The Zombie with Flowers in Her Hair
Lesbian Vs. Zombies

Excerpt

Chapter One

"Niceass," I said, and handed hers back to her. "You should carry Vaseline-coatedcovers with you in your bag. Next time, I might not be here to notice your cutelittle tush stuck to the toilet seat." I put on my best smile and slippedmy blasé look into the pocket of my brown flannel shirt. "So, what wasyour name?"

"You-youknow?" Uncomely lines creased her slick forehead, a feature in full viewbecause she wore her dark brown hair parted in the middle and draped behindnicely rounded shoulders. Pert little tits jiggled under her ankle-length, egg-whitelinen dress.

Asidefrom the stutter, the undead creature's voice contained a musical interlude allits sexy own. The words strummed from her tongue, soft as a guitar played in agarden. A delicious-looking tongue, I might add. Not to mention the smooth,nearly perfect lips that parted for every rich note to pass between. I noticed.So did my clit. The unexpected throb hinted in that direction, anyway.

Mynipples strained against the flannel. A wave of tightened muscles softly creptfrom one side of my vagina to the other.

Damn. Ihadn't been so turned on since Karen had been sucking my tits in the passengerseat of my VW and I'd accidentally kicked the gearshift into neutral. We hadn'tnoticed until the car rolled over the cliff. All that ear-shattering silenceand the car's perpendicular attitude were hard to miss. And kind of broke themoment.

Therock quarry's water, sixty feet below, broke everything else.

Whythe turtles ate Karen and not me . . . . Maybe it had to do with the cherrycough drops she always had in her mouth. I hadn't touched cherry cough dropssince. Better safe than sorry, and all of those other clichés.

Orit could have been the THC, I suppose. I'd smoked a nickel bag of Columbianbuds all on my own. Karen was a straight. Well, about drugs anyway.

"Uh,yeah," I chimed, my voice as pleasantly interested as I could manage."The living don't leave their butts behind. Pull up your dress"—Oh hell yeah—"and let me see if Ican figure out a way to reattach—"

"No,thanks, I can get it. Not the first time." She walked back to the toilet,a former utility closet, and closed the wooden door.

Huh? Not the first time? I'dglued Velcro to the corners of my mouth in order to switch lips. But Icertainly had no clue how to attach anything else that fell off.

IfI did, I'd have swapped out my tits, as my left was smaller than the right.Karen hadn't seemed to mind, but one of the boys I'd banged in high school hadshared my imbalanced secret with an entire shop class. Unfortunately, I hadtaken the class motto of Under the CoversDoing Fine, We're the Class of '69 a tad too literally.

Wordspread like a cold in the hallways. Come to think of it, after that's whenKaren, my world literature substitute teacher, first offered to privately tutorme. I really couldn't have cared less about Siddhartha or Rasputin—I'd beenpromised a B if I filled the lastslot for the class. But at her apartment, while we listened to Joni Mitchell'slatest album Clouds on Karen'sMarantz stereo, the copy of the KamaSutra she showed me grabbed my full attention. Had to give her credit, shenever made an actual physical move on me until the night of graduation. At therock quarry.

Surewish Dad had fixed that emergency brake.

Thingwas, I awakened from the dead as horny as when we'd gone over the cliff, thetaste of Karen's cherry-flavored lips on my tongue, the wild thrill of hermouth on my breasts, and her teeth nipping my nipples. And no idea how to get aliving woman to finish the job Karen had started. I wanted to come under awoman's touch.

I'dbriefly considered one of the male zombies I'd encountered, just to clean mymind of this constant state of near-orgasm. But somehow, I couldn't get turnedon by the thought of a dismembered member stuck up me while the ownerfrantically tried to reclaim his detached manhood.

Thesock-it-to-me girl in the john, however . . . .

Witha sigh so heavy my shoulders sank, I turned to the sink and cranked on the coldwater. She'd ignored my request for her life-name. Maybe she wasn't into womenor experimentation. I cupped my hands under the flow and splashed water over myface.

Midnight Cowboyhad, only a couple months ago, snagged the public's raw fascination with gay,oddball characters. That didn't mean Joe the bartender would bed Harry thelawyer anytime in the near future. The film had simply provided Harriet the opportunityto share heretofore unspoken fantasies with Josephine next door while they hungclothes on the line. Hidden desires to lick each other's clits probably didn'tcome up in the conversation.

Not the first time.The young woman's words crashed center stage.

"Whatdo you mean, not the first time? And how can you stick your—?"

Thedoor creaked open.

"Allbetter." White and yellow camellia formed a band around her forehead andhair. I blinked. The vending machine on the wall dispensed condoms, not flowers.Where’d she have those hidden? She flipped the back of her hand against herincredibly straight tresses, sending several strands over her shoulder. Hazeleyes shone as if a light inside her beautiful face illuminated them. The skinon her neck glistened like silk under the lone fluorescent bulb. A pale shadeof rose colored her cheeks.

Colored her cheeks?

Iglanced in the small wall mirror at my own ashen features. How had she managedto put what looked like natural color in her cheeks? Oops. The charming smilewas all wrong for the circumstances. I retrieved the blasé one from my shirtpocket and made the exchange.

Amuted giggle trickled from her delicate mouth. A shiver of want rattled throughme. I bit back an urge to tear the body-hugging dress off her and suckle whathad to be a perfectly matched pair of tits. Tiny, but definitely mouthwatering.I swallowed hard.

Shereached out a slender arm.

Wait a minute!

Herarms were bare, and sleek as a toddler's. My long-sleeved, flannel shirts hidthe gray skin drapery hanging from my arms—same reason I wore denim bellbottomseven in the muggiest weather. I filled bowls with skin softener every night inorder to soak my hands and disguise the wrinkles that never stayed away for asmuch as a day. Her hands were smooth, with manicured nails tipped in cobalt.

Whatthe hell? She had to be a zombie. Had to be. But if I hadn't seen her tushplanted on the toilet seat with my own two eyes, I'd have sworn she'd neverdied.

"Closeyour mouth," she whispered.

Isnapped my jaw shut. My teeth clicked together. Hadn't known it had fallenopen. "H-how—?"

Damn. Confusionknotted my tongue. I held my breath and tightened my chest. Then I forced thequestion out in a rush of air. "How come you're so beautiful?"

Anothermarvelous giggle shot straight to my already-erect nipples. The dual pointspoked at the flannel, leaving no