F/F Erotica
Contains my story, Same Place, Same Time.
Ladylit’s ‘Fab Five’ are back, and this time they will regale you with stories revolving around the age-old theme of Opposites Attract. Find out how a Democrat and a Republican reconcile their different political view points in Cheyenne Blue’s Coming Out In District 31, how a gym novice and a gym bunny get it on in Lucy Felthouse’s Same Place, Same Time, and how an older, rather uptight woman deals with a young brat spoiling her holiday in Harper Bliss’s The Power of Words. Further stories by Erzabet Bishop and Laila Blake expand the settings in this diverse mini-anthology to a bookstore and a museum. Tension flies high in these five tales of clashing lesbian lust, in which the characters will have to either ignore their desire or broaden their mind.
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When my best friend, Marina, first suggested we should start going to Zumba, my reaction was a heartfelt groan.
“Oh no, Ri, don’t make me. Please.”
“Why not? It’s meant to be really good fun. And let’s be completely honest, we could both do with shifting a few pounds.”
I shot her a dirty look, followed by a sigh. She was right—I did need to get rid of my spare tyre, but still… “Yeah, but I don’t see how jumping up and down in a room full of svelte, perky, ponytailed women is going to help. And I certainly don’t think it’ll be fun.”
“It’ll help because it makes you sweat. It’s exercise. Do you remember what that means, or would you like to look at a dictionary? Besides, I doubt it’ll be full of svelte, perky, ponytailed women.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because if they’re so svelte, why the hell would they need to go Zumba? I reckon it’ll just be normal women, like us, of all ages, wanting to get fitter and lose a bit of weight.”
She made a good point. “But I’ll feel like a fucking idiot dancing about. I’m not the most coordinated person on the planet, am I?”
“No, but it’s not a bloody dance class. We’re not training for a spot on Strictly Come Dancing. Stop making excuses, will you? We’re going!”
Knowing that arguing any more was pointless, I conceded and allowed Marina to drag me along to the next class.
Dressed in my baggiest t-shirt, loosest tracksuit bottoms, most comfortable trainers, and with my brunette pixie cut free of product, I already looked a frightful sight, and I hadn’t done so much as a star jump.
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