Hi everyone, it's my first story on wattpad. I'm sharing my story, Love Among The Shadows. Here is the blurb.

In the heart of a bustling city of L.A., Valeria Jackson, a renowned FBI detective, finds herself embroiled in the hunt for a notorious serial killer. As she navigates the twisted maze of clues and leads, she crosses paths with Natasha, a mysterious woman with an enigmatic allure. Despite the darkness that surrounds them, a spark ignites between Valeria and Natasha, drawing them together in unexpected ways. But as their relationship deepens, Valeria begins to uncover shocking truths about Natasha's past, leading to a revelation that threatens to tear them apart. Will it affect their relationship? Are they safe amidst the serial killer or does it all end before it has even begin?

"Love Among The Shadows" is a gripping tale of love, betrayal, and redemption, where the boundaries of morality are tested, and the pursuit of truth leads to unexpected revelations. With its intricate plot twists and compelling characters, this story will keep readers on the edge of their seats until the very end.

LINK: https://www.wattpad.com/story/365978194-love-among-the-shadows-wlw

Also if you want to see the trailer of this book here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XH1QpyjTyOE&t=44s

My designs include unlimited revisions and both ebook and paperback, as well as promotional material and any other changes you might need. I will chat with you and ask for input every step along the way.

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You can find my portfolio right here: https://www.behance.net/igorandrich

Hi Writers,

I'm an author of lesbian short stories. I write because I love to, and publish my stories on Medium. I get super-lovely responses, and about a 50% read ratio. So, people like to read my stories when they find them.

(My stories are emotionally charged fantasies, often erotic to a greater or lesser degree, sometimes science fiction, and almost always with some kind of twist.)

Back when I had a blog I used to get a few tens of readers a day, usually via the (now gone) onlinelesbianfiction. So I know there are readers out there.

My question is: how to reach my audience? What has worked for you?

Thanks so much,

Cody

https://medium.com/@codykmochova

She went by many names. Thief. Liar. Criminal. Pickpocket. Betrayer. But tonight, as she crossed the threshold of the ballroom, she shed those names like a snake shedding skin. Tonight, she was something else. Something sweet and intoxicating. Tonight, she was the Heiress to the Bloodrose fortune.

The fabric of her dress, dipped in dyes forged from the midnight sky, clung to her lithe form, accentuating her curves while allowing her to move as she pleased. Intricate silver embroidery traced delicate patterns along the hemline, reminiscent of moonlit constellations scattered across the inky heavens. Each stitch seemed to shimmer and dance beneath the light of the chandeliers. This dress was her favorite. Not because of the silken material or the plunging neckline, but because of the dozens of hidden pockets hidden in the folds. They were perfect for holding anything the heiress could get her slender fingers on.

But her night of graceful pilfering came to an end as a figure clad in armor emerged from the crowd to meet her.

“Captain,” she said by way of greeting, “lovely seeing you here.”

The Captain of the Guard, clad in her polished uniform of silver and a cape of crimson, stepped into a practiced bow. “I could say the same,” she replied easily, her voice tinted with an accent the heiress had only heard amongst the commoners.

The heiress hummed, her painted lips pulling into a lopsided grin. “What can I do for you, Captain? Or are all the ladies attending honored with a greeting from our esteemed protector?”

The captain straightened, her features pleasant but unamused. “Only you, heiress.”

She liked the sound of that. “And why is that?” A passing servant holding a tray of goblets passed. The sloshing red liquid was irresistible to her. She took the cup and savored her first sip of many.

“To protect you. There have been rumors of a thief targeting the nobility. From what I’ve gathered, they’ve set their eyes on you. For the night, you are under my protection,” the captain said.

She’d heard the nuisance of a guard had caught onto her but she hadn’t imagined she’d be so bold as to approach her during the ball. The heiress took a deep drink from her glass before smiling up at the woman meant to accompany her for the night. “The Goddess has showered me with her blessings then,” she said. “Do you dance?”

“Do I dance?”

The heiress grinned at the way the captain’s shoulders rose like a feline’s haunches. “Mhmm. Surely they taught you how to dance as a part of your training.”

The captain blushed. “I’m afraid not.”

“Then I’ll teach you.” Oh, tonight would be fruitful after all.

She took the captain’s hand, leading her through the crowd of serpents eager to gain her favor. She slipped past them. Dodging outstretched arms and offered hands with a practiced grace and poise. She didn’t care to listen to their marriage proposals tonight.

