Under the cover of night, shadowy figures crept across a lot to enter a building lined with yellow tape. Its windows were blacked out with dark paper.
Inside, they flipped on the lights and dimmed them. They were all a dozen, women. Some wore little to nothing, as though they just came from a pool or beach. They slipped up the stairs and climbed to third story.
By candle-light in a studio room, they convened.
By their hair, they were black, red, blond, brown, and some dyed pink or blue, and ranged from long-haired to curly short hair, one had a buzz-cut.
They were regulars at the lesbian bars. They hooked up and knew each other eventually through shared partners and after a change of numbers, decided to group together and convene regularly.
One of them, Sally Bizi, owned a building. She loaned them the building and for a while, it was their group’s sex-capade away from prying eyes. Under conditions they visited even lived there.
Although cults formed and fell apart, some stuck together. And sometimes, more popularly in Les Spirites City, wore distinctive thigh belts, or garners as some called them. They distinguished themselves from similar groups using a different color. Throughout Les Spirites, some wore purple, green, yellow, black, brown, grey, pink, red, maroon, aqua, violet, as many colors as there were in rainbow. It didn’t matter how many color there are, so long as they could tell each other apart. Others wore rings of different colors: no lesbian or group was same, and every group was different. They made a decision to be different: and organized as lesbians so rarely do. Some went into business, owned locales, and hosted lesbians or employed them.
Sally was one self-made lesbian: and her eleven partners in this evening was proof: the night was theirs.
They wore maroon garners and wore three each. 3 Degrees of lesbianism as one joked the night before.
They waged their sex game. From the first floor, they came a long way in their game: wearing one for the first floor. The winner took her opponent’s thigh belt and made it to the second floor: with the other victors, gained a third. So tonight, on the third floor, all the third-degree lesbians sex wrestlers put on their thigh belts and divided into six groups. Initially, sex had appeal: but it grew tiresome, and the stakes needed to be higher, so they threw in scores, garners, and occasionally, cash.
In dark rooms, they fingered each other and grunted futilely. A sheen of sweat formed on their arms, and beads of water on their foreheads. When they ran their hands down their thighs, they wipe off a slap of water. Some took minutes, others longer: the conclusion was the same, and a winner made it through without orgasming first. They took their beds and the next night, wrestled until the last pair took together with arms and fingers. The winner stripped off the thigh belt from her defeated opponent and triumphly tied it to her thigh. Her name was Kelly.
Before she made it to the fourth floor, she collected a check and packed new clothes. At the fourth floor, she found a more permanent home. What a fourth-degree lesbian did was a common question among the first, second, and third floors. It was a question that pulled them through floor 1, 2, and 3. With each floor, generally came increased benefits and responsibilities. Kelly remembered the first floor: it was mostly menial labors, and guaranteed position clearing or cooking for the company, under Sally. Sally was intense in bed, but as a boss, she was fair but asked for the best.
By the second floor, the bar was high but so were the benefits. The second-degree lesbians had to learn a physical skill. They took dancing, some took pole-dancing to increase their fitness. As a rule, each did as they want. But in the building, under a woman a few rules were required just to earn a free place to stay overnight. The cost was low, and the lesbians came together quite well under physical exercises, and grew closer. Jobs ranged from security to overnight watch.
By the third-floor, they acquired some general cert or degree in business or counseling. As a rule, the bar grew higher: so did the benefits. Kelly knew she was being groomed: they all were under Sally Bizi. The more common lesbian lived for a night of physical gratification. Under Sally, they did more: formed bonds, found abilities they didn’t knew they could, and at the fourth floor,
Kelly found work as an administrator, with her background in business at a local community college. Sally took her aside for a night of physical passions, and concluded the night with a promise of future floors and work: to further a group, a culture, and perhaps later an empire under their hard work.
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Shared with permission from a LBG Creative Writing Group. Written by Kate M. McCloy. No copyrights intended. Free to share, use, and modify.