Femme Friday – Literary Femmes: Yvonne from D. Alexandria’s short story, “When She’s Mad”

D. Alexandria is the deviant storyteller…

the revolutionary someone should have warned you about…the woman whose words will conjure images that make you shake your head and squeeze your thighs together…

Jamaican descendant, D. Alexandria, is the author of the Lambda Literary Award finalist “This Is How We Do It: A Raw Mix of Lesbian Erotica” (2010). A Gemini-born native of Cambridge, Massachusetts, her work first appeared on Kuma2.net, a nationally recognized site for lesbian erotica featuring women of color. Her stories have also been published in Tristan Taormino’s “Best Lesbian Erotica” series from 2005-2009 and “Sometimes She Lets Me: Best Butch Femme Erotica”, Nicole Foster’s “Ultimate Lesbian Erotica 2006” and Laura Antoniou’s “No Safewords: A Marketplace Fan Anthology”.

from http://www.dalexandria.com/home.html

“Always Unapologetic” is how D. Alexandria signed my copy of This is How We Do It: A Raw Mix of Lesbian Erotica, but the butch in the story “When She’s Mad” has got a lot of apologizing to do for having openly flirted with another femme when out dancing with her femme, Yvonne.

Deep gratitude to D. Alexandria for the gift of strong, sexy Yvonne – do not fuck with her!

            Yvonne turned in her seat but I kept my eyes on the road, not needing to look at her to know she was scowling.

            “You’re gonna tell me you weren’t watching that skank-ass blonde bitch while we were dancing? I caught your ass when I turned around.”

            “What blond bitch?” I asked, inwardly kicking myself because I knew exactly what blonde bitch she was talking about. While Yvonne was in my arms, behind her another couple was dancing just as heatedly as we were. The stud’s back was to me, but her girlfriend clearly had me in her sights, eyeing me up and down appreciatively. She had blondish dreads that fell around her shoulders, at times masking her face and hiding the motions she was making towards me with her lips and what apparently was a very skillful tongue. I hadn’t realized I had been so obvious in noticing. Normally I’m much better than that, ‘cause I knew that as confident Yvonne was in her status as my girl, no woman wanted to catch her stud checking out another chick. It was my fuck up.

            “You know exactly what blonde bitch I’m talking about, Lee, don’t play dumb. I’m surprised her ass wasn’t on some pole. Sure ‘nuff know yours would be there, dollar ready.” She added.

            I sighed, “Baby—,”

            “Don’t ‘baby’ me. I would never disrespect you like that and you know it. You’d be ready to get in a fight if you caught me doing what you did with another stud.”

            And, of course, she was right. We both knew I was hot-headed and more than a few times I’ve had words with other studs who weren’t respecting my place. And a couple of incidents came to blows. “But Yvonne–,”

            “But what?” She interrupted.


            “What? What do you have to say?”

            “But I’m sayin’–,”


            “Yo, let me talk!” I snapped, taking my eyes off the road for a moment to glare at her. “How you gonna come at me like that and not give me time to say anything?”

            She sucked her teeth, crossing her arms and stared ahead, “Talk.”

            I rolled my eyes and tried to relax, my mind racing for words that could soothe the situation, because truth be told, I was getting aroused. Call me insensitive if you want, but whenever Yvonne got heated I got excited. I can’t explain it, but when she gets angry there’s this energy that surrounds her and all I want to do is bend her over and tap into it the best way I know how. This, of course, is hard to do when we’re in the middle of an argument and the last thing she probably wants to do is look at me, let alone be intimate. But with every passing minute as her voice gets louder, her words become rawer, and her eyes are blazing the most intense heat, all I can think about is subduing her with the lash of my tongue.

            And right at this moment, as the animosity in the air grew thick, I was thinking of how good it would feel to have her thighs around my head as I pressed my face into her.

            “I thought you had to talk.” She said suddenly, jarring me back to reality.

            “Listen,” I began, trying to keep focus. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even really paying attention to what I was doing. But for real, it was nothing. You know she don’t got shit on you. You ain’t got nothing to worry about, boo.”

            As soon as the words left my lips, I knew I had made a mistake. What a fucking rookie move. Never ever assume your woman felt insecure, because even if she didn’t, the fact that you mentioned it will make her think there’s a reason she should be. Worse it just makes your ass look conceited as all hell. If I could, I would have physically kicked myself.

            “Let me out,” She said.

–D. Alexandria, “When She’s Mad” in This is How We Do It: A Raw Mix of Lesbian Erotica


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

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