“Now,” the heiress turned toward the captain at the edge of the dance floor, “put your hand on my waist.” The warmth of her touch bled through the soft fabric of her dress, drawing up the faintest of blooms across her cheek. She put her hand on the captain’s shoulder before taking her hand. “Follow my lead when the song begins. We’ll start with small steps.”

The orchestra began, filling the room with the sound of rich cellos and the rhythmic beat of drums. They began their dance a bit awkwardly as the heiress directed her dance partner where to step. To the captain’s credit, she only stepped on her toes twice before easing into the dance.

“And now, you know how to dance,” the heiress laughed.

The captain kept her gaze averted, perhaps scanning the crowd for threats or simply trying to keep them from crashing into another dancing couple. “It’s not as difficult as I thought it would be,” she admitted.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d be able to move so gracefully in all that metal,” the heiress mused as her hand gave a pointed squeeze to her shoulder.

“Ha, you’d be surprised how gracefully I can move in uniform.”

Long lashes danced across her cheeks. “Is that so? Perhaps later you could show me just how gracefully you can move.” The heiress had heard of the captain and the ladies that held her affection, but the heiress never thought she’d be one of the courted women.

The guard blanched, her face looking as though it had been burned by long hours beneath the sun. “Oh, I didn’t-that’s not what I-forgive me-”

The heiress laughed, a sound more genuine than she’d meant. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she cooed and closed the space between them. “You are enchanting, Captain. The finest guard I’ve ever had the pleasure of dancing with.” She relished the way the woman squirmed beneath the weight of her words.

The song changed, the tempo leaving no room for the heiress’s teasing. Fate had spared her prey from her toying.

The two danced until their legs could hardly take another step and the heiress yearned to be rid of her heeled shoes. Tired and a touch out of breath, she found it far too easy to coax the captain away from the ballroom to the cool air of the gardens. Surrounded by flowering quince and honeysuckle, they walked the pristine paths beneath the gaze of the moon.

“About what you said earlier,” the heiress said, looking over to the guarded features of the captain, “I would love to take you up on the offer.”

“It wasn’t an offer,” she replied stiffly.

A soft laugh left the noblewoman. “Wasn’t it?” She took a daring step in front of the guard, stopping her from continuing. “The way you held me, looked at me, I’d say you’d be as happy as I would be to give it a try. I wouldn’t tell anyone.” She lifted her hands, running them over the silver armor just above her chest. “It could be our secret.”

“No.” Gloved hands grabbed her forearms, removing her hands from her. “I know what you are, heiress,” she hissed.

“And what am I,” she leered.

The captain snarled down at her. Any trace infatuation lingering from their dance had vanished. “You’re the thief. I can’t prove it yet, but I will. It’s my duty.”

“Duty,” the heiress scoffed. “Your duty is to your people, not these glittering fools prancing about like those beneath them aren’t starving.”

“I do what I must to keep our city protected from criminals like you.”

“From what I’ve heard, the only crime the thief has committed is helping their people when the nobility won’t.”

“Don’t play games with me,” the captain spat, releasing her as she took a step back.

The heiress grinned, danger glistening in her eye. “It’s too late for that.”

The guard was unprepared for the swiftness in which the thief moved. A shove and her foot behind her ankle was all it took to have the captain laid out on the stone path. The heiress was upon her the moment she struck the ground. “You will help me, Captain,” she said inches from her face, “or you will lose everything you’ve worked for.”

“I’d never help someone like you,” the guard seethed.

“Oh, but you will.” Unable to resist, she lowered her head, letting her lips scrape along the cusp of her ear. “There’s a necklace in your quarters that belongs to the Duchess of Eldoria. How long has it been missing? Three months? Five? Imagine what she’d do to you if she found out you were the one who’d stolen it.” The heiress pulled back, grinning down at the guard. “So you can work with me, or you can face her wrath.”

The guard stared up at her, at a loss for words. Stars above, she was adorable looking up at her like that.

“If I don’t have a letter in my hand by tomorrow night, I’ll take it as a no, but,” she traced her finger along the woman’s jaw, “if you decide to accept my offer, I would love if you accepted it in my chambers, preferably in my bed.”

In one fluid movement, she rose and stepped away. “Goodnight, Captain.”

Frost swept over the lifeless cliffside. Winter had seized the landscape in its ruthless grip, leaving nothing untouched. Not even The Collector had been spared. Bundled in the finest furs and leathers Lavena could find, she trudged along the shallow shelf protruding from the unforgiving stone. Piles of snow obstructed her path, making it impossible to tell where to step.

And yet, by some blessing from above, she stopped before the hollow mouth of a cave where the wind wailed and snowflakes teased the opening. But the frozen flecks turned into droplets as they attempted to cross the threshold.

