As my gift to you I am posting it here for free. I hope you enjoy it. This is a sweet story. I know most of my stories are hot and steamy but not this one. It is also contemporary so a bit different. I hope you enjoy reading it though.
LITTLE RED DRESS
The Little Red Dress Party at the convention center served as ladies night out before the Christmas rush began. Many of the women were squealing and celebrating a night away from their husbands, boyfriends, and children. I, on the other hand, paid the $25 for ticket to ogle all the scantily clad females in attendance.
Sitting at the bar, I sipped on a cranberry juice cocktail, keeping one eye on the dance floor. People watching hadn’t gotten too interesting yet, as none in attendance were plastered. Snowflake-shaped colored lights danced across the dark room. I had worried the party would be too much holiday cheer for me to take, but so far the DJ had stayed away from any song that mentioned the winter season. The last song “Six Pack Summer” nearly made me laugh. Perhaps thinking about sunshine and beaches employed the power of positive thinking?
Outside snow fell in a constant white sheet, and I knew the roads would be a slick sheet of ice by the time the party ended at midnight. Good thing I had taken a taxi here and planned to call one to take me home. Let the cab driver deal with this miserable weather.
A woman with silver streaks in her hair and a leopard print shrug over her red dress walked up to the bar. I thought she’d sit at the chair next to me but she just smiled. “It is a dance party, you know? Why don’t you dance? Have some fun.”
I laughed and raised my glass. “I am having fun.”
“You came here just for the drinks?”
“There are free appetizers, too,” I pointed out. Platters of mini muffins, grapes, cheese, crackers, salami and other finger foods lined a long banquet table along one of the walls.
She cocked an eyebrow and looked to be struggling for her next words.
I waved her off. “I’m not a very good dancer,” I explained. “Maybe after a refill I will feel more confident to get out there.”
She gave a quick nod, apparently satisfied by my response.
I needed a good song to dance too, and preferably a partner. Finishing my drink, I paid for a refill.
I’d come to look not touch, I reminded myself. Running into another lesbian in the crowd would be quite lucky considering the small number of us in this rural, conservative community. If I was truly looking for love I should move to the city. There they actually had bars where lesbians hung out. No such options here.
And this holiday dance party wasn’t exactly rocking my socks off. Although thanks to the Kiss under the Mistletoe drink a warm flush had spread across my body.
I moved away from the bar and found a table with a good view of the dance floor. The dance floor I had yet to grace with my presence. I snorted. I was born with two left feet. Two very large left feet. The other ladies should be relieved I was keeping them out of harm’s way.
I eyed a blonde woman with luscious curves on top and bottom of her five foot five frame. Her long hair hung loose over her shoulders and swayed with her as she moved. Back turned, I took in her open-backed dress. Eyes closed, she seemed to be in her own little world as if listening to music playing in her head instead of the song blasting out of the speakers.
I fanned myself with one of the masks provided for those in attendance. The black mask with silver glitter trim did little to cool the heat growing in my chest. I wetted my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. Maybe I should push my way through the crowd and head to the drinking fountain.
Except that would mean leaving this woman and she could be lost in the crowd again by the time I returned. After all, I had been here an hour and had just now spied her. Wow, she was stunning.
Once the song ended, her eyes opened and she stared right at me.
Her cornflower blues framed by thick lashes were model worthy. Damn her whole body was model worthy. Why was she here instead of New York or Las Angeles? Then I realized her stature was against her. The world was against short people.
I didn’t put a height requirement on my women and I appreciated beauty when I saw it. My heart forgot how to beat and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her. At first glance it looked like she was showing entirely too much skin until I realized the sheer dress had a nude underlay between the red flowers covering her front. God, that was sexy. Had she realized I was watching her? My cheeks burned, and I hoped she couldn’t see their rosy color in the dark room.
She offered a friendly smile and then sauntered over to the bar. While I didn’t need another drink, I followed. It was like an invisible cord had tied the two of us together. She sat and I took the seat next to her.
“Back so soon?” The bartender asked a hint of laughter in his voice.
“Just water this time,” I said, handing him a dollar. He nodded and set a bottled water on the counter. It gave me the opportunity to quench my thirst without leaving this woman’s presence. Well worth a dollar.
“What drink is good?” the woman asked me.
“I’ve only tried Kiss under the Mistletoe. It is pretty good if you like cranberries.”
She nodded and ordered one for herself. I would have ordered it for her, but that would seem very forward and she was likely straight anyway.
“Are you here with someone?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I was going to come here with a friend but she caught the flu that’s going around.”
“Oh, sorry to hear that.”
