Sapphic Voices Humour

A Call For Submission

This Story is rated 'Adults Only' for its sexual content.

#

Erin and Jane met at the bar, where they danced together. The dancing involved grinding their hips against each other, which resulted in both of them having throbbing, wet clitori. Therefore, they went to Erin’s place to pursue their newfound passion. After brief preliminaries, they found themselves naked between the sheets. To Jane’s delight, Erin reached under her pillow and pulled out her pride and joy, a Reverse Quadruple Whammy Vibrating Dildo (AA batteries included).

#

“What’s a Reverse Quadruple Whammy Vibrating Dildo?” I asked.

“I have no idea, but modern lesbian erotica is different than it was a few years back. The story has to include equipment now.”

I tried to remember if I’d seen anything that might match the specified description in the glass case full of sex toys for sale at Sappho’s Terrace. I drew a blank. “There’s nothing like that at the bookstore.”

“I know.” Bobbi frowned. “But something made me think of it. What could it be?” After a moment, she brightened. “I remember now. It was at my grandma’s apartment.”

“Your grandmother has a dildo?”

“I wouldn’t know. But she has these catalogs of stuff for seniors to make their lives easier. Walkers, support hose, shower seats, panty liners, denture cleaners, vibrating dildoes — stuff like that.”

We were onto something. “Do you think she’d let you have one of those catalogs?”

“Oh, I’m sure she would. I could tell her I wanted to pick out a Christmas gift for her.”

#

The next day, Bobbi paid a visit to her grandmother. She left with three different catalogs of “healthcare” supplies for seniors. We dove into them with gusto. There was a lot of duplication, and we ended up with a very short list of possibilities.

The clitoral pump looked interesting, but it had a rubber bulb you had to squeeze to suck out the air and create a vacuum (“erection”?) before turning on the battery-powered multi-speed vibrator. That left no room for anything or anybody else. Not exactly romantic.

The Perfect Rock stimulated the two important places at once — a single-speed rotating part for your clitoris and a vibrating part with a choice of five different speeds for your vagina. I thought it sort of shortchanged the clitoris, which certainly deserves at least three speeds. We moved on.

Flexible ribbed Silagel, no battery. Boring. Then an upscale model of the same design — eight levels of vibration and 100% phthalate-free (obviously very important). Then back down to earth: a tiny little vibrator that straps to your finger for those times when discretion is of the essence. Not exactly erotica.

We were about to give up when we spotted it on page sixty of the third catalog: the Earth Mover. The clitoral stimulator with optional G?Spot stimulation attachment gives you a mind boggling ten variations of pulse and vibes using a whisper-quiet motor controlled by a battery operated remote (not wireless, however). “This is a double whammy,” I cried. “If we put two of ‘em together, it’ll be a quadruple whammy!”

Bobbi studied the photo. “We’ll have to make a few modifications,” she murmured. “Otherwise, each woman’s whisper-quiet motor would poke her partner. The two remote control units should be wireless, too.” She looked down at her crotch as if she’d never seen it before, then made a couple of line drawings on the back cover of the catalog. “Okay, I’ve got it. It’s a classic problem of torque. A quick trip to Radio Shack, and we can have a working Quadruple Whammy Vibrating Dildo.” She beamed proudly.

“What about the Reverse?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“It’s supposed to be a Reverse Quadruple Whammy Vibrating Dildo.”

She smiled. “Ah, that’s the beauty of it. Since we’re combining two dildoes into one, we’ll have two remote control units. You can control your partner’s ten pulses and vibes, or you can ‘reverse’,” she made air quotes, “and control your own.”

We got onto the Internet and placed our order online. We even paid an extra $7.95 for Express Delivery, which guaranteed that we’d have our dildoes in three to four business days.

I have a lot of confidence in Bobbi when it comes to electronic stuff, so I felt comfortable in proceeding with our erotic story even though we didn’t have the actual “star” assembled yet. I was quite certain that we wouldn’t be submitting anything outlandish or unrealistic. And the deadline for submissions was looming. Now, where were we?

#

Erin reached under her pillow and pulled out her pride and joy, a Reverse Quadruple Whammy Vibrating Dildo (six AA batteries included [according to the catalog, each remote unit required three AA batteries]). Jane swooned as Erin strapped them in [note to Bobbi: design/make dual harness for RQWVD].

