Katherine V. Forrest - Lesbian Pulp Fiction

“You were sick! I told them you were sick, Mitch!” Mitch wanted to stop the angry tone. She lay quiet and another paper chased across the room and landed on top of her on the bed.

“Mitch, I’m sorry I’m so snappish. I just feel like hell. It wasn’t easy.”

“I know what it must have been like, Leda.”

“It was hell.”

“Does—does anyone know? Anyone else, I mean?”

“Just Marsha and those two.”

“It’ll be hard tomorrow. What’ll I tell them when they ask what was wrong?”

Leda turned her pillow over on the side. Then she got up and put a bottle of ink on top of the papers so they wouldn’t blow any more. “It won’t be hard,” she said. “They won’t even talk about it. Just go along as though nothing happened.”

“Leda, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Quit saying that! What in the name of God do you think I am, your holy savior?”

The night air was crisp and Mitch snuggled down in the covers. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she kept listening for Leda to say more. When she didn’t, Mitch said, “I just want to say one more thing, Leda. I’ll always stick by you—always. You mean more to me than anyone I know.”

Leda didn’t answer.

The unashamed story of a girl’s journey to the well of forbidden knowledge

It began at the summer camp, when Peggy Matthews and Lillian Parker met in the counselors’ cabin. After that, curiosity and desire had their way, but Peggy had no idea of what she was getting into. …

Dr. Herbert Greene says: “The Summer Camp is the unforgettable story of an eighteen-year-old girl losing control of her emotions. Her affairs with men as victim, then aggressor…her affairs with women, tentative, then greedy and unashamed…are delineated with valid insights. This is nothing less than a classic case history of modern lesbianism.”

“Peggy, I wish I could. But I—I just can’t. If I speak that name, all of us will be destroyed.”

“Is it Mike? It must be. It’s Mike, isn’t it? It can’t be Pam or Lilian or anybody like that. Dorothy and Ruth have a crush on each other—surely neither would be interested in me. So it has to be Mike. Mike made a play for me. She—”

“Watch your mouth! Lots of girls get crushes on each other, but that doesn’t make them gay.”

“Gay? What’s gay?”

“Oh, skip it. Peggy, I simply can’t mention names. I refuse to discuss Mike or anybody else.” Beth gazed down at Peggy, huddled at her feet. Suddenly the nurse kneeled, lifted the girl’s chin with a finger, forcing Peggy to look at her. In a kindlier tone, she said, “You’re afraid, aren’t you? You’ve been afraid all this time.”

Beth’s voice was calm now, natural, not insinuating. “You’re afraid of this girl who violated you—and you’re afraid of yourself.”

Peggy’s eyes flashed to the nurse.

“You’re afraid that you liked it too much,” Beth said.

“Yes!” In that instant a tumult of confusion rushed over Peggy. She wanted to throw herself into those compassionate arms and cry on the golden shoulder as she had not done since she was a child; she wanted to unburden herself as never before. “Beth, whether I’m afraid or not, I’ve got to know. I’ve got to discover what I am.”

“You’re a nice, perfectly healthy girl. You have nothing to worry about.” The nurse edged nearer. One hand fell to Peggy’s arm. “All right, so you had an episode with a woman. But it meant nothing. Happens every day. Often young girls like you come into bodily contact with other girls, feel some sort of physical sensation, and immediately begin to have doubts about themselves. They are afraid of their reactions—and ashamed—but that doesn’t make them one of my kind—”

“Your kind?”

“That’s right. I’m a genuine lesbian, truly twisted, and I know it.”

“But what if I am, too?” Peggy said, thinking of her aversion to the male sex. “How am I to find out?”

For an instant she was sure she saw a different expression in Beth’s eyes. The kind of expression Ted used to get when Peggy would pull away from him in order to take off her clothes.

But Beth had control of herself again. She smiled, and tried to answer Peggy’s question. “You’ll find out in time. Try not to let it bother you now. You’re much too young to become enmeshed in this sort of thing—no matter what you are.”

“Beth, I’ve got to know.” And with more resolution than she would have thought possible, Peggy said, “I want you to kiss me.”

The nurse looked away. “No.”

Peggy scrambled to her knees. “Please, Beth,” she pleaded. “You mean so much to me. Help me.”

“Peggy, I—”

Peggy lifted her face. “Please.” She moved a little closer. Her mouth was almost touching Beth’s.

With a cry that was like a sob, Beth clutched Peggy to her. Beth’s lips, soft and warm, touched Peggy’s.

At last they broke away. Peggy’s heart was pounding. Fever seemed to have possessed her blood. Strange hot prickles assailed her nerves. She looked at Beth—soft and warm and alluring. The nurse was not in uniform now, but in blue stretch slacks donned against the rain and damp. Her womanly hips were faithfully outlined. Her breasts strained against the blue of the button-down man’s oxford shirt she wore. Her hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders. How beautiful, thought Peggy. How utterly beautiful. She put an arm around the nurse’s waist.

“Oh, Beth—”

“No, Peggy, no more.” She started to rise, but the younger girl, stronger, held her down.

Peggy said once again, “I have to know.”

“You don’t make love to find something out, Peggy.”

The girl tossed her head, yellow ponytail flicking like a banner. “I’m not attractive to you? You don’t want me?”

“Want has little to do with it.”

Peggy forced Beth’s hand to touch her full young breast. “Tell me you want me.”

“Don’t do this to us,” Beth begged. “Don’t do it to yourself.”

“I have to know,” Peggy insisted.

“God help us,” moaned Beth. Her arms went around Peggy.

The two fell back upon the soft, damp grass, their eager lips clinging. For the first time Peggy knew the sensation of another woman’s tongue darting and circling against her own. So acute was the thrill that her bones seemed to turn to water.

Then Beth came up for air. Pulling away, she slowly opened Peggy’s simple camp blouse. Loosening the bra, she exclaimed with delight as Peggy’s breasts tumbled forth. At first Beth was gentle as she kissed and fondled the trembling, youthful bosom. Peggy’s heart jumped as the woman’s lips touched each rosy nipple, hands stroking all the while, searching sweetly, trailing fire from the fingertips.

For a while Peggy lay still, basking in every touch, every tender kiss, every deliberately inciting stroke. But as Beth’s hands and lips roamed, Peggy began to writhe on the ground. She burrowed closer to the older woman, sent her hand up under the oxford shirt. When her hand touched the soft roundness of Beth’s quivering breasts, a glorious burst of white-hot bliss lashed Peggy’s body. With reckless lust she loosened Beth’s slacks, touched the nylon beneath. At the same time she felt Beth’s clever fingers at her shorts. The fingers cunningly slid and stroked. “Oh, sweet Beth,” groaned Peggy.

No longer could she concentrate on every touch and kiss. Her whole being seemed engulfed by wave upon wave of fiery pleasure. Then, in a burst of purest ecstasy, she crested. The whole world seemed to explode inside of her. Slowly Peggy drifted down to earth. For long minutes she lay quietly, her head on Beth’s lap, a hand still on Beth’s bare breast.