~ All the Way to Heaven: Or Lesbian Parlor Games ~
by S. Berry
Ownership disclaimer: I don't own who they look like, but I own them. If you ask real nice, I might let you play with them, though.

Love/Sex: Women in love. Innuendo ahead. But only kissing actually shown.

Language: Now, do you *really* need to ask? Cursing ahead. I tried to stop 'em, but they wouldn't listen. *Kids*.

Thanks: I'd like to thank all the members of my yahoo list (www.groups.yahoo.com/group/SBerrysStories) if you want to stroke my ego and join), the Mindom, and the Bard's Village who pointed out my errors. I'd like to thank one guy in particular who went through the whole thing with a fine tooth comb and pointed out all the little things I'd missed, plus a couple of big things.

Author's note: This is actually the second uber I ever wrote. I finished it and a sequel two years ago, but my disk failed and I had to start all over again. So, my PSA of the day is friends don't let friends not do backups. Also, I should warn you -- cigars shouldn't be inhaled unless you have a high pain threshold and/or enjoy having the lining from your throat and sinuses stripped away. Most cigars are rather harsh.

Feedback: You can still reach me at the addy on my other stories, but to get a faster response, try sberrythebard@yahoo.com. Feedback makes me feel like writing, so if you like what you read, let me know. It makes my day. Okay, now that I've confirmed I'm completely pathetic, on with the story.

Copyright © 2004 by S. Berry. All Rights Reserved.

I was twenty-one when I went to my first lesbian party. I didn't know it was a gay party at first, though. Nikki James, an acquaintance from one of my classes, invited me. I barely knew her, and it never occurred to me that she might be gay. We went to a small religious college in a medium sized conservative town -- in Kansas, no less. Until that week, I was the only lesbian I knew. It was also the year I discovered Melissa Etheridge's hometown was less than fifty miles away. It was a revelation.

Nikki had cornered me after class to ask if I wanted to go -- it was her birthday and she wanted to recapture her youth with a slumber party. Having never been to one, I was intrigued. The clincher for me was that I knew she'd invited Tiffany Robinson before class. Tiffany is easily the most mind-bogglingly beautiful person I have ever had the pleasure of seeing. She's very tall, with long, luscious raven locks, and eyes that rival Crayola in shades of blue. If you haven't figured out I had a monstrous crush on her, don't feel bad. She hadn't either. I doubt she even knew I was alive, but I welcomed any time I had to stare at her longingly. Hey, a girl's gotta have a hobby.

Nikki handed me directions to her house and asked if I could find it. I assured her I could. Jeez, get lost once and nobody thinks you can find your own ass with both hands and an anatomy book. I once made the mistake of telling her that I had managed to misplace a classroom I'd had classes in for four semesters earlier in the year and she had never let me forget it. I still maintain somebody moved all the rooms in the building around. But that's another story (and a dangling modifier, but who's counting?).


As it turned out, my mother needed the car, so she drove me to Nikki's. I don't know who was more nervous -- me or mom. She knew I was gay and was very supportive, but I haven't spent too many nights away from home. Tiffany roared up on her motorcycle as we were pulling up.

"That's her!" I exclaimed. Mom didn't have to ask whom. Okay, so I'd mentioned Tiffany once or twice... a minute.

"If you hurry, I'll bet you can get to the door at the same time," she suggested.

I hurried.

Mom's plan worked better than either of us could have dreamed. I did indeed draw even with Tiffany just as she was picking up a brown paper grocery bag in one hand and her helmet in the other. Unfortunately, I was too busy checking her out to pay attention to what I was doing, and I tripped over my sleeping bag.

Actually, it's my brother's and big enough to comfortably hold all of Charlemagne's illegitimate children (as my favorite author, Will Cuppy, puts it, "Anyone who admits to having ten illegitimate children probably has more.").

A warm hand touched my shoulder. "Are you okay?" A deep female voice asked.

I rolled over. Yep, it was her. "Yeah, except for my dignity. I think I bruised that."