Erin lowered herself over her. Jane wrapped her legs around Erin’s back and pulled her closer, silently urging more of the other woman’s weight against her. Erin raised up slightly, and Jane felt the dildo begin to slide inside her. She felt Erin’s finger brush lightly over her clitoris, and then press the vibrator against it. She realized that Erin had done the same for herself. God, she was hot. So strong, so gentle, so … stop, stop, stop, Jane told herself. She was on the brink of orgasm, and their lovemaking hadn’t even begun. One stroke and she would have an earth-shattering climax. Stop, stop, stop!

Jane desperately wanted to wait for Erin, but she was frantic for release. Erin kissed her then — a deep kiss that penetrated every level of her awareness. She heard Erin’s voice, as if from very far away. Did she want Erin to start slowly? No, no, please no, I can’t wait any longer. She thought she must have spoken aloud, or at least given some indication of what she needed, because suddenly Erin pressed into her, hard, and she had never felt so intensely stimulated in her life. Her vagina thrummed with pleasure. Her clitoris vibrated as never before. She flew instantly over the edge, suspended in paradise, keenly aware of Erin’s own prolonged climax as she pressed hard against her.

Just as her orgasm finally began to ebb, Erin increased the pressure, or the volume, or whatever it was, and it was as though Jane’s hunger hadn’t even begun to be satisfied. Erin brought her quickly to the pinnacle once again. But this time she held her there, and she realized that Erin was in the same place. She closed her eyes and clung to this incredibly sexy woman.

“This is a wonderful feeling,” Erin whispered. “In a moment, we’re going to bring each other to orgasm. Right now, we bond in that certainty.” Suddenly, a mystical, spiritual feeling melded into Jane’s physical need. She felt Erin stiffen, and then begin to shudder against her. Erin cried out her ecstasy, and Jane joined her as they rocketed into heaven and floated gently back to Earth.

They slept for hours. Jane awoke a little before five-thirty in the morning. She didn’t know exactly where she was. She had experienced the greatest sex of her life, and somewhere along the way other feelings had awakened in her for the first time. She was confused. She knew only that she needed time to think, to assimilate the exquisite experience. Her clothes lay crumpled on the floor next to the bed. She struggled into them and slipped out the door.

#

Bobbi read the sex scene. She raised her eyebrows. “It definitely isn’t G-Rated. I’d say it’s R-Rated. The problem is, it’s supposed to be X-Rated. That’s the definition of erotica — X-Rated sex.”

“Not a problem,” I told her. “We can use our word list to ‘flesh it out,’ so to speak.”

We ran through the story and injected a lot of dirty words, as well as an elaborate description of the most effective use of the pulse and vibe settings of the dildo, which was always referenced as singular, despite its plural origins. Toward the end of the story, we realized that RQWVD didn’t cut it as a nickname for the Reverse Quadruple Whammy Vibrating Dildo. We massaged the letters R, Q, V, and W, added a couple of vowels, and came up with “Qwiver.” We dropped the letter D because it was obvious what the Qwiver was, not to mention the fact that finding a place to squeeze in the dildo part would have been a challenge that we didn’t particularly care to tackle. We added an Epilog, which was a parts list and assembly instructions for readers who wanted their own Qwiver. Still, it seemed to lack something.

“I think it lacks substance,” I told Bobbi.

“Substance? I doubt that they’re looking for substance, exactly. Anyway, what do you think is missing?”

“Pee-pee,” I lamented. “We used every other word on the list. We missed pee-pee.”

“I think we should send it in anyway,” she said.

So we named the story “Twitching Clits” and sent it in with my name on it.

#

Meanwhile, across town …

As the anthology submissions began to roll in to Lesbian News and Views, founder Micki Dallas, now in her late forties, devoured every submission with unbridled enthusiasm. Although the stories told of nothing that she herself hadn’t done dozens of times, leaving her far too jaded to be emotionally or physically affected by the content, she enjoyed the freewheeling style of modern lesbian erotica.

One entry in particular delighted her. In Twitching Clits, the author told the usual tale of multiple simultaneous orgasms beyond anyone’s wildest imagination. Nothing new there. But the Epilog was unique. It included a parts list, supply sources, and illustrated assembly instructions for the magical sex toy that was guaranteed to bring the customer to a state of ultimate bliss. Although her lesbian erotica collection was extensive, Micki had never seen anything remotely similar.

