While Moonstruck is busy uploading at Kindle and Smashwords, let’s talk about my contribution to Cleis Press’s Lesbian Cops.
I love writing shorts. Those of you who visit often know that I do it for fun. It’s a way to experiment with a genre I’ve never tried or simply to clear my mind when I’m deep into a longer story.
When Sacchi’s call for submissions went out, I was all over it! Over the years, I’ve had cop friends, lesbian cop friends, so my story about a big city cop moving to a small southern town was very nearly biographical (and parts autobiographical—but I’m not telling which!). The funny things that happen to the cop in my story are true. The dry humor, the tight-knit friendships are real as well.
I got my copy in the mail the other day and have started reading through the stories. They’re hot, varied in tone and style, and very well done. You’re going to love this. And even if the theme isn’t your persuasion, I think you’ll be drawn in. I worked with Sacchi on Lesbian Cowboys, and she knows a good story when she sees it.
If you’d like to check out the other stops in Sacchi’s blog tour, check out her website: Sacchi’s Blog
(Click on the cover to buy!)
What is it about lesbian cops that pushes all the right buttons? It’s not just the uniform, with handcuffs and weapons, or the confidence, authority, and sense of danger. There’s something more as well, an irresistible force that these writers have channeled into fiercely erotic stories of policewomen in or out of uniform, on patrol or undercover, in charge or in need of healing, on the case or under the sheets.
The action can be gut-level tough, as in Jove Belle’s ”Hollis” where anti-terrorism boot camp surges over the inevitable edge into BDSM, or heart-wrenching as in Evan Mora’s “A Cop’s Wife” when death threats sharpen the need for life-affirming sex to a keen edge, or quirky as well as steamy while Teresa Noelle Roberts’s cop finds a way to maintain respect for her own “Dress Uniform” while indulging her anime-girl lover’s cos-play kink. Delilah Devlin, Andrea Dale, R. G. Emanuelle, Cheyenne Blue, and all the other contributors offer their own sizzling visions of the complexity and depth, the strength and vulnerability, and above all the commanding, overwhelming sex appeal of Lesbian Cops.
From The Only Game in Town, Lesbian Cops:
I wondered why I’d bothered changing out of my uniform before hitting the bar. Back in the city, the department had strict rules about drinking in uniform. However here, a circle of black uniforms sat crowded around the table in the far corner, cold beers sweating on the scarred wood.
Lonny James caught sight of me and waved me over. “Make room, guys.”
He said guys, but there was another female among them. Officer Brown, the bicycle cop who patrolled up and down Main Street in little black bike shorts during shopping hours.
I gave her a nod then glanced around the table. Lonny pulled out the chair beside him without rising. I sank into it gratefully and accepted the beer he slid my way.
“So how was your first day?”
I shrugged. Boring might sound rude, like a big city cop telling the rest of them their jobs were cakewalks. “It was okay, I guess.”
“Get any looks?”
“What do you mean?”
“We aren’t used to female cops here.”
My glance swung toward Office Brown whose lips pressed into a thin line.
“You’ve already got one,” I murmured.
“Yeah, but…” Lonny wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, and apparently had to think a minute about how to respond when he thought everyone should already know. “She’s on a bike.”
What an idiot.
I gave a soft laugh, rolled my eyes at Brown and sucked down foam as the men on my shift began to talk about their interesting day.
Lonny’s story was the best. He’d intervened between two yard archrivals over a dispute about a sycamore that dropped its pods on the wrong side of a fence. Lonny might not have been all that sharp but his slow drawling recounting of how he’d faced off against men armed with a chain saw and a rake had everyone chuckling, including me.
Lonny’s gaze dropped to my mouth. “You’re pretty when you smile,” he whispered.
I arched an eyebrow, suddenly uncomfortable because his thigh was pushing against mine.
I slipped a pen from my purse out of sight of the others and jabbed his thigh.
He jumped, cussing loudly, but when the others glanced his way, he said, “Caught my toe under the chair.