She chuckled and offered me a hand up. I didn't really need help, but I wasn't missing an opportunity

to hold her hand. She easily lifted me up. Hmm. I love the way her muscles flex. I stumbled a bit and she wrapped a strong arm around my waist.

"You sure you're okay?" She asked again, her flame blue eyes narrowed in concern.

I blushed. "Now I'm just mortified."

She grinned. "Mortified is wiping out on your bike in front of the entire cheerleading squad while you're attempting to impress the head cheerleader you've been trying to convince to go out with you for the past two years."

I winced. "Ouch. But I think wandering around all day not realizing some joker decided sticking Kotex on your back would be the perfect accessory to complete your ensemble is worse."

It was her turn to wince. "Yeah, I'd say that was worse, all right. Nobody said anything?"


She shouldered my duffle (even larger than the sleeping bag) and sleeping bag and handed me her helmet. "Would you carry this for me? I'm out of hands."

"Sure, but you don't have to carry my stuff."

She shrugged and grinned. "Can't have you trip again. Besides, I have to meet my 'rescuing damsels in distress' quota for today. You're my last hope."

I had to laugh. "Okay. Thanks."

She stopped short after a few steps. "I guess I should warn you. The girls are going to think we're dating. I've never let anyone hold my helmet before."

"Ooh, does this mean we're going steady?" I teased, surprising myself. I was surprised enough I

was managing to talk at all, let alone tell her the Kotex story. I hadn't even told Mom about that one.

She looked flustered. I was about to say something to let her off the hook, but she stammered, "Um, so you don't mind being my date tonight? I really don't feel like being hit on." She looked so hopeful, I couldn't have said no if even I had been insane enough to want to.

So, not being insane, I quickly agreed, figuring if I was a good fake date, she might ask me out on a real one. Regardless, it might be my only chance to spend time with her. What I actually said was, "Sure. I don't think I really know anyone here, and I was dreading being by myself." Well, it was slightly less pathetic.

"I'll be sure to introduce you around, but I doubt that'll be necessary. I know if I hadn't run into you out here, I would've fought to be the first to introduce myself. Which reminds me, I haven't. Tiffany Robinson," she said, shyly offering me her hand.

I was shocked. *She* would've fought to meet *me*?! It was sorta like having God ask you to ghostwrite His next book. "KC Casey," I replied, taking her hand. "And I would've been hoping you'd introduce yourself, even though I already knew who you were," I continued, hoping that wasn't too forward.

Judging by her ear to ear grin, it wasn't. "I've been wanting to ask you out all year, but every time I got up the nerve, something went wrong. Nikki and I had a whole elaborate scheme worked out for tonight to get us alone so I could ask you out without witnesses in case you turned me down," she admitted with a cute little embarrassed grin.

I stared at her in amazement. I had to be dreaming. Girls like her aren't desperate to date girls like me,

and they *certainly* aren't afraid you'll say no. "Well, I've been hoping you'd ask me out all year, so anytime you feel the need, feel free."

It was her turn to look amazed. "*Really* ?! You wanna go out with me?!"

"Well, sure. Why shouldn't I?" I asked honestly.

"Well, you're beautiful, smart, funny; everybody who likes girls wants you," she replied like it was obvious.

"Huh, no kidding. That's why I'm surprised you want to go out with me."

"Oh," she replied, blushing furiously.

I don't know what other revelations may have come forth if Nikki hadn't stepped out on the porch, apparently looking for us. At least she shouted, "There you are! Get your butts in here; everybody's waiting!"

Tiffany and I both blushed, though I don't know why. All we were doing was talking. It's not like she could have heard us or anything. Tiffany tentatively took my hand as we walked up to the door. Nikki grinned mischievously and stuck her head in the door to yell inside, "I found them! *Holding hands!*" She added in a singsong.

Tiffany made to let go of my hand, but I wouldn't let her. We smiled shyly at each other. Nikki was still grinning. When we got to the door, she said, "Hi, KC. I see you met TJ."

"Hi, thanks for inviting us." I decided to let Tiffany explain or not explain how we met.

Picking up her cue, Tiffany grinned, "You know how chivalrous I am -- I had to rescue her from the vultures."

"But who's gonna rescue her from you?" Nikki grinned.