“Hey, here’s something different,” she said.

“What?” Phyllis Lattimer, the other half of the staff, didn’t take her eyes off of her computer screen, where she was painstakingly arranging the display ads for page five of the forthcoming issue.

“A description of multiple simultaneous orgasms beyond your wildest imagination.”

Phyllis looked up. “What’s different about that? Except for the ‘simultaneous’ part, almost every story we’ve gotten so far runs along those lines.”

“Yeah, but this one gives a detailed plan on how it can work for you — the reader, I mean.” Micki glanced away quickly. Lesbian bed death was a sore subject with Phyllis, whose partner Joy had completely lost interest in sex over three years earlier.

“I don’t think anything will work in my situation,” Phyllis grumbled. “I’ve tried it all — erotic books, soft porn movies, passionate love letters — nothing turns her on anymore.”

Micki strolled across the room and dropped Twitching Clits on Phyllis’s desk. “Maybe the Reverse Quadruple Whammy Vibrating Dildo would do the trick,” she said with a shrug.

Phyllis glanced at the manuscript. “That’s a new one on me.” She clicked on ‘save’ and closed her file.

Within seconds she was immersed in Twitching Clits. Twenty minutes later, she tossed the manuscript back on her desk and turned to Micki.

“I think we’d have to do a field test,” she said, “before we printed a story like that. I mean, we have a reputation for putting out quality stuff. What if this damn thing doesn’t work properly?”

Micki grinned. “Are you volunteering to do the test?”

“Well … it’s an intriguing idea. I guess I could try it. You gotta admit, if it turns out that it helps with my situation, it would probably work for just about anybody.”

The price for the identical basic dildo was the same at all three of the online seniors’ healthcare suppliers named in the Epilog of Twitching Clits. Phyllis chose the one with the fastest expedited delivery service and placed her order for two dildoes (or “soothing massagers,” as the online catalog called them).

#

When her dildoes arrived three days later, Phyllis was ready. A quick trip to Radio Shack had provided the rest of the needed parts, as well as the batteries. She spent the early afternoon at her desk, where she carefully assembled her Qwiver.

“Well, that’s it,” she announced to Micki as she inserted three AA batteries into the second remote control unit.

“I think we should give it a dry run … so to speak,” suggested Micki. “We want to make sure that when the time is right, you can be ready … as the saying goes.”

They set the device on the chair between them and concentrated on the task at hand. Everything functioned properly. It took them a while to get the hang of the dials on the remote units, and Phyllis was glad she’d taken the opportunity to practice.

After five minutes, Micki switched off her remote. “This thing is sexy as hell,” she chuckled. “If it doesn’t have any effect on Joy, I’d have to say she’s a hopeless case.”

“I agree, and that’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Phyllis said grimly as she put the Qwiver into a grocery bag. She stuffed the bag into her daypack and headed for the door. “Tonight’s the night,” she called back to Micki. “Wish me luck.”

“Looks like a sure thing to me, but good luck anyway,” Micki said with a laugh as her friend left. Alone in the office she muttered, “I sure hope I’m right.”

#

Micki didn’t think about Phyllis or the Qwiver until the next morning, when Phyl didn’t show up for work. She had never been late before. Never. On the rare days when she couldn’t make it to work, she had always phoned in promptly at starting time to let Micki know, and to tell her what tasks absolutely had to be completed by the end of the day. Micki decided to wait until 9:30 to call her at home. But the call wasn’t necessary, because Phyllis staggered into the office at 9:20. She had obviously had very little sleep, if any at all.

That could mean bad news — that Joy had been pushed over the brink of tolerance by Phyl’s attempts with the Qwiver. Micki could picture Joy’s revulsion, the horrible fight that followed, the ultimatum, the decision to split immediately, the resulting sleepless night for Phyl.

On the other hand, it could mean good news — that Phyl had somehow convinced Joy to try the Qwiver, and the results described in Twitching Clits weren’t as outlandish as they seemed at first blush. Micki pictured Joy’s miraculous awakening from lesbian bed death, followed by an exhausting but exhilarating all-nighter.

“Hey, Phyl, you look tired,” she said casually.

Phyllis flung herself into the chair behind her desk. “It worked.” When she looked up at Micki, her face reflected her exhaustion. But a little smile and a twinkle in her eye told the rest of the story. “Omigod, did it ever work.”