Lavena stiffly moved forward. Warmth caressed her cheek, melting away the cold that turned her blood into sludge as the cave welcomed her into its dark embrace. The shrill cry of the wind fell away as she moved deeper into the darkness.

From her coat pocket, she retrieved a sunstone. The shadows fell away, revealing the eroded edges of the cave. Each footstep echoed around her as she descended into the mountain. Only when the tunnel stopped and she faced a barren wall did she stop.

She flexed her empty hand as she walked the length of the stone. Unlike the pale grey of the cave, the dark rock was lined with minute crystals. They taunted her with each wink, daring her to speak the ancient words she’d murmured under her breath with each agonizing step up the mountain’s face.

Levena stopped at the center. The stone glowed within her cupped hands as she took in a small breath. After months of hunting a deity most had forgotten, she had finally reached the end of her journey. Bowing her head, she spoke the ancient tongue of the villagers she had met at the foot of the mountain. The throaty syllables bounced off the air, surrounding her as she continued the chant.

The crystals within the wall shuddered, falling from the rock onto the floor in a tinkling wave of rain with a softer sound than the villagers had described. The fallen crystals melted before her feet in a shimmering puddle of iridescent minerals. Lavena stepped back, her voice growing louder as though she could will the pool of crystal to become something more.

Slowly, a figure emerged from globs of enchanting hues. Lavena didn’t dare to lift her head for fear of forgetting the chant she’d ingrained into her mind. She couldn’t risk losing the chance to speak to an ancient creature. The villagers had said it could only be summoned during the worst storm of the season. If she failed, she’d have to wait another year.

The molten crystal solidified before her into two long limbs.

Her chanting was interrupted by a cool finger against her lips. “And what, my lovely dove, have you summoned me for,” a voice like a singing chalice crooned. The finger shifted, dragging down her bottom lip before pressing beneath her chin, lifting her head.

Before her, a goddess stood. The light glistened off her ethereal skin in fractured iridescent colors. Her eyes, a swirling pool of purples and blues that threatened to drown her within their inky embrace. Waves of ivory flowed around her hair as though she was submerged within something Lavena’s human eyes could not comprehend.

“I-” Lavena blinked. The goddess grinned, lips pulling away from her pearly teeth. “I’m a collector.”

The being hummed, leering down at her. “And have you come to collect me, lovely dove?”

Would she be so bold as to say yes? “I’ve heard many things about you.” The cool finger beneath her chin fell away and the goddess shifted, slowly encircling her. “That you perform miracles.”

“I do,” she purred.

Lavena shivered, feeling a cool hand caress the small of her back. “I hope to harness that.”

The goddess stood before her again, eyes swirling with purples hints of pinks. “What for, my dove?”

“First, I’d love to get off this mountain,” she said with a ghost of a laugh.

“As you wish.”

The dreary colors of the world twisted and spun, creating a vortex around them. Greys and browns bled into vibrant shades of greens and blues until the swirling paints calmed. Lavena stumbled back, taking in the grass beneath her feet and songs of birds within ancient trees around her.

“You-Where-Where-I don’t-”

Again, the cool touch of her finger silenced her. “Hush, my dove. And now,” the goddess leaned over to croon in her ear, “a price must be paid.”

“A price,” Lavena blanched. She hadn’t meant to ask for the miracle. It had been a joke.

“Don’t you know magic always comes at a cost?” She held out an iridescent hand. “Don’t look so surprised. I thought you were a collector. Shouldn’t you know better?” Swirling irises of pinks and reds looked pointedly to Lavena’s hand. “If you want another miracle, you’ll have to pay, my sweet dove.”

Lavena curled and flexed her fingers. She could run. But how far would she get? No. The villagers had spoken fondly of the Goddess in the Mountain and they had been nothing but honest and kind to her. She could trust her. With a small breath, she laid her palm in the goddess’s hand. She worried at the bottom of her lip as slender fingers languidly pulled off her glove. Her cool touch brought her hand up toward the goddess’s crystalline features.

Pinks and reds turned wholly crimson as thin lips pulled back in a sneer. “Which finger is your least favorite so that I might bless it, little dove?”

Lavena’s gaze fell to her too-perfect teeth. She didn’t remember her canines looking like daggers. “My ring finger-” Agony ripped down her arm like liquid lightning frying her nerves. A scream tore from her throat as her knees buckled, desperate to fall away.

The goddess held her like struggling prey as crimson dripped down her chin. She chewed slowly, relishing the delectable crunch of bone.

After Lavena’s screaming had turned to sobs, she was released. She clutched her hand to her chest, curling over herself as though that might cease the icy pain leaching into her hand.