She sipped her drink. The way her lips caressed the rim of the glass made mine tingle. I wondered what it would feel like for that soft pink glossy mouth to touch mine.
I drew a deep breath pushing the thought away. It was foolish to get so worked up. My gaydar hadn’t gone off.
“This is very good. Thanks for the recommendation.”
“I’m glad you like it. Not sure what the secret ingredient is,” I eyed the bartender before returning my attention to the beauty, “but he won’t say.”
She laughed and my heart fluttered. “And he shouldn’t. It is a secret after all.”
I grinned, glad to see her enjoying herself. If I could soak in some of her happiness maybe her joyful spirit would rub off on me. My friends were right I needed to get out more. Being a homebody did nothing to boost my spirits or improve my love life.
I took a gulp of my bottled water wishing it was burning liquor. Something strong would be better to rid myself of the ache in my chest. How long had it been since my last serious relationship with a woman? I’d moved to this small town for a job. The job was great but the partner hunting sucked. Three years now? No, it had been four years since I’d been with a woman past the second date.
Not that this was a date.
The woman’s tongue darted out of her mouth and swiped across her lips. “I’m Traci, by the way. Traci with an i.”
I liked that name. It was fun and flirty and matched her personality and her short red dress. The dress that left little to my imagination with the ballerina skirt and cute cap sleeves.
“Nice to meet you.” Instead of shaking my hand, Traci briefly touched my shoulder and I stiffened, heat seeping into my skin.
“Marta,” she repeated as if seeing how it sounded.
I shrugged. “It is a family name,” I explained. “I’m named after my great-great grandmother. There are a lot of Marta’s in my family.”
“Likely none who could wear a red dress as good as you. That’s a classic. Jackie O style with jagged neckline and a little black belt.”
My eyes widened. “You know fashion?”
She took another drink. “Fashion is what I do. Well, I don’t model or anything. I’m not tall enough for that.” She giggled. “Not even with three inch heels.”
I tapped my fingers on my water bottle. “So what fashion do you do? Make the outfits?”
“Heavens no I can’t sew one stitch. I photograph them. I fly all around the country taking pictures of pampered models. So I’ve learned a thing or two about fashion.”
“I see. So what brings you to this small town?”
“Visiting family for the holidays,” she said. “And I try to make this party every year.”
It wasn’t much of a party. Traci could find a better celebration anywhere she traveled with the models, but if she came to the Little Red Dress Party regularly I would just add it to my calendar and start the habit myself.
She continued sipping her drink and I watched the red liquid drop faster to the bottom than I’d like. When she finished I guessed she’d leave. Then what would I do? I couldn’t just politely ogle her the rest of the evening.
“I’m a lightweight,” she announced finishing her Kiss under the Mistletoe cocktail. “We better dance before I buy another.”
The warning and invitation in her voice made my body thrum. It was I who had probably had one too many already. Even though I’d only had two drinks I felt giddy. Or maybe it was just the effect Traci had on me. She hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. By dance she didn’t mean dance together. There were at least forty women crowding the dance floor all doing their own moves.
“Sure,” I said, standing. I hadn’t done any dancing yet. It was time I cut loose.
I followed Traci on to the dance floor, keeping a couple steps behind so I could appreciate her form and the sway of her hips. Oh my goodness that dress of hers was a tease. I had hoped the DJ would play a slower song next, but instead the man on stage turned on “Eye of the Tiger”.
The women went wild. Everyone started singing along, showing off their feminine wiles, hands in the air. Not wanting to feel left out, I joined in, jazz fingers and all. I didn’t feel goofy when I was dancing next to Traci. If she could throw caution to the wind and let her hair down I could too.
Not that I had hair to let down. I maintained a cute graduated bob. Tonight I’d even gone through the trouble of curling my short brunette locks.
After the song ended “Night That You’ll Never Forget” played next and the women arranged themselves into three lines on the dance floor. It seemed everyone knew the secret moves that went with this song. “To the right, to the right, to the left.” The move of each line followed those directions as I’d expected. Watching Traci out of the corner of my eye, I was able to fake it well. At least I think I did. I managed to make it through the song without falling down or knocking anyone over.
“Whew,” Traci said, hand on her chest. “I need to catch my breath.”
I tried to keep my attention on her lovely face and not the rise and fall of her chest. It was very difficult.
“Two energetic songs back to back are all I can handle,” Traci said. “Shall we find a seat?”
This was the opening I needed to keep Traci all to myself for a few more minutes. My heart fluttered and I struggled to tamp down my excitement. “I think that would be a good idea.” The table I had been sitting at earlier was now taken. All the tables had filled up so I walked to the back of the room and sat on the bench that had been erected along the wall.
