a dart that probably sailed across the barroom last night. Our table didn’t get any. We need ketchup.

      Ketchup! I hated ketchup with a passion. And I hated ketchup with a frickin’ nth-degree passion at eight-thirty in the morning.

      Didn’t I just say it was eight-thirty in the morning? Forgive me. Reporters should not repeat themselves, but this reporter hasn’t had more than a sip of coffee. My brain is sputtering. It is, after all, eight-thirty in the morning. And speaking of which, did you know that bar coffee is not good coffee? It’s sludgy yet still undefined. You’d know that if you’d ever been to a bar at eight-thirty in the morning. You haven’t, have you? I never have, at least not until today and maybe that day at Drixel’s Terrace when—

      Kate! Ginny yelled. Hello! Grab the ketchup, dear!

      Oh yeah, the ketchup. I hated ketchup—

      Kate! Claudia swatted me back to the real world. Get the ketchup, honey, and get back here. Drink your coffee. I don’t think you’re awake yet.

      I wasn’t? Well, that sure explained a lot of things. It felt kind of surreal. Maybe I was still at home in bed, having a damn confusing dream to boot. Except Claudia wouldn’t be sitting in a booth; she’d be next to me. Snuggling. Perhaps more than snuggling. Oh, wow! I closed my eyes and willed it so.

      Kate! This time Alison swatted me. Do you want me to get the ketchup?

      Oh yeah, the ketchup! I acknowledged. I’ll get the ketchup.

      I did so and finally got to park my behind in the booth.

      With a smile that bordered on a laugh, Claudia slid my coffee cup to me, and I seized it.

      What’s wrong, Kate? Holly asked. Didn’t you get enough sleep last night?

      While I slugged the bar sludge, Claudia answered, We overslept. She didn’t get any coffee before we flew out the door. Her hand came over and stroked my bare calf.

      Bottoms up, Kate, Janice said, holding her own cup in front of me. I’ll buy the next round.

      I clinked my cup with hers and then drank as Kris slid the coffee carafe in our direction. The sound of my cup being topped off made me hopeful that the haze in my head would thin.

      Their conversation turned to the prior workweek. I tuned them out and surveyed the joint. An older gentleman sat at the end of the bar, nursing a mug of the matted mutt that bit him. Another man read the Granton Journal, and when my mind imagined him coming over to ask me to autograph it, I knew at least the nonsense factory within me was up and running. Life, the cognizance kind, slowly began.

      I looked to the front window. Christmas lights framed a heavy gray day. For me, Christmas ranked right up there with early morning pickles and anytime ketchup. I was not a fan. But today was not Christmas. Today proved far, far better: a Lesbian Adventure Club day. That knowledge awakened yet another part of me; my anticipatory gland contracted and squirted, mingling its good stuff with lifeblood that was slowly being caffeinated.

      I returned my attention back to the booth and tried to get up to speed with the friendly chitchat. I did not get very far by the time Molly suddenly appeared tableside.

      You girls are crazy, she said, but here it is. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had the grill fired up this early. She set a platter in the middle of the table, rolled her eyes, and added, You owe me, Ginny.

      We lofted thanks in her direction as she scurried away. Then, we just stared at it. At eight-thirty in the morning, a frickin’ Mad Cow Burger on a bed of French fries stared back at us. It, at least, had the sense to still be in bed on a Saturday. Oh goodie, hamburger happened to be smarter than the lot of us.

      Kris held a stack of plates in front of Ginny, who was tasked with serving the big-ass burger Molly had cut like a pie. Even with it divided by eight, a formidable task loomed before us.

      When we each had burger pie-slice in hand, Alison held hers out and said, To a good DWD weekend!

      To a not-so-bad vegan weekend.

      Yes, the truth, the circumstances at hand, needed to be told. We prepared to head to Maggie and Susan’s, and this weekend would be the first we had ever had at either of their houses. Until now, they had dwelt separately and had taken us elsewhere. Together, they were eager to have us, but visions of non-refined sugarplums clumsily danced in our heads. We were fraidy cats, shoving burgers down our gullets, anxious about being carnivores trapped in an herbivore world. Or so we said.

      Maybe we’re overreacting, Laura proposed. Think about when we went camping. They still gave us the choice between regular hot dogs and those strangely colored vegan things.