“Poor thing,” the goddess said. “Dry your tears, sweet dove, and look at the gift I bestowed upon you.”

Through glassy eyes, she looked down at her hand to see her finger had been replaced with a crystalline digit. Lavena sucked down harsh breaths, trying to calm herself despite the blinding pain. “You bit off my finger,” she said, unable to keep the shrillness from her tone.

“I did.” The goddess crouched down to meet the woman’s silver-lined gaze. “But I won’t do it again…unless you ask me.” She chuckled before standing and offered her hand once more. “Come, my dove. We have much to do.” She wiggled her glassy fingers. “Or I could turn you into a statue and you can enjoy the forest for the rest of eternity. Your choice.”

Lavena, still clutching her hand to her chest, managed to shove herself up onto her feet with bared teeth. “You’ll pay for that.”

The goddess tilted her head and laughed toward the heavens. “Oh, my dove,” she cooed, taking a step too close to the brave collector, “I don’t think I will, but you can certainly try to make me.”

​

https://preview.redd.it/naejnjoo72rc1.png?width=843&format=png&auto=webp&s=923e36bd7e31ec1b32d01b457bdd4b07792d7531

In the throes of passion, Ell was lost in her own world, oblivious to everything but the intoxicating sensation building within her. She continued to stroke and tease her throbbing clit with increasing fervor, the sound of her own moans filling the room.

Unbeknownst to her, the door creaked open, and Bree sauntered in, her eyes alight with curiosity as she took in the scene before her. Ell was so consumed by her own pleasure that she didn't even notice Bree's presence, lost in the throes of her own ecstasy.

As Ell reached the peak of her climax, her body convulsed with pleasure, her moans echoing off the walls as waves of pleasure washed over her. She rode the waves of ecstasy until they finally subsided, leaving her spent and breathless, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

It was only then that Ell became aware of Bree's presence, her cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment as she realized she had been caught in the act. But to her surprise, she noticed a hunger in Bree's eyes, a desire that mirrored her own. Bree's breath quickened as she watched Ell, her own arousal evident as she took in the scene before her.

With a silent understanding passing between them, Ell shifted on the bed, parting her legs to offer Bree a tantalizing view of her glistening pussy. The invitation was clear, an unspoken plea for Bree to join her in the intoxicating dance of pleasure that still pulsed between them.

I love to write through my feelings so here's something I worked on last night after being lowkey dumped...

I was just lead on for 4 months. She said it wasn't fair to me to move at her pace. Her pace is not getting to know people. I gave her a third of my year to waste things. She said it wasn't a waste but here I am again with someone deciding they don't want any interaction with me. Apparently I move too fast. I don't know her. We've met a couple times. We haven't even made skin to skin contact. She told me that I need to be more nice to myself. That I deserve to be more confident. I showed her that I'm capable of that. She said that I'm a good person. That I'm beautiful and kind. That it's not me. So who is it? Basically she just told me that she's the problem. Why bother reaching out to people if you're not going to let them in? 4 months. Over 120 days. 2,880 hours. 172,800 minutes. 10,368,000 seconds of lies when I told her to be honest from the start. It was a waste. Maybe not for her. She saw the real me. She saw my openess to possibility. I saw a standstill. I saw someone who was always late. Someone who could never return a compliment. Someone who never fully listened or tried to understand. She reached out to me. I gave her a chance. I really did. She just wanted someone to throw away. 4 months wasted. 4 months I have to get back. 2,880 hours. 172,800 minutes. 10,368,000 seconds that I have to start over with someone else. 10,368,000 seconds of me wondering if she actually liked me. If it was too good to be true. I guess a woman's intuition is right. Funny how that works. 4 months for nothing. 4 months for silence. 4 months for me wishing I never met her. 4 months for me to start over with someone who won't waste my time. 4 months for someone who can do another 4 months together.

CALLING ALL WRITERS…

share your work in the fifth issue of astraea zine:

A NEW BEAT

Submit now using this link: https://forms.gle/jNs2njfUFfuLye9B8

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https://preview.redd.it/g1y91814mgac1.png?width=1545&format=png&auto=webp&s=e1b083f465c45a9a4f435c2042d4352459f6e021

Hello, Writers! I'm starting a discord group where any writers that identify as bisexual, pansexual, lesbian or sapphic women can meet, chat and share their stories. While you certainly may find critique partners and beta readers on the server, there is no guarantee of that as the server's primary focus is just creating a safe space for people to share their love of writing, make new friends and potentially learn something from each other

​

If you're interested, please feel free to message me and I can send you the link to the group. Also, keep in mind that this is an adults only writing group that is inclusionary of trans and non-binary sapphics, so please respect that before messaging.