"Who says I want to be rescued?" I retorted, then blushed.

Nikki giggled, then grinned at me playfully. "Let me know if you get tired of this one. I've always wanted a mistress."

Going with it, I let go of Tiffany's hand and shrugged apologetically. "I've always wanted to be a mistress." The look on Nikki's face was priceless.

Tiffany shot back; "I look better in a collar."

It took me a second to realize what she meant, but I pretended to think about it. "How are you at

kneeling? I don't want to have to stand on a chair to put one on," I asked seriously.

Nikki started giggling, then all three of us were laughing hysterically. Nikki threw her arm across my shoulders and ushered me in, still chuckling. Tiffany removed her arm, possessively replacing it with hers, playfully growling, "Mine. You have your own." It was strangely pleasant feeling.

Nikki led us into her basement. From what I could see, it was a nice place. There was one big room with a few doors leading to a bathroom, the bedroom, the outside, and the one we had entered through. The main room contained three couches, several armchairs, and 9 girls, all arranged around a big screen TV. Not all of the girls are important to this story, so I won't bother with their names.

"Hey, girls, this is our latest victim, Kathryn "KC" Casey, or TJ's girl for those of you with memory problems -- or death wishes," Nikki paused for laughter. Tiffany tightened her arm, marking her territory, I guess, not that I minded.

Nikki introduced me to all the girls, then we sat down around some card tables pushed together to play two deck poker. We drank beer and smoked cigars, after Nikki made sure I didn't have any trouble with cigar smoke. I'm not really a smoker, but I have a weakness for a good cigar. And these were good cigars.

I was feeling pretty good, so I showed off by blowing smoke rings out of my nose. First, I pinched one nostril closed, then the other. Then, both at once. I don't know how I do it; I just do.

"How do you *do* that, KC? That is *so* cool!" Nikki exclaimed.

I just shrugged. "I don't know."

Tiffany bent her head and whispered, "I hope you show me some of the tricks you can do with your mouth." I choked on my next puff feeling myself blushing furiously. She chuckled.

I whispered back, "The next time you whisper something dirty, could you wait until I don't have anything in my mouth but you?" Tiffany sprayed her beer across the table and started choking. I rubbed her back in apology. Her back was warm and muscular. It was quite pleasant. The girls were staring, obviously wondering what the hell we were talking about.

Nikki finally blurted, "Jesus, KC, what did you do to the poor girl?!"

I grinned and shrugged. "The same thing she did to me, only better."

The girls broke into startled laughter, while Tiffany shrugged helplessly, as if to say, "What can I say?

It's true!" I leaned my head against her shoulder in silent apology, which she accepted by tightening her arm around me.

After some more giggling and some apologetic cuddling, Nikki explained that there were no special rules and passed out cards and poker chips. I puffed contentedly on the tail end of my cigar, careful to keep the flame away from my living headrest.

The game was fun, but over too soon. We cleared the table and settled in the living area around the TV with more beer and some of us (including Tiffany and I) continued smoking. I made a mental note to ask

Nikki where she got the cigars. They were the best I've ever had. Tiffany indicated I should sit on her lap in one of recliners. I was a little embarrassed at first, but she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her strong frame possessively. It was amazingly comfortable, both physically and emotionally. I liked how readily she claimed me as her own in front of her friends.

As soon as everyone was settled, Nikki announced from her position on Paula's (her partner of 6 years) lap, "Okay, our next game is Truth or Dare. Do you know how to play, KC?"

"Um, I've read about it, but have never played. Don't you just pick one and do it?" I answered, a little embarrassed to admit my lack of knowledge.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it. We pick one person and take turns clockwise from her. We try not to pick the same people every turn. We don't allow anything physically or emotionally damaging. Embarrassing is good, of course -- that's where the fun comes from. Just let us know if we hit on a sore spot or something you're scared of, and we won't bring it up again. We'll do the same, okay?"

I nodded, relieved.

"Great. It's Salem's turn to start." Salem Jones, I forgot to mention, is Tiffany's cousin. They're like sisters.