“You dance quite well, Marta,” Traci said, sitting next me.
I laughed. “And you are a very good liar.”
She giggled and I put my hands in my lap to keep from giving her a hug. The urge to touch her was so great I would have sat on my hands if that wouldn’t have looked odd.
Traci motioned to the ladies still out on the dance floor. “I don’t know how they do it,” she mused. “I know I’m out of shape, but I didn’t think I was that out of shape.”
“You look pretty good in that dress,” I said, more heat in my voice than I intended.
“Thank you,” she said, beaming. “I was afraid it would be too much. Thankfully no one stopped me at the door to make sure I wasn’t a hooker. A cute cocktail dress like this is all the rage in New York City but I didn’t know what the conservatives around here would think.”
“You were worried about other people’s opinions and you wore it anyway?”
She nodded. “I might worry about what other people think but I do what I want.”
“I wish I was that adventurous,” I mumbled.
“Not really adventurous,” Traci replied and then I realized I had accidentally said that last comment aloud. “It has to do more with self-confidence.”
“Ah.” It was all I could think of to say. Lately my self-confidence had been in the toilet. I worked as a receptionist at the hospital and greeted people constantly. I had become adept at my professionally friendly demeanor. It was more of an act than the real me though. I was nowhere that bubbly in real life.
Loneliness fed depression and depression fed loneliness. It was a vicious cycle I needed to break somehow.
“Got a man in your life?” Traci asked out of the blue.
“Um…” How should I answer this question? Should I hedge? Should I come right out and say I was a lesbian? Would Traci end up running away from me as fast as she could? I mean I wasn’t doing anything inappropriate but some people just didn’t feel comfortable around gays and lesbians.
“No man in my life,” I said at last.
Her brows rose and a playful glint shone in her eyes. “A woman?”
Her question caught me off guard and I struggled to breathe. The saliva in my mouth slid thickly down my throat. “No woman either,” I replied softly.
“Hmm… What do you want to do now? Dance more or get a drink?”
After her brief probe into my love life I needed a drink. “I’m headed back to the bar.”
“Okay,” she replied cheerfully and accompanied me.
The smell of sweat and a mixture of perfumes and deodorants crinkled my nose. At the end of the night the dance floor would smell like a football locker room. I ordered two Kiss under the Mistletoe drinks and Traci didn’t protest. Not sure if she read anything into my gesture or not. I wasn’t about to ask.
“Thank you,” Traci said, raising the glass to her lips. After finishing half the drink she laughed uncontrollably. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Marta?”
“After two drinks?” I replied innocently.
She giggled even harder. “I guess it was partly my fault,” she said, staring at the glass of red liquid. “I’m drinking on an empty stomach. I got busy today and ran out of time.”
“Ran out of time to eat?”
She shrugged. “If the models I work with can live off carrot sticks why can’t I?”
I growled clearly not liking the idea of Traci starving herself to death. “Time to get you something to eat.”
“But I’m not done with my drink,” she protested.
“You can take it with you.” Grabbing her arm, I led her through the crowd to the appetizer table. As if on cue, a pizza delivery man came into the room with a stack of eight pizza boxes in his arms.
Some of the women cheered and there was a rush to attack the pizzas once they were laid on the table. I politely elbowed my way to the front and got two plates, handing one to Traci. “Eat up,” I said. “I think the price of the pizza came out of our ticket cost.”
Not that she cared about the ticket price when she was making a fortune photographing models. I always thought I’d be the one to take care of my partner, but I knew my meager salary paled in comparison to her earnings.
Gah. Not that that mattered at all. I wasn’t taking care of her. Well, not after the party ended.
Traci put two slices of pepperoni on her plate. “I like it spicy,” she said, eyeing the pizza with a hunger I wished was directed at me. Just the thought made me shiver. Don’t go there.
“They’re just trying to make me thirsty again,” Traci continue, unfazed by my momentary struck dumb moment. “The bartender is going to make a fortune in tips.”
“No more cocktails for you until you eat your pizza.” We both need some bread to soak up the booze.
“All right if you insist.”
I grabbed two pieces of Hawaiian for myself and we returned to our seats on the bench, plates of pizza in our laps. I hoped I didn’t smear pizza sauce all over my red dress or my face. I didn’t know which would be more mortifying.
After eating the pizza I felt a lot better and it seemed Traci did too. She was no longer prone to fits of giggles. That was until she headed back to the bar. I wondered if I should stop her, but she was an adult and if she wanted to get drunk that was her right. I’d just make sure she had a safe ride home.