Hello, Writers! I'm starting a discord group where any writers that identify as bisexual, pansexual, lesbian or sapphic women can meet, chat and share their stories. While you certainly may find critique partners and beta readers on the server, there is no guarantee of that as the server's primary focus is just creating a safe space for people to share their love of writing, make new friends and potentially learn something from each other

​

If you're interested, please feel free to message me and I can send you the link to the group. Also, keep in mind that this is an adults only writing group that is inclusionary of trans and non-binary sapphics, so please respect that before messaging.

I’m writing smut but few of my characters turn out to be straight, because I’m not, but I don’t have all that many monosexual stories in general either.

I just found this subreddit but it looks like I’m rather too late to the party. Is there anywhere else I should be checking out? Or anyone here who’d appreciate a writerly chat?

I've recently written and published a novella! It's part of a romance series I'm writing called Blue Collar Butches. You can find it here: Amazon.com: The Ice Queen of Provincetown (Blue Collar Butches): 9798863010038: Summer, Alison: Books

Evette Yates, a high-strung architect at one of New York's top firms, is closer than she's ever been to the promotion that will launch her career. The only thing standing in between Evette and her corner office? Overseeing the impossible renovation of a Cape Cod beach house and dealing with Christine Fischer, the devastatingly handsome contractor in charge of the job.

Chris is stubborn, rude, and not afraid to take Evette down a peg. But after a run in at the local bar, a few too many drinks, and some misplaced hands, Evette starts to think working that working in Provincetown won't be so bad after all.

It is a wattpad story (or I can send you all complete chapters personally, incl. the uncut published and unpublished ones) about two girls in their early 20s, who come from rival countries. They end up sharing an apartment in another country where they are doing their master's. They are initially prejudiced against each other but things take an interesting turn when they decide to try getting to know each other better...

It contains a lot of philosophical discussions, sometimes on mature themes. If you'd be interested, the link is down below:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/352711799-loving-you-is-a-losing-game-gxg

As a bi woman, I read both lesbian and het geared romance books but I prefer writing lesbian fiction. I have found and am active in the indie romance online community geared towards straight women but am struggling to find the online community geared towards lesbian readers.

I would like to find it so I can start being active in it, see how it works and if it works differently than what I know so when I’m ready to publish, I’m not some random no one has ever heard of. Is there a community? Am I just not looking in the right place or searching correctly? Can anyone please help point me in the right direction?

When you were a young teenager, did you 'practice kissing?' If so, How?

Would two girls ever practice kissing together/on each other? 

An autumn night sky fell upon us again. The winter months are always the prettiest, since the moon shines brighter than any other time of the year. The leaves turn a fiery red and orange, and everywhere you go, you can always smell the fresh scent of bread and pastries around the corner.

But this was also a time of purging. Purging of the food, and purging of the people. The Royalty are the only ones deserving of food during this time, as said by law. So many of the weaker people got weeded out of society, and only the strongest were left to survive, so our kingdom would only have the strongest of people. And the strongest will to live.

As a part of the Royalty, Marian would despise this time of the year. She was offered food, but never took it, stating stomach issues, and then secretly gave it out to desperate people on the streets near her home. Though she was Royalty, she lived in seperate housing than her family, in a small cottage away from the capital. That way, she could easily distance herself from her own family. She lived with her animals, and she was content living a simple life over one filled with riches and constant drinking parties. She would always be in town, helping with whatever she could, and would give to the people whenever she had money or food with her. But she always did it in secret, and the towns people knew to keep it a secret, or both them and her would be murdered on the spot. By her own family.

But Ariel was a different story. She grew up in the town, with only her father, after her mother died in one of the Purges. He was a sick man, but he did his best to take care of his only child. She always wore a smile on her face through the toughest of times, because she didn't know the horrors of what she was going through. When she got older, around 19 or so, she started seeing an Angel walk around her street. Because as soon as she took her eyes off of the girl, she would disappear into thin air. The girl looked around her age, and oh, she wore the prettiest face known to mankind.

Every day Ariel would wait for the Angel to appear but the Angel would never approach her, only giving a faint smile, and she would almost pass out from the beauty.

Until one day, the Angel approached her. The Angel stuck out a hand and greeted her, with a wide smile. With stars in her eyes, Ariel blurted out,

"Are you the Angel!?"

Silence flooded her ears, and embarrassment covered her freckled face, but the Angel laughed and told her,

"I am no Angel, but I do have a name. My name is Marian."