Salem asked a blonde cheerleader from my biology class (her name really *is* Bambi, believe it or not) who, if anyone, she had a crush on. The poor girl turned whiter than the KKK, and protested on grounds the answer could be physically damaging. Nobody believed her and forced her to answer. I'll be damned if she didn't say it was me! All eyes immediately focused on Tiffany.

Tiffany laughed. "Okay, why don't we just get it over with? Raise your hand if you have a crush on my girl." Every hand in the room rose, even Nikki's and Paula's!

"Told you so, baby," she said causally. "So how many of you are suicidal enough to try to steal her from me?" Not a hand went up. She shook her head. "Then why are y'all so panicked? Jeez, I'm not *that* bad!"

Well, hell, what do you say to something like that? I grinned a bit weakly, "I get the feeling my tuition's gonna double on Monday -- my ego's going to be big enough to count as a separate person." Fortunately, that broke the tension. The game went on.

Finally, it happened -- Paula, a mischievous gleam in her eye -- asked me how Tiffany rated as a lover. I wasn't sure if I should admit I had no idea or what. So I settled on the basic truth. "Well, I don't have anything to compare her too, but I have no complaints." I don't know if Tiffany blushed, but I sure did and she gave me a little squeeze.


Nikki announced the next game -- Seven Minutes in Heaven. If you've never played -- and of course I hadn't -- the rules are simple: everyone's name was written on slips of paper and placed in a bowl or hat or whatever container is handiest. Then everyone takes turns drawing a slip. The person whose name is on the slip has to go into another room with the drawer for seven minutes to do whatever they want.

Tiffany drew my name. There was some good-natured grumbling about it being fixed, but soon I found myself in Nikki and Paula's bedroom. Alone with Tiffany Robinson, the woman of my dreams. Who was scuffling her toe on the carpet with her hands jammed so deep in her jeans pockets her fingertips were brushing carpet fuzz off of her boots. That made me feel a little better. At least I wasn't the only nervous one. We just stood there for what seemed like years, but was probably only a minute.

She cleared her throat nervously, and finally broke the silence, blushing. "Um, I've been thinking. Maybe we oughtta kiss or something. I mean, if you want to. We don't hafta or anything. I'd understand if you didn't wanna, I mean, you don't really know me, so why wouldja wanna kiss me? Never mind, it was a stupid idea..." she trailed off, obviously mortified. It was so adorable.

"It sounds like a good idea to me," I said shyly, not looking at her.

"Really?" She sounded surprised.

"Yeah," I risked a peek at her face. She was beaming. Then she was right there and I was in her arms and

she was bending down -- and hit her nose on my forehead. I'd never seen that shade of red before. She just grabbed her bleeding nose and stepped away. I got some Kleenex from a box on the night table and guided her to the bed. I gently pried her hand away and pressed the wad of tissues to her wound and put her hand over it, then tilted her head back. "I guess my mom is right -- I do have a hard head."

"I'm sorry. Guess I misjudged the distance," she apologized with a nasal giggle.

"Don't worry about it -- now I'll definitely remember my first kiss."

"But I didn't kiss you," she pointed out.

I shrugged. "Semantics."

She giggled, then winced. "It's mine, too."

"Your what?" I asked. (Okay, I'm blonde. Sue me.)

"First kiss," she said mumbled, blushing.

"Really?" Completely surprised.

"Yeah. I'm not the player that everyone makes me out to be. I've dated a few girls, yes, but I never liked any of 'em enough to kiss." Her eyes were earnest and honest above the bloody Kleenex.

"I've never dated. I'm not very good at social stuff," I admitted awkwardly.

"I'm not always that great at it myself. Just fake it well," she shrugged.

I didn't believe it at first, then remembered how shy she'd been with me. It still didn't make sense. But then nothing about this evening was making sense. If my head wasn't hurting, I'd think I was dreaming. I never feel sharp pain in my dreams.

Before I had time to say anything else, Nikki was knocking the two-minute warning.

Tiffany and I looked at each other and then she cautiously removed the Kleenex from her nose. No new blood gushed out, so she threw the used tissues in a wastebasket under the nightstand. "Um, wanna try that kiss again?" She looked so shyly hopeful I couldn't have said no had I wanted to. Not that I did.