Instead of ordering another cocktail I plunked down another dollar for a bottled water.
“Have another drink with me,” Traci said.
“I am drinking with you,” I said, raising my water.
She huffed and her pout was adorable. “You know what I mean.”
“You have fun,” I said, “but I prefer to be able to walk upright if I have to navigate the busy dance floor.”
Traci’s eyes widened. “Dance! We should dance some more.”
Without warning, Traci grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the dance area while “Sweet Home Alabama” blared.
That was as good a dance song as any.
Traci wobbled in her high heels and I wondered if I could catch her if she stumbled or if we’d both go down and make a scene. Having Traci land on top of me might not be too bad, but I didn’t want to risk either of us getting hurt.
Her dainty fingers slipped from my arm and she began to dance to the music, a little unsteady.
I did my best not to hover too close. The woman needed space to strut her stuff, but I wanted to make sure I could offer a steadying arm if need be.
Almost to the end of the song, a plastered brunette stumbled, knocking into Traci and sending her plowing up against me.
Instinctively I reached out and wrapped my arms around her. “I’ve got you.”
She grinned and her warm breath fanned my face. I pursed my lips together to keep from kissing. Slowly I pushed her away until she was standing upright. I hated the distance between us and missed the warmth of her body pressed against mine.
What was I thinking?
“We should get out of here,” Traci suggested.
“And go where?”
She shrugged. “Either your place or mine.”
I blinked. “Um…and do what? Watch movies?” I did have an extensive movie collection and I could pop popcorn. Spending more time with Traci would be wonderful even if resisting her charms would be painful.
Heat blazed in her eyes and her gaze dropped from my face and traveled lower taking all of me in. “I can think of better things to do than watch movies.”
My whole body tingled. “Oh.”
I didn’t want to take advantage of Traci though. Was she just drunk and maybe curious? If we did more than hold hands would she regret it later? Or would she like it?
We’d take it slow and I’d find out. She might be acting horny now, but I wasn’t going to push her even though I longed to see her naked and on my bed.
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound casual and failing. “I’ll call a cab.”
Walking out of the room, I retrieved my coat from the coat check and pulled my cellphone out of my purse, calling the taxi service I’d programmed into my contacts.
Taking deep breaths, I tried to relax. How long had it been since I’d taken a woman home? At least four years. Did I even know what I was doing?
My body thrummed. Definitely.
Offering Traci my arm, I helped her walk across the snow covered ground. Thankfully, the snow provided some traction and there weren’t too many slick spots. Opening the door for her, I let her enter the cab first. We sat in silence for a few minutes until the taxi driver had pulled onto the main road leading to my house.
“Have you ever done this before?” I asked, unable to keep my voice from shaking.
I wanted her to say yes and no at the same time. If she was just curious I’d give her the pleasure she sought. If she was serious about something more I could give her that, too.
“Mmm-hmm,” Traci purred. “Just not for a long time.”
My breath caught in my throat. Did I hear that right? “So…you’re…into women?”
“Both,” she admitted. “I’m bi.”
“Oh.” Now it started to make sense. “I take it you’ve been dating men?”
“There are lots of hot guys hanging around the models,” Traci explained, “and when I told my mom I was bi she made it clear she expected grandchildren. So I’ve spent more time with men. But I’m not dating anyone right now and am interested in you.”
The way she said interested heated my core. I knew exactly what she meant and I couldn’t wait get her home.
I didn’t understand how such a gorgeous woman had been attracted to me, but I wasn’t going to argue if fate wanted to give me an early Christmas present.
“How long are you in town?”
“Extended holiday. I don’t leave until after New Year’s.” She reached across the seat and interlocked her fingers with mine. “We have plenty of time, Marta. And I want to get to know all about you.”
I hope you enjoyed reading the Little Red Dress.
Do you like F/F reads?
Check out my F/F historical romance The Virgin Madam
After a vicious outlaw murders her father, Laura Rutherford sees no future beyond running the family brothel and kowtowing to the local gang. Not even marriage offers escape. No man can compete with the beautiful women who dance the cancan for her each night...at least not until a gentle stranger sweeps in and opens her eyes to desires too long denied.
Joe Bascum stumbles into Bitterroot Flats looking for a place to hide from a gunman out for blood. When the innocent madam from the local brothel offers a bed and bath, Joe accepts hoping to show the buttoned-up beauty just how right forbidden desire can feel.
When danger escalates, can Laura help Joe defeat the famous Fletcher gang, or is she destined to live a lonely life as the virgin madam?
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