"I'm so sorry..."

"It is no worries, I get that quite a lot actually. But you are?"

"Oh, um. Ariel."

"It's very nice to meet you Ariel. Say, would you like to come with me back to my cottage? We can talk over tea, since you seem like a very... Interesting person."

"Sure! But I should tell my father first, so he doesn't have a heart attack over me."

"I'll stay right here, now go tell your father."

Ariel could not have rushed to her home fast enough.

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(we know where this is going :))))), and btw, the story is called A Greek Tragedy)

I've had this idea swimming in my mind for a while now, a love story with Athena and Medusa.

I've been wondering how to capture it with Athena being asexual and Medusa being a black women, but I need some help or tips to help capture it in the right light.

If you have any cute tropes please do comment them! I have some ideas for maybe letters being sent back and forth.

I'm a long-time fan of steampunk and a long-time lesbian (like from birth, right?). The thing I'm new at is writing. Well, that's not true. I've been writing a long time. The thing I'm new at is showing my writing to anyone other than a few close friends. But I'd really like to know what more readers think. So I've started posting this story over on something called Amazon Vella, but I thought I could post the first episode here as well for your thoughts. Thanks.

Story Title: Till Death Do We

Episode One Title: The Beautiful and Mysterious Stranger

“May I volunteer?”

Upon hearing those words, Philomena Stiffington, age 19, felt her heart grab like tires on rough asphalt. On that warm hazy spring day in the Gravesend Cemetery, with the yellow disc of the sun ashimmer through a film of brownish-yellow smog stretching to the horizon, Philomena gazed spellbound at the beautiful and mysterious dark-haired stranger who had just addressed her. She was, without doubt, the loveliest female – living or other – that Philomena had ever beheld, an enchantress with large green eyes and a French curled bob, wearing flowing low-cut dark ruffled indigo dress.

Philomena, who, despite her athletic build, and own good looks, had always been painfully shy around the same sex, was so startled by the stranger’s sudden appearance beside the polished bronze casket that for a moment she forgot what she’d asked for volunteers for. “Uh, uh ... ahem, uh, sorry ....?” she stammered.

“Didn’t you just ask if anyone could help carry this?” The beautiful stranger placed her hand on the polished metal casket, which, at that moment, protruded halfway out of the back of the Stiffs and Sons funeral lorry.

Philomena now recalled that yes, she had indeed asked for assistance in removing from the back of the lorry the Stiff’s Everlasting Security Bronze “Forever Locked” Air-tight casket containing the late Ms. Hortense Peabody. Ms. Peabody, Philomena recalled, had pre-purchased the casket on lay-away, thus guaranteeing that upon demise, her body would remain safe and inviolate for all of eternity, or at least until earthworms had evolved to the point where they could operate acetylene torches.

“But you’re so pretty—” Philomena spluttered, then caught herself. “Uh, I mean, it’s so pretty ... heavy... the casket, that is.” She knew she must have sounded like an idiot, but there was nothing new about that. And besides, she really did need help. By itself, the Everlasting Security Bronze casket weighed more than 200 pounds. With the addition of Ms. Peabody, who had anything but a pea-size body, it probably tipped the scales at 420.

On that warm spring day, the beautiful stranger in indigo crooked her milky-white bare arm, displaying a firm bicep with a slight, though well-defined bulge. “I train regularly.”

At the sight of the stranger’s pale, trim flesh, Philomena felt the color rise in her cheeks and found herself momentarily speechless. She had always considered herself much too-level headed to believe in love at first sight, but oh, how she wished to take that lovely arm in hers and stroll anywhere the stranger wanted to go, as long as they were together.

However, another of the pallbearers who’d gathered behind the funeral lorry was not nearly so dazzled. “We can definitely use your assistance right over here, miss,” said Philomena’s Cousin Rudy, pointing to the spot directly across the casket from where he was standing. The beautiful stranger smiled as she stepped closer and clasped a casket handle firmly. Cousin Rudy then patted Philomena’s shoulder, bringing his entranced young cousin back to the business at hand. “Hello, cousin? Might we proceed with the proceedings while the daylight is still upon us?”

With the aid of a couple of burly funerary workers in dirt-stained coveralls, the pallbearers hefted the casket off the lorry’s flat bed, trod past the soot-shrouded trees and started up the weedy slope toward the gravesite. Thus laboring, Philomena could not help but feel an unexpected flush of jealousy when she noticed that her cousin Rudy’s eyes were fixed, not on the goal of securing firm purchase on the scraggly sloping terrain ahead, but rather on the beautiful stranger's extremely fetching décolletage.

