As students poured into Les Spirites, to occupy hotel rooms, a LGBT or self-proclaimed lezian took it upon herself to educate her peer, one night in bed. Mandy was her name.
She spoke of the “White Room”. Spotless, clean, sterile.
Up in the towers of Les Spirites Skyscapers, where leaders and upstarts in the business world worked, a group of lezians worked. Sometimes convertly. They worked.
They wore the white rings. Their peers in the underworld wore black, or green, or something dark and red.
White was a simple of their purity and strength: disavowing notions that success, in both life and business precluded them, they worked assiduously. Set aside a room, called it the “White Room”, the symbol of their resolve. It had a desk, a cabinet of her resolutions.
More importantly, they never made love in the White Room. Kept it spotless, more important, the key to their rank and success. Their power rested on it: trivial to everyone, but to a white-room lezian, it was her power. Once ruined, she lost her work, her membership.
The casual lovers. But second to business. They worked and worked hard. Sometimes even helped and funded chances and opportunities for their lezian peers. It was a bold, new world. Lesbians on a seat of power and wealth.
Mandy stood up, spread her legs slightly as her companion, Lize, slipped out of bed, knelt before her; and with her full lips, silently went to work on Mandy’s soft region, her groin. Mandy clasped her hand around Lize’s head, rhymatically at work on her precious zone.
Mandy continued her story, included the tale of the black-ringed lezian from Natty’s motel, a promiscuous Italian lezian known for many rings for many lovers. Kelly her name was. Kelly remembered a spry lezian, clean as a whistle, and good on the pole, at the lezian strip club. Destiny her name was.
Destiny went to work one night on a white ring name Jess-Beth. Never got the white ring lezian to seriously engage with her. Hurt, she discovered one night, her companion’s associates. They invited her to a white-ring group. Casually involved, she learned of the “White Room”.
In the dark of night, discovered Jess-Beth’s hidden “White Room”. Outside the building, Destiny stripped down to almost nothing, and slipped into the “White Room”. She crept steadily like a panther to the middle of the room, unclasped the soft cloth on her ‘virgin zone’.
Her breast bare, and her legs slightly set to the side, she laid on her back and went rhymatically to work on herself. Her fingers expertly rubbed and simulated her groin, orgasmed and let loose warm fluids.
She left at 4 AM in the morning. Coincidentally, the white-rings inspected Jess-Beth’s White Room. Found a loin-cloth and evidence of stains, left by love-making. Destiny’s vengeance was complete. Jess-Beth left the next day. The White Room was sullied, so was her power.
Yet, the lezian world was lenient: especially to their own. It was not the end for Jess-Beth: she never left the white rings, and in the end, as lezians paired up again and again, her punishment was almost light slap on the wrist. Nothing serious, but that was part of their game, the rings:
The White Room.
(Disclaimer: all ressemblances in this story to real people, places, and things are purely coincidental. All stories from this page and account are compiled from local open, non-licensed, non-copyrighted free-to-distribute and use submissions for literature clubs, contests, and creative writing groups. They include Kelsi Brooks and various other LBQT writers. Feel free to copy, expand, derive future works. Include this disclaimer: this is the only condition for using or deriving works from this series.)