Femme Friday — Miel Rose

Femme Friday   Miel Rose

Miel Rose has this to say about herself: I am a rural, working class femme who was raised by hippies in the wilds of Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom. I am crafty in multiple senses of the word, being both a witch and a lady who loves to work with her hands creatively. I am a textile artist, magic skills teacher, and healer currently living in Northampton, MA.

I have this to say about Miel: she is luscious, delicious, yummy, fabulous, beautiful, talented, creative, wise and sweet and that’s just the beginning! We met some years back during a reading tour for the anthology Femmethology, and have been fast femme friends ever since. Look for her at the winter farmer’s market in Northampton, teaching all kinds of interesting classes and of course, writing. Check out her collection of profound and loving stories, Overflow: Tales of Butch-Femme Love, Sex, and Desire, and find her in many anthologies, like Best Lesbian Erotica 2015.

Deep gratitude to Miel Rose!

There’s this woman I work with. She moves around with more confidence and self-possession than anyone I’ve ever seen. Sometimes I think it’s because she’s in her late forties, older than most of the people I hang out with. But who knows? Maybe she’s always been that way.

            She works in the bulk department at the grocery store I cashier for. I love to find excuses to sneak into the back and watch her, the muscles in her arms tense, as she hefts the 50 lb bags of dry goods around. She has this old school butch feel, and in this town, old school butches might as well be unicorns.

            After she got hired, my work clothes got a lot more interesting. My skirts got shorter, my jeans tighter, and this is really saying something. Plunging became the best adjective to describe my necklines. I started wearing more make-up to work, but drew the line at heels after spending most of a shift barefoot when I decided it was more comfortable than standing eight hours in front of a cash register in stilettos.

            I would watch her move around the store, her short graying hair tousled and messy, like she’d just rolled out from between some girl’s thighs. She drove me crazy. My mind would start running in circles. Did she date femmes? Would she even recognize me as a femme? Or would she think I was some young, freaky straight girl trying to fuck with her? She looked like the exact kind of trouble I liked, but outside packaging can be deceiving. What if she wasn’t a top? Lord knows she inspired bottom space in me.

            I turned on my best flirt.

from “Undone” in Overflow: Tales of Butch-Femme Love, Sex, and Desire by Miel Rose

Every Friday, I will showcase a queer femme goddess. Suggestions welcome!

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