No wonder my cousin was so eager to have her directly across the casket from him, Philomena thought, while she herself noted how the beautiful stranger’s long slender throat reddened from the effort of lugging the heavy casket, and how the tendons were visible beneath the soft skin of her slender neck, displaying an enticing combination of delicacy and bewitching strength. The result was as dismaying as it was dizzying, for Philomena had never before known a female to have quite such an immediate and profound affect on her.

Having made their way up hill to the gravesite, the pallbearers lowered the casket on the straps of the descender, and the funerary workers returned to their shovels and diesel excavator on the periphery. Philomena and Cousin Rudy backed away to a respectable distance, and the beautiful stranger joined the small group of mourners who had gathered to bid Hortense Peabody secure passage to her final resting place.

Now Reverend Walls, his white collar stiff and black gowns ruffling, stepped forth and began to rattle off the standard sermon: “We come here today with sorrow in our hearts and questions on our minds as to why these things...” the all-too-familiar words slipping through Philomena’s consciousness as effortlessly as reciting a daily flag salute in class, or ignoring a mother’s admonition to dress warmly on a cold morning.

Had Philomena actually had a mother...

Instead, Philomena’s attention was focused solely on the vision of indigo-clad loveliness across the gravesite, who now dabbed her cheeks with a small lace handkerchief. Finding it nearly impossible to take her eyes off the stranger, Philomena felt herself grow uncomfortably warm under the hazy June sun. Her own tightly-buttoned collar began to feel tight as she repeatedly chastised herself for staring, but at the same time was helpless to look away. Really, Phil, get ahold of yourself, she scolded herself. After all, you’re at work. This was the family business and the stranger was one of the mourners, and while Philomena had never actually been told that staring at the bereaved was considered bad form, she couldn’t help but assume that it was. She felt truly ashamed of herself. Surely, she should have had better self-control, no matter how comely this stranger was.

Just then, Philomena felt her cousin’s shoulder brush against hers as Rudy leaned close and whispered, “Never thought I’d be seeing her again,” The tailcoat Rudy wore was wrinkled to the point of looking slept in. His eyes were bloodshot, and several days’ worth of stubble darkened those areas of his cheeks and chin not covered by his bushy hulihee.

The whispered words jolted Philomena out of her reverie. “What do you mean, ‘again?’?” she whispered back.

“She came to an old lady’s funeral last week, too. That one what blowed herself up in her kitchen. Gas leak, I believe it were.”

Philomena nodded solemnly. Such explosions were regretfully commonplace in a world entirely dependent on natural gas or hydrocarbon jelly for cooking. But to learn that the beautiful stranger had attended a funeral just last week was to feel hope. Perhaps the beautiful stranger had just moved to Gravesend. And were that the case, wasn't there the possibility of seeing her again? “Are you sure it was her?”

“Oh, it were definitely the lady what blowed herself up," Rudy said. "Your father insisted that I accompany him regarding the disposition of the lady’s remains. Thems what we could find after the explosion, that is. And after that terrible mix-up with Mayor Del Guardia, he—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Philomena quickly whispered. She still couldn’t bear hearing about what had come to be called The Terrible Mix-Up in recent Stiffington family lore. An event so painfully inexcusable that it threatened the very existence of the family funeral home itself. Philomena nodded at the lovely stranger. “I meant, are you sure it was she at the funeral last week?”

“Are you pullin' my chain, cousin?” Cousin Rudy whispered. “As if I could mistake such a heavenly goddess for anyone else? Just look at her. Tell me she don’t make your winkle wankle?”

At this juncture, dear reader, it is important to note that Cousin Rudy’s voice tends to carry. Around the gravesite, the handful of elderly mourners still in possession of some degree of hearing raised their heads with chastising scowls upon hearing the words that had just escaped his lips. And, while Philomena surely would not have selected a “wankling winkle” to describe the affect the beautiful stranger woman had on her, she found himself unable to disagree with her cousin’s general genital sentiment.

But then Cousin Rudy nudged Philomena with his elbow and nodded toward the tall sinister-looking fox-faced young man in the black sack suit and bowtie, polished top hat and dark glasses, lurking just behind the crowd.

Philomena instantly steeled herself. All thought of wankles, winkles, and exquisite strangers instantly abated.

Trouble was at hand.

So I'm in the mood to write so I'm writing. and I haven't written in a loooooong time...I'm a little over a page in...can someone read it? Be honest. Honestly don't know what kind of writing to explain it as? Journalistic? Defiantly fiction. Play? Screenplay? Book? No clue.