“That’s great! That’s monumental! I can’t believe that silly story gave you everything you needed,” Micki enthused.

“Actually, I don’t think the story does justice to the power of the Qwiver. I think a couple of warnings are in order.”

“Warnings?” Micki frowned. “You mean the thing could hurt you?”

“No, that isn’t it, exactly … let’s see, how can I put this?” She gazed at the ceiling fan and began slowly. “With the Qwiver, you start with the best orgasm of your life, hands down. And then, no sooner is it over than you want another one. Then another, and another. It’s like that first time, when you were a kid, all over again. Of course, you eventually run out of steam, as do the AA batteries in the remote units. They only last for about four hours.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Well, we replaced the batteries and kept going. About an hour later, we both started to get pretty sore, so we had to stop. The soreness turned out to be temporary, but we were scared there for a while.”

Micki shuddered. “Yeah, that scares me just to think about it.”

“So I think there should be an advisory included with the instructions. Something like, ‘in case of arousal lasting more than four hours, stop using the Qwiver immediately, as this could cause damage.’”

“But not permanent damage?”

“No. At least not in my experience. Or Joy’s. But tonight we’re quitting as soon as the first set of batteries runs down, just to play it safe.”

“That sounds reasonable. Four hours should be enough for …” she looked at Phyllis with a mischievous grin and continued, “… most people.”

“Under normal circumstances,” Phyllis clarified.

“Yeah, come to think of it, your case is a bit unusual. How did you convince Joy to try the Qwiver in the fist place?”

“It was a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. Remember lava lamps?” When Micki nodded, she continued. “I told her this was a new technological improvement on the lava lamp, and that it was guaranteed to bring about a feeling of total relaxation. What she had to do was strip, lie down on the her back in the dark, and concentrate on relaxing her body completely.”

“But didn’t that arouse her suspicions?”

“Nope. I brought my daypack into the bedroom with the Qwiver still inside. I didn’t take it out until the lights were off, so at that point she didn’t know what it looks like.”

Micki nodded. “That’s good. One look at it, and the cat would have been out of the bag for sure.”

“Right. Once it was dark, I unpacked everything. I started both of the remotes on the lowest settings and put them on the pillow next to her head. Then I brushed the Qwiver against her thigh, ever so lightly, and whispered one of the lines from Twitching Clits.”

“Seriously? Which line?”

“My favorite,” replied Phyllis. She closed her eyes and recited. “Come closer. I’m on the edge. Come closer to me. When I feel you stiffen and thrust against me, when I feel the first wave of your climax, I’ll release my own love and let it wash over you. We’ll soar together.” She opened her eyes.

“That one caught my eye the first time I saw the story,” Micki said. “I was wondering what effect it might have in real life.”

“Earthquake,” said Phyllis. “Nine point oh. In fact, it might have affected me even more than Joy. Anyway, by that time, there was no turning back. She was with me all the way.”

“This is amazing!” Micki cocked her head. “I wonder if we could get the author of Twitching Clits to let us publish just the plans and instructions for the Qwiver. I bet a lot of our readers would love to build one of their own, but that story is pretty lame.”

“Au contraire, amiga,” protested Phyllis. “Over the course of the evening, I tried out every line from that story. If Joy’s reaction is any indication, there’s not a dud in the bunch. I say we put the whole package into the anthology.”

Mick shrugged. “So be it. You can’t argue with success.”

#

Meanwhile, back at the ranch …

Weeks passed and I didn’t hear anything from Lesbian News and Views, so I figured that the story had been rejected. I couldn’t blame them. The more I thought about it, the more I regretted the glaring omission of pee-pee. Then one day out of the blue I got a letter from them saying that Twitching Clits had been accepted for the erotica anthology. I signed the papers they sent and mailed them back. A long time after that, the anthology got published, I got a check for $8.75, and the whole lesbian world got to see our Twitching Clits.

#

Several months later, we were sitting in the Brass Bucket one Sunday afternoon and Bobbi was reading the latest issue of Lesbian News and Views. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she said, “that erotica anthology got nominated for the Mavis Moss Award. That’s quite an honor.”

“Truly amazing,” I agreed.