He wore steel-toed boots. Like I said, not the brightest light bulb.
When he settled again, he scooted his chair away. “If I’d known you swung that way,” he muttered loudly, “I’d have suggested you take the seat next to Brown.”
“Thanks for the suggestion,” I said, picking up my drink and walking around the table, aware that all eyes in the bar were on me, and everyone was drawing the same conclusion.
I sat beside the Brown, giving her only a quick glance. I didn’t want to assume a damn thing. “He always such a dick?” I muttered.
She laughed and held out her hand. “Ramona, and yeah, he thinks he’s a stud because he has a badge.”
“Cathy.” I offered a smile along with my hand. “Glad it wasn’t just me.”
The officer on the other side of her shook his head. “Don’t pay him any mind. He’s the sheriff’s nephew, and Horace knows good and well he’s an idiot.”
“We’re a little light on the formalities here,” Ramona said, eyeing my street clothes. “And they should have assigned you a sponsor—someone to show you the ropes.”
“Sheriff probably didn’t want to assign one of the married guys because their wives wouldn’t like it. You’re too pretty. And he couldn’t assign Lonny, well, because he’s—”
We shared a grin. I liked the way her smile pulled up the corners of her eyes, slanting them, betraying a drop of Asian blood mixed with the glorious Creole that painted her skin a lovely dark cream.
“So, why didn’t he give me you?” I said slowly, holding her gaze.
She blinked and a flush colored her cheeks. “He didn’t want you to be offended.”
I nodded my understanding. My instincts hadn’t lied. “Can I request you?”
“There’s not a lot you can’t figure out for yourself,” she said, stirring a fingertip in the top of her mixed drink.
“That mean you’re not interested?” I asked under my breath, wanting to keep our conversation on the down low.
Her eyes widened, and her glance slid away.
I blew out a breath and looked away—into her friend’s narrowed glare. I wondered if I’d had her figured all wrong and he was her boyfriend. Or maybe I’d just come on too strong. But I’m not the kind of girl to let a good thing slip away, not if I can help it.
I took another gulp of my beer, trying to figure out how to exit now that I’d shown my ass to everyone.
Chairs scraped. I glanced up to see the men rising, stretching out their arms, and sharing teasing jibes as they prepared to leave.
“Welcome to Canaan,” the guy sitting beside Ramona said. He lifted a brow at Ramona, and paused, but she stayed seated. He left with the others.
“That wasn’t at all obvious,” she muttered.
I wrinkled my nose. “I know how to clear a room.”
She gave a scoffing laugh. “It wasn’t about your bad behavior. Jonesy was giving us time alone to get to know each other. He didn’t think you’d want to out yourself your first damn day. It’s a small town. And this is the Bible Belt.”
“It worry you? Them knowing?”
“Only if it bothers you.”
I smiled, relieved I hadn’t blown it. “Fact is, I hoped I’d get a chance to talk to you alone. And I could give a shit less whether they’re disappointed that I don’t swing their way.”
Ramona’s lips pressed into thin line.
I couldn’t tell if she was disapproving of my forwardness or trying to hide a smile.
She cleared her throat. “Most of them are pretty decent—so long as we’re not in their face about it.”
I nodded and sat back in my chair, crossing one jeans-clad leg over the other. “You dating anyone?”
“Around…” She shrugged. “No one special. You?”
Shoving her drink away, she planted an elbow on the table and leaned closer. “Look, you’re new. I don’t jump in and out of bed with every available dyke just because there’s too damn few of us here.”
“And I’m not hitting on you because you’re the only game in town. Besides, I didn’t ask you to sleep with me.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, I want to, but I’ll give you a chance to know me first.” Sensing I’d pushed her far enough, I rose, dropped folded bills on the table to tip the waitress and held out her chair as she rose, smiling but looking a little uncomfortable at the attention we drew.
We parted at the door, exchanging nods, and I headed home. Regrettably, alone.
* * *