​

What did I do this summer? Wouldn’t you like to know! It was actually really relaxing. Stayed with some family in Montana. Relaxing nights by the pool. Breathtaking mid-day hikes up the Rockies. Pure Bliss. Especially when Cassie St.James would join us. Cassie is my cousin's neighbor. She’s a college freshman and damn…she’s sexy! Unfortunately I was a baby gay and had no idea what I was feeling and how to act on it. So…I ended up looking like a complete fool half the time. I think I even fell out of my chair once...so humiliating. But I digress. The summer was fun! Memories were made and discoveries were found.

Which brings me to the first day of school and it was interesting. For one thing it took me over thirty minutes to get dressed and it never takes me that long! I usually just throw on the first thing I touch. But today was a big deal. I felt different. I was different. It was senior year. Last chance to make that mark. What will I be remembered for? Honestly it will probably be for the shock and awe I caused on that first day. I might have given myself a drastic makeover. Old me: long straight dirty blonde hair; bright blue eyes; wore dresses to dances; wore make-up; even found sporting a handbag once or twice. But this year…there was the new me. Vans. Jeans with distinctive cuts on the thighs. Black t-shirt. Red and gray flannel. And the kicker? The pixie cut fade. As I walked to the front door I heard whispers. Sneers. ‘Who is that?’ ‘Oh My God! I think that's Danielle Stevens!’ ‘No way!’ ‘She’s gone full dyke!’

I did my best to ignore them but found myself feeling the heavy burden of their words.

“EEEEEEEEE! Danielle!?” Danielle only hears it from behind as she freezes. Well shit…

She spins on her heels and opens her arms, bracing for impact. Then, BAM! A short brunette dives into her chest. The girl wraps her arms around Danielle tightly, nuzzling her nose into Danielle’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you bestie!” the girl hops down and smirks, “Loving the new look!” she teases as she smooths out her skirt and brushes the stray hairs from her eyes winking at Danielle.

Danielle blushes rubbing the back of her neck, “Yeah it’s not the only thing that’s new.” Danielle pulls the girl to the side away from the prying eyes of students walking past. “So…here’s the thing Han…I’m…”

“Gay?” Danielle’s eyes go wide and Hannah smiles, “Girl that’s no secret. At least not anymore. Look at yourself.” She gestures towards Danielle’s appearance.

Danielle chuckles softly and smiles. “Yeah I guess you’re right. Didn’t really hide it hu?”

Both girls start walking to their first class. Hannah loops her arm around Danielles and skips a bit. “Sooooo… What happened this summer? What made you decide to embrace it now?” Hannah looks up at Danielle inquisitively.

“Well I kind of met someone…we didn’t like hook up or anything but she made me want to be more confident. So I cut my hair..I always wore it up. It was in the way anyway. This is easier.”

Hannah stretches on her tip-toes to shake her hand through Danielle’s hair, “It’s pretty sexy! The girls are going to love you!”

Danielle shakes her head and smiles. The two friends walk through the door and find seats in the back. Danielle begins pulling out her notebook and textbook as the rest of the students begin filling in. Filling the seats all around her, except the one right in front of her. Danielle leans back in her chair and pulls out her phone to answer and texts.

“Ahem” the sound is solid but soft. It catches Danielle’s attention and her eyes slowly make their way up to the face of the stranger beside her. Up the long tribal skirt that hides her legs, over the slightly exposed torso and white stitched top. The warm, dark eyes of the stranger are inviting as they look at Danielle in confusion. The girl smiles when she catches Danielle’s eye.

“Mind if I sit here?” the girl says gesturing to the desk in front of Danielle.

Danielle shakes her head and smiles back and the girl slides into the seat. She turns around, “I’m Emmalyn by the way.”

Danielle sits up and smiles, “Nice to meet you Emmalyn. I’m Dani. Well Danielle but all my friends call me Dani. Well they will once I ask them to. It’s all kind of new” she chuckles and glances out the window.

“What's new?” Emmalyn asks, slightly cocking her head to the side.

“Oh! I..uh..came out this summer. I looked completely different last year.”

I have a small short story collection of fantasy lesbian fiction up for free on amazon right now. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09NHM26V3 (all of which is entirely clean)

Also… would love to make some author friends

I posted something about this on another sub earlier before figuring out about this one, so I figured I'd try my luck here: I'm a wannabe writer who really likes the "trashy"/casual feel that a lot of Wattpad romances have, but if any of you have been on Wattpad you might have noticed a lot of it feels "Male Focused" if I'm being honest... Are there any sites like Wattpad but with more more Girl love stories? (Or even straight ok ones with less focus on the men and... Interesting main characters tbh?)