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The 3rd Theme
Her fingers found the edge of his jacket. She tugged at one button, trying to pull him down beside her.
"Is that all you care about!" His icy words cut their way down to her.
Giddy bubbles of futility floated in her head. The sleeping pills, the despair, combined in a soft, careless laugh. Slowly she stood up, rubbing herself along him as she moved. Her hands searched inside his jacket, caressing the muscles of his chest.
"Don't be an old sauerkraut," she heard her own lips say. She flattened her bust against the muscles of his ribs. Then in a single movement she opened her housecoat, enfolding him within its yards of flowered material. What difference could it make that she despised herself?
"You bitch."
Roughly his arms slid around her waist. She heard the flimsy material tear and felt it slither away. If only her body could be destroyed that easily, with so little pain.
It wasn't Jay who ruined her life. No, Jay had nothing to do with it, except as the unwitting accomplice. She had ruined her own life. And all by herself. Ruined it with desire. Consumed her chance for happiness in the flames of her craving.
Sharon grasped Leda's waist and drew the woman's body in close to her own. Her lips grazed along the soft neck and up behind Leda's ear.
"I want this one moment in time," Sharon whispered, "before the world falls in on us." But she did not try to force Leda's response. Instead she poised her fingertips lightly on Leda's back, waiting for the first hint of accession.
"Will you?" Sharon said.
Without answering, Leda moved out of the circle of her arms and went to snap off the lamp.
"Is that all you care about!" His icy words cut their way down to her.
Giddy bubbles of futility floated in her head. The sleeping pills, the despair, combined in a soft, careless laugh. Slowly she stood up, rubbing herself along him as she moved. Her hands searched inside his jacket, caressing the muscles of his chest.
"Don't be an old sauerkraut," she heard her own lips say. She flattened her bust against the muscles of his ribs. Then in a single movement she opened her housecoat, enfolding him within its yards of flowered material. What difference could it make that she despised herself?
"You bitch."
Roughly his arms slid around her waist. She heard the flimsy material tear and felt it slither away. If only her body could be destroyed that easily, with so little pain.
It wasn't Jay who ruined her life. No, Jay had nothing to do with it, except as the unwitting accomplice. She had ruined her own life. And all by herself. Ruined it with desire. Consumed her chance for happiness in the flames of her craving.
Sharon grasped Leda's waist and drew the woman's body in close to her own. Her lips grazed along the soft neck and up behind Leda's ear.
"I want this one moment in time," Sharon whispered, "before the world falls in on us." But she did not try to force Leda's response. Instead she poised her fingertips lightly on Leda's back, waiting for the first hint of accession.
"Will you?" Sharon said.
Without answering, Leda moved out of the circle of her arms and went to snap off the lamp.
Paperback
First published May 1, 1961
4 people want to read
About the author
March Hastings
80 books13 followersWriting in New York City in the 1950s and 60s, March Hastings, a pseudonym of Sally Singer, was one of the most prolific authors of the lesbian pulp era. She now lives in Florida.
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
January 1, 2021
Yes. I am obsessing over March Hastings and her old timey lesbian exploitation novels. Well, to call this book lesbian is a bit misleading, as our heroine, Sharon, sleeps with all genders.
Oddly plotted, this book describes Sharon fleeing one relationship, another relationship, another relationship... You get the idea. And by relationship I mostly mean she has sex with someone. The plot meanders all over the place, giving the impression the author pounded this book out over a weekend, occasionally thinking, "Oh yeah, plot and characters. Better include that."
And yet, again, it's a readable soap opera with amusingly described sex scenes.
"Sharon felt the plunge and thrust of his need. Her arms lashed out wildly, then folded round him, muttering his name over and over like a dirty word in which she had taken final, forbidden freedom."
That kind of thing. Why do I love it so much? I just do. Cheese, and much of it. Yet somehow simultaneously plucking at the heart strings and making me care.
Not the best March Hastings book I've read, but still fun.
Oddly plotted, this book describes Sharon fleeing one relationship, another relationship, another relationship... You get the idea. And by relationship I mostly mean she has sex with someone. The plot meanders all over the place, giving the impression the author pounded this book out over a weekend, occasionally thinking, "Oh yeah, plot and characters. Better include that."
And yet, again, it's a readable soap opera with amusingly described sex scenes.
"Sharon felt the plunge and thrust of his need. Her arms lashed out wildly, then folded round him, muttering his name over and over like a dirty word in which she had taken final, forbidden freedom."
That kind of thing. Why do I love it so much? I just do. Cheese, and much of it. Yet somehow simultaneously plucking at the heart strings and making me care.
Not the best March Hastings book I've read, but still fun.
Displaying 1 of 1 review