Less than a week afterward, I got another letter from Lesbian News and Views. As a contributor to the anthology, I was entitled to a complimentary ticket to the award ceremony of the “Mavis Moss GLBT Collective,” the organization that gave out the coveted awards. The ceremony was being held right downtown, so I decided to go. I was anxious to meet the other authors, and maybe exchange ideas on writing technique and word lists.

#

It turned out to be a gala event. It was already crowded when I got there. There were dozens of tables, each one seating eight people. I spotted a seat at a nearby table of women and headed for it.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” I asked the woman next to the empty seat.

She looked me up and down, twice. “Yeah,” she said.

“Oh, okay. Say, do you know if there’s a table for the authors of the erotica anthology?”

Her eyes widened. “Um … no, I don’t. Um … why don’t you just sit here?” she said.

“But you just told me this seat’s taken,” I protested. I was getting a little uncomfortable, because the other six women at the table were suddenly eyeing me intently.

“Sit down,” one of them ordered.

I sat.

“Which story did you write?” asked my new friend, whose name turned out to be Katie.

“Twitching Clits,” I replied.

There was some collective mumbling, and a few nods of approval. Katie was smiling broadly.

The ceremony wore on for hours. There were marches up to the stage to collect the Mosses, speeches thanking everybody who was ever born, and applause every twenty seconds. The erotica anthology didn’t win, but of course it’s an honor just to be nominated.

When it was finally over, Katie suggested that we have a drink. I was parched, so I thought it was a great idea. She ordered a Bloody Mary, and I got a beer.

“So tell me,” she said, “how long have you been writing erotica?”

“As a matter of fact, Twitching Clits is my first story.”

“Mm, a woman of few words. I like that.”

“Have you read the story?” I asked.

“Are you kidding? Who hasn’t? Half the women I know used the info in the Epilog to make their own Qwiver. And everybody’s studied the sex scenes in detail, hoping to become an expert on the pulse and vibe settings.”

“But … it’s just a story. It’s fiction,” I spluttered.

She winked at me. “Fiction always has some basis in fact, as we all know. When can we expect your next story?”

“I’m not sure. That’s one reason I came here tonight. I have to expand my erotica vocabulary. Right now I only have ten words on my list. I’d like to learn more, so I can write better stories.”

She laughed softly. “So, would you be interested in plunging into my wetness?”

I looked at her Bloody Mary. I hate vodka. If she’d been drinking scotch or bourbon, I might have considered it. But not vodka.

“I think I’ll just finish my beer,” I said.

“Yes, let’s not rush it,” she replied, gazing into my eyes.

I finished my beer and said my good-byes to Katie. Suddenly she was extremely upset.

“I thought you wanted to come upstairs to my room,” she said indignantly.

“What for?” I asked.

Her eyes widened, as if she’d been struck by a bolt of recognition. “You’re a phony,” she said angrily.

I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but never a phony. True, my erotic vocabulary is limited to only ten words (counting pee-pee), but to be fair there are some synonyms in there too. For instance, I could fudge a little and say that pulsate/throb/twitch is actually three words. Besides, I’ve heard that Ernest Hemingway had a vocabulary of only 750 words, and everybody knows he was a genius. So I thought her opinion of me was unfair, and I told her so. She really let me have it.

“Do you hold nothing sacred?” she spat. “You think this is all just a big joke, don’t you? Everything is grist for your sick humor mill.”

And with that, she stormed out, leaving me to pay for her drink.

#

“Well, there it is, the plot for your next story,” Bobbi said when I told her what had happened.

I didn’t get it, but after we toyed around with it for a while, the pieces fell into place. An erotica writer meets a fan of erotic stories at the Moss Awards. They have a drink and go to the fan’s hotel room where, during a particularly innovative session with the Qwiver, they make a shocking discovery regarding the pulse and vibe settings. They fall asleep, but a few hours later the writer wakes up and goes home. The End.

The plan is to expand the word list before we do anything else. Then we’ll write the story. Bobbi’s grandmother told her that the seniors’ healthcare catalogs are constantly coming out with revolutionary improved dildoes. We plan to incorporate the new products into the design of the “Qwiver II” and to provide the new parts list and assembly instructions as the story’s Epilog. When everything is done, we’ll send the whole package off to Lesbian News and Views for next year’s anthology. I think we’ve got something going here.

- End -

If you have enjoyed Vicki Stevenson's "A Call For Submission", then please be certain to  Contact The Writer  and thank her for posting this Story.

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