Bodice-rippers
This is the beginning of an erotic book, "The 13th Step," by my favorite author Moira Rogers (pen-name for two self-confessed "Southern girls," whom I featured here some months ago). Two aspects: (1) I don't love romance novels -- but THEIRS are almost porn, and (2) while I don't mind hot hetero love scenes, I love taking the male participant OUT and replacing him with another girlie. So here is my modified text for your delectation.
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The minute Ella made the mistake of meeting her gaze, Justine smiled. Even, white teeth flashed at her. They barely deserved to be called fangs, though their daintiness didn't make Ella any less capable of sinking them into a vulnerable woman.
A shudder wracked Justine as she remembered how good it felt to have those teeth on her skin. In, she corrected silently. In her skin. Too damn good, and exactly why Justine'd left her.
She watched as the vampire walked off the floor, disappearing into the crowd. She knew she should turn around. Leave. She should get the hell out of this club, out of Vegas--hell, out of the damn state of Nevada.
Instead she followed her, a woman possessed. Obsessed. It should have been hard to track one scent in the jumble of bodies on the dance floor, but it wasn't just any scent. It was her. It was Ella.
[continued in first comment, below]
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The minute Ella made the mistake of meeting her gaze, Justine smiled. Even, white teeth flashed at her. They barely deserved to be called fangs, though their daintiness didn't make Ella any less capable of sinking them into a vulnerable woman.
A shudder wracked Justine as she remembered how good it felt to have those teeth on her skin. In, she corrected silently. In her skin. Too damn good, and exactly why Justine'd left her.
She watched as the vampire walked off the floor, disappearing into the crowd. She knew she should turn around. Leave. She should get the hell out of this club, out of Vegas--hell, out of the damn state of Nevada.
Instead she followed her, a woman possessed. Obsessed. It should have been hard to track one scent in the jumble of bodies on the dance floor, but it wasn't just any scent. It was her. It was Ella.
[continued in first comment, below]