      Yes, Alison concurred with a vehement nod. And think about Maggie’s coconut milk ice cream last time. That stuff was incredible! I even bought some at the store.

      You’re weakening, Alison, Holly said with a laugh. Hurry up and take a bite of your burger before you’re beyond help.

      And if Alison’s weakening, I bet Susan is already down for the count.

      I think we need to do an intervention on Susan.

      I agree.

      We’ll kidnap her and take her to Molly’s Taphouse and Treatment Center on Third.

      Good idea.

      I dared, I think you’re all full of baloney, not hamburger. When all eyes shot to me, I clarified, Not one of you thinks Maggie will hold us hostage in her vegan world. Remember when she said everyone is always accommodating—making sure Claudia has Earl and she has vegan stuff? Thinking she’d be anything less than accommodating is insane. She’s Maggie. Maggie loves us.

      Well, thank you, Kate, for ruining our little adventure! Holly thundered.

      What the hell does that mean? I rumbled right back.

      It means we all know Maggie isn’t going to shove tofu down our throats. But meeting secretly for burgers at the crack of dawn, well, it’s the DWD thing to do. And now you’ve ruined it, Kate.

      Yeah, you’ve sucked the fun right out of it.

      Yeah, Kate!

      Yeah, Sutter!

      Yeah, honey.

      Yeah, Kate.

      Yeah, Kate.

      Well, frickin’ excuse me! I said, laughing. I raised my hands in surrender and conceded, You’re right. I’m so very, very wrong. Maggie is actually the biggest shithead in the club. No doubt she’s at home shoving yucky vegetables in the juicer while Susan prepares little rice paper gift bags of soy nuts and wheat bran to give each of us at the door.

      Now you’re talking, Kate!

      Buns up, everybody!

      Burger pie-slices were held high and subsequently shoved into gaping, drooling pieholes. My piehole, however, neither gaped nor drooled. Instead, I finished my last slug of coffee and reached for the carafe ... only to find it empty.

      I excused myself and headed to the bar to request a refill. Molly informed me that a fresh pot was nearly ready. Figuring I’d wait it out, I sat on a barstool, and my eyes drifted into the humungous mirror behind the bar. I looked to the group of them in the big half-moon booth in the corner. And then I ogled Claudia.

      Not even an hour prior, I had awakened to her shrieking about us oversleeping, and that was so far from ordinary. On workdays, the alarm would wake us, and then we’d cuddle through two snooze alarms, three if I proved lucky. On weekends, we had a whole different ritual. One would turn on the coffee maker, set the kettle to boil, and grab the paper from the front step while the other brushed her teeth. Then, we’d reverse: one would get coffee and tea while the other brushed. That well-oiled machine would faithfully bring us back to bed or porch. There, we’d sip, she’d peruse the paper, and I’d receive unbridled permission to survey every inch of her. I’d marvel, as if forever seeing her—every inch of her—for the first time. I’d be mindful of her breathing, making sure it never progressed beyond easy, not wanting my private time to end—not just yet. Sometimes she’d read to me if something inky caught her interest. Sometimes I’d tell her what caught my interest, like how even the skin on her knees was soft and sexy beyond belief.

      Honestly, I lived for those moments. And that was the whole frickin’ point: I wasn’t fully alive yet. I woke to shrieks and a decaffeinated frenzy of activity that dumped us out the door—not as one, but as two.

      I grabbed my funny phone from my pocket and texted, I missed you this morning. With a smile, I hit send and then watched her in the mirror. A moment later, I heard the tone that forced her hand into her purse. She grabbed, flipped, navigated, and read. Then, a smile spread across her face in a way that could not help but enliven me. When she looked in my direction, I lowered my head and pretended to be busy doing nothing. And I waited. Even after the replenished carafe appeared in front of me, I waited.

      And then, it came.

      Oh, take a powder! the reply said.

      My eyes shot to her in the mirror—except, she wasn’t there. I whiplashed around and scoured the bar, and then, I grabbed the carafe and darted to our booth. Before I even got a chance to ask, Laura volunteered, Your little woman went to powder her nose, Sutter.

      In the blink of an eye, I set down the carafe and sped in the direction of the restrooms. Very ungracefully, I swung the door open to find her sitting on the counter between two sinks, that same smile making those green eyes twinkle.