I nodded. She patted her lap with a shy smile. I straddled her legs awkwardly, not being familiar with the position (not that I was that familiar with any position). She wrapped her arms tentatively around my waist to steady me and for the lack of anyplace better to put them, I slipped mine around her neck because that's how they did it on TV. She lowered her head and...

Blood spurted right in my eye. No, not really, but that's what I was expecting. Actually, her lips touched mine very hesitantly and briefly. I can't say I saw fireworks and knew I'd love her forever. I didn't. It was just a simple shy first kiss. Just like billions of others that happen every day all over the world. The only thing that made it special was that this one happened to Tiffany Robinson and me.

And then she was pulling away and anxiously looking at me, hoping to see approval or some sign that I'd be receptive to another kiss. Whatever it was, she must have found it because she leaned forward and gave me another just like it. Smiling shyly, she pulled back again. "Was that okay?"

"It was nice," I managed, just as shyly. "Nice" wasn't quite the word I was reaching for, but I wasn't exactly sure what was. It wasn't like I'd read the 'How to Describe Your First Kiss' manual.

"I thought it was nice, too. Real nice," she said.

"Yeah," I nodded, at a total loss as to what to say.

Nikki knocked time's up just as Tiffany was leaning forward to kiss me again. Tiffany jumped, then scowled. "Time *would* be up just as I finally get to kiss you."

Before I could point out that she'd kissed me twice already; Nikki had opened the door and ordered us out. I was kinda embarrassed to be caught sitting on Tiffany's lap like that. Nikki's eyes widened and she mouthed an apology before she went back to supervise the next drawing. Blushing, I reluctantly slipped off Tiffany's lap which had begun to feel really nice.

I slipped my hand into hers as we walked out to find a roomful of girls intensely interested in the weather patterns of Brazil. Eavesdroppers, gotta love 'em.


I was surprised how quickly the evening passed. Seven Minutes in Heaven flowed into Pin the Dildo on the Butch. By this point, most of us were pretty tipsy. I wasn't quite wasted, but I was feeling pretty damn good. That's my only excuse for what happened next. Nikki, the only one not drinking, blindfolded me and spun me around a few times. She said I headed straight to Tiffany only weaving slightly and tried to pin her fly, much to the amusement of everyone but us. I vaguely remember being mad that the wall kept moving and grabbing at my hands. Nikki told me later that poor Tiffany was blushing and looked flustered as hell. I'm afraid that no one has let me live that one down, not even Tiffany.

Mostly I just remember lots of laughing and fun and an incredible feeling of safety. Tiffany kept an armaround me or sat me on her lap all night, and the other girls were nice to me too. For the first time in my life, I felt like I fit in outside my own house.


I woke up before dawn lying on top of Tiffany, wrapped tightly in her arms. Who knew a sleeping bag on a hardwood floor could be so comfortable? She was awake, looking at me with a soft expression that I'd never seen before. "Morning, Kathryn," she whispered.

"Morning," I whispered back, feeling all funny and nervous inside, for some strange reason. She was so beautiful in the moonlight shining through the window above our heads.

"Would you like to go to a movie or something tonight? If you're not busy, I mean," she added quickly, stuttering a bit in her nervousness.

I was almost too surprised to answer, but I managed to nod and say I'd love to.

She beamed, obviously half expecting to be turned down. "Great! Now, why don't we go back to sleep? I just wanted to ask before I lost my nerve," she admitted, blushing.

"Okay," I whispered back, leaning down to kiss her. Her lips were as soft as I remembered them. Then I buried my face in her chest. She rubbed my back gently as I drifted back to sleep, safe in the very real arms of the woman of my dreams.

The End

Feedback is greatly appreciated: sberry@e-scribblers.com.
Join my Yahoo group: groups.yahoo.com/group/SBerrysstories.
Check out my web site: www.e-scribblers.com/keeper/.

Read the Sequel - Resist: Or Why Making Out in Movies Is So Popular

S. Berry's Scrolls
Main Page