THE GIFT OF LILITH
by Myla Jackson
"I will tell you my favorite story from this book was titled “The Gift of Lilith” by Myla Jackson. I have never read a story that touched my heart as much as this did. Ms Jackson has managed to write the most romantic, touching story of true love I’ve ever read. This story does have some sad elements to it, but it really got to me.
I’d highly recommend this book to everyone straight, lesbian, bi, it doesn’t matter. There are stories here that you need to read and experience.
And a final note regarding the editor Delilah Devlin. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say she is borderline genius for putting together this fantastic lineup of stories. I truly hope she will consider putting out a volume two."
Music thrummed, vibrating against the soles of my shoes, the beat fast and steady, like the heart thumping against my ribcage. The moon rose high above the Chicago skyline, a perfect night for anything to happen.
Normally, I avoided parties, preferring my solitude. When you lived to be over two hundred years old, parties lost their appeal. I'd never liked social engagements, never felt comfortable with idle chatter, flirting and inane conversation. I feared I'd say too much, reveal the truth and expose myself to those who would think me crazy. By distancing myself, I'd gained little experience in the art of mingling.
Tonight, however, was different. Tonight Molly would be there.
I wondered yet again if I should have stayed at home reading a book. But the image of Molly standing there in a her very short, tight black dress, her red hair gathered loosely up on her head flashed in my mind and I couldn't sit still. The desperate excitement flashing in Molly's green eyes worried me. Ever since her visit to her doctor, she'd been acting strange and secretive.
She'd spent the evening primping in the apartment over mine. I could smell her perfume through the walls as I lounged on my sofa, imagining her standing in her black lace bra and thong panties, adding blush to her cheeks and eyeliner to frame her emerald eyes.
Then her bare feet had pattered down the wood stair steps and she'd enter without knocking, holding two dresses in front of her, wearing nothing but the skimpy black lace panties and a strapless bra that pushed her ample bosoms up and out.
"Need your help, Katherine." Molly shook a red dress, then the black dress. "Which one?"
"What's the occasion?"
Her eyebrows rose into the fiery red of the hair swinging down over her forehead. "I want to party like there's no tomorrow. Get dressed and come with me."
"Sorry, I'm not into parties."
Molly's brows twisted. "Sometimes I don't get you." She planted a hand on the sweet swell of her hip. "How long have we known each other?"
I frowned. "Two years."
"Long enough to know me." Molly's eyelids drooped. "I've been watching you." She tossed the dresses over the back of the sofa as if she'd made a decision. She crossed to where I sat and perched her pert little ass on the sofa's arm, her naked knees touching my silk-pajama-clad legs.
I could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric and my heartbeat stuttered. "So, you've been watching me."
Molly's pale fingers stroked my long, straight black hair. "I know more than you think."
I cleared my throat, every part of me screaming to take her hand and guide it lower to that aching place between my legs. "What do you know about me?"
"Right now you want to touch me."
I looked up, my eyes wide. "I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, don't go getting all proper on me." She trailed her fingers along the curve of my cheek and down the V of my neckline. "I know you've been watching me too." She tweaked the point of my nipple, standing out against the royal blue silk shirt.
My hand came up, covering the breast to keep her from touching it again. "Why did you do that?"
"Because I've wanted to for a long time." Molly crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "You liked it, didn't you?"
"No, of course not. I prefer men."
"Then why haven't I seen one come to your apartment in the two years I've lived here?"
"Perhaps I go to theirs." I hadn't been to a man's apartment in several years. They no longer interested me. I found myself more and more interested in the lively redhead living above me. I'd wondered at my change in tastes after all these years. But then everyone who met Molly loved her. Her zest for life, the happiness that shone from every particle of her being was like a beacon tempting the lonely into her light.
Molly's leg slid along mine, her knees parting, displaying a wide swath of her peaches-and-cream thigh. "See? You're looking now."
"How can I not when you practically planted yourself in my lap?" Oh, indeed, I was looking, more than I'd ever thought possible at any woman. But then Molly wasn't any woman. She was...Molly.
"I got a bikini wax just for tonight." Molly grabbed my hand and ran my fingers beside the triangle of black lace. "Smooth, isn't it?"
I couldn't resist. She was smooth and as silky as my lounging pajamas. I swallowed hard, wanting to slide my fingers beneath the lace of her panties, but proper ladies of the early eighteen hundreds didn't contemplate such deviances. I removed my hand from her crotch. "Do you always prance around in your unmentionables?"
"Only for the people I want to do the unmentionable with." She leaned close and whispered in my ear, "Ever do it with a girl?"