      I very generously returned the smile. We’re reduced to slinking around in public bathrooms, huh?

      She outstretched her arms. Just slink all the way over here. I missed you, too.

      And I did, although slink instantly turned to lunge.

      My arms bolted around her, and she intensely encircled me with both arms and legs. We did not speak. We did not breathe. We did not move. Salvation. Deliverance. Amen. Oh yeah!

      When I finally inhaled, I smelled last night’s bubble bath still clinging to her, not wanting to let go. I empathized and drew her closer.

      After a short time and with the utmost care, she eased back and cupped my head in her hands. Good morning, sleepyhead, she said and proceeded to apply the softest, sweetest kiss known to woman. Better? she asked.

      Way better, I sighed. Thank you.

      We held each other for a moment longer and then the inevitable loomed. I stole three more kisses and suggested, All right, let’s go back before the search party gets dispatched. You go back first. I’ll wait thirty seconds and then follow.

      She heartily laughed and swatted me. Honey, we didn’t do anything wrong.

      Oh yeah, I conceded, feeling the fool and yet, the thief.

      With squinting eyes, she stared at me. But you’ll still look as if we did something wrong whether we go back together or separately. She held out her hand. Come on.

      Suddenly seized by a second thought, I resisted her tugging. How about we tell a tall tale about how we forgot something at home? Steal away to where it smells better than a bar’s bathroom. We still have time. We could do it and still get to Maggie and Susan’s on time. How about it?

      She glanced to her watch, and my anticipatory gland did its thing again. If we’re out of here in the next five minutes, you’ve got a deal.

      Then let’s go light some fires under them! Move it!

      We hurried back, and I paid no mind to whether my face evinced my guilty pleasure.

      As soon as Laura saw us, she snapped her fingers and pointed at Claudia. Kitterman, FYI, she said. You must pay better attention to details. When you say you’re off to powder your nose, it’d be more convincing if you took your purse with you.

      A little kissy-face in the ladies’ room, girls?

      And damn proud of it, Claudia asserted and plopped into the booth.

      I sat next to her and felt her hand quickly return to my bare leg. Then, I did a swift assessment of the situation. No one was eating. The burger slices were gone, except for that one putrefying in front of me. The bed of French fries had been stripped down to its frame of a plate. Everyone slumped back as if resisting the urge to undo pants buttons. Mission accomplished, under deadline. Yes!

      Claudia began rummaging in her purse. All right, how much do we owe?

      We don’t have the bill yet.

      I’ll go ask Molly, Alison volunteered and promptly rose.

      Why the fire-ass hurry? We still have time.

      Early is as rude as late.

      Claudia braved, We wanted to run home quick. We left in such a hurry, I’m not sure we turned the heat—

      Simultaneously, Ginny and Kris started vibrating and playing music. Each withdrew a cell phone.

      Kris looked at her screen and announced, It’s Maggie, at the same time Ginny declared, It’s Susan.

      With a shrug apiece, they answered. They stared at each other and listened, and we stared at them and listened to the silence.

      What the hell?

      Smart thinking, Maggie. Is that okay with you, Ginny?

      Sounds like a good plan, Susan. Is that okay with you, Kris?

      They both nodded and passed their agreement to the nearest cell tower.

      Kris said, You don’t have to call anyone. We’re together, just as Ginny said, No need. Everyone’s right here.

      They exchanged panicked looks. Ginny fumbled, We all met for coffee, at the same time Kris really dropped the ball. We met for breakfast.

      Ginny cuffed Kris, and Kris briskly corrected, We met for coffee, breakfast coffee! We’re actually rather famished.

      Five hands flew to cover five mouths. Mine didn’t. Mine didn’t need to. Mine stayed put on that hand still attached to my bare leg.

      We’ll take care of it. See you soon.

      Don’t worry about a thing. See you shortly.

      She said. She said. Fine and dandy, but what the hell had Maggie and Susan said?

      As soon as they disconnected, Holly asked, Okay, chickies, what the heck is up?

      The city declared a preemptive snow emergency. There’s a major storm on the way.

      "We can’t park on the streets after eleven tonight. Maggie and Susan are worried about where everyone’s going to

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