Isuzu: A Lesbian Erotica

Where the Road Ends, Passion Begins

Chapter 1 • Lux

The whites of her eyes felt raw and acidic. Hard as she tried to blink the tired away, it burned like a fresh clove of garlic on an empty stomach. If she fought to keep them open for another mile she’d be a danger on the road. Fifteen years ago maybe she’d just chug her fourth Red Bull and run for another couple hours, but she wasn’t twenty-two anymore and even back then it was reckless. No, more than trying to shorten the thousand miles between her and her drop off spot, Lux was looking for a place to stop. Get some coffee, maybe some food. Feel more human than truck.

It was nights like this she wondered where she’d gone wrong. Where was the wife? The dog chasing the cat? The stability? When did she start driving and never look back? What would it take to — her familiar rant is interrupted by a strange hot pink neon sign in the distance. As she gets closer it gets clearer, THE CRASH TEST KITTY with a line under it buzzing, “Your Last Lesbian Bar for 869 Miles!” in a flirty script with neon kissy lips sitting at the end of what felt like a warning.

A nightcap. A song. A conversation. She reasons with herself as she steps on the gas.

The parking lot is full. Double parked full. Lux had to pull her heavy-duty Isuzu onto the side road that led into nowhere wilderness. There’s got to be at least forty cars packed Tetris level tight. And to think there are men who say women can’t drive. They’ve just never willingly wanted to go anywhere with you scumbag, she thinks to herself, laughing into the night at how she’s always ready to sling some hate at the imaginary man in her head. He deserves it.

She passes women smoking outside the entrance, nodding at the stone butches she makes eye contact with along way. Entering The Crash Test Kitty was like popping the hood of someone’s midlife crisis. Endless chrome. Cold silver. Red lights reflecting off disco balls. Pictures of pin ups and what looks like a lesbian archive frantically taped to the wall. Evidence. Saying, “Look at us. Existing. We’ve been here all this time. We’ve wanted this forever.”

Lux makes her way to the bar, gently pushing past dozens of women, some half her size, completely unaware of the world of eye contact that exists with those her same height. Some girls sing and sway and hold onto each other for dear life as another infamous bridge blares over the speakers. “Wait for it! This is the part! Wait for it!” Someone manages to yell right in her ear as Lux sidesteps her way to a clear seat. “Finally in park,” Lux sighs in relief to the salt and pepper shakers. She gets corny when she’s tired but at least she can begin the journey of rest she promised herself when she pulled into the parking lot 20 minutes ago.

“What can I get you to drink, handsome?” Lux looked up from the table to a Black woman with a smile the size of Texas and long eyelashes that adorned her round brown eyes like a halo. She couldn’t have been 21 for more than 21 minutes but Lux stopped guessing ages for anyone under 30 because to her everyone looked so young, so green, so full of life and potential, so unlike her own face, a face she rarely even looked at anymore outside her rearview.

“Can I smoke in here? And I’ll have an Uncle Nearest neat, please.”

“Sure hon, here’s an ashtray for ya.” She jumps on her cowboy boot heels and pushes herself to the tall bottle of whiskey before grabbing a short glass and plopping it on the counter, pouring it from so high that the liquid filled the space between them.

This woman can’t stop smiling. What’s that like? Lux thinks, entertaining her inner pessimist as a treat for driving just over 1,000 miles so far. “Here cutie,” the bartender picks up the drink, her rainbow acrylic tap dancing on the glass, grinning as she announces, “I’m Destiny…where are you heading to?”

“Thanks…I’m driving in from Maryland with an original pick up from Jersey, on my way to California.” Just then Destiny twisted her eyebrows, eyelashes and those gorgeous espresso eyes real sad at the word California. “Oh my God that’s sooo far, I’m sooo sorry hon.”

“Don’t go throwing her a funeral Destiny, maybe–” A tall, curvy Black woman with lipgloss that damn near blinded Lux upon first glance was sitting just a chair away. “What’s your name?” Maybe it was the drink but Lux warmed up about nine degrees before realizing Destiny and this new woman, somehow even more beautiful, were staring at her waiting for an answer. “...Lux,” she locked eyes with the mysterious woman with dark hair and a tattoo on her sternum Lux couldn’t quite make out without staring at her breasts. This woman faced the bartender, continuing, “Maybe Lux here is celebrating. Are you celebrating tonight, Lux?”

“No.” Lux admitted begrudgingly. Great. Now she was annoyed. Reminded of her failures spanning decades, missing some mark this stranger made up. What happened to going into a bar to drown your sorrows from the corner stool? Alone? In silence? What lesbian public shaming was this? Who celebrates shit anymore if it’s not a birthday? And who even celebrates a birthday when no one is around to celebrate with?

The simmering pot of regret and disappointment she was, Lux hadn’t even noticed this woman had switched seats to the stool closest to her until she was fully gripping Lux’s chin in her soft hand, gently as if her face were an injured bird you couldn’t startle any more than you already have. Her fingers, paired with long baby blue nails, caressed Lux’s bottom lip as she turned her chin to face her with just enough force to absolutely melt the coldest cynic’s exterior. “Well, maybe you and I can find something to celebrate. I’m sure we can think of something between the two of us.” She winked and released Lux from a new cage built just for her, with shiny baby blue bars and walls the color of this woman’s deep brown skin. A cell that smells like pear and coconut long after she’s gone. 48 square feet Lux could live in forever.

What was happening? Why was this happening? How could this be happening? This didn’t happen to people like Lux. Who lived like her or got paid the shit wage she did. But it was.

“You don’t have to say too much if you don’t want to. I know how your type can be,” She offered a smirk, revealing she knew exactly what she was doing before saying, “And anyways…your tattoos tell me everything I need to know.”

All of a sudden, Lux remembered she was covered in tattoos. From the butterfly on her throat to calaveras, calligraphy, her childhood doberman, and a portrait of Yemaya running up and down her arms like Interstate 80. How could she forget?! And what could they possibly be telling this woman who hasn’t even offered her own name yet?

“Destiny, I’m going to show Lux around. Get her another drink for the road.”

“On it boss!” The young bartender perkily poured a double shot of Lux’s favorite whiskey and handed it to her with that same billboard smile. “Boss?” Lux repeated, confused as she took the glass and turned to follow the woman who was apparently giving her a tour.

“Boss to her. But to you, it’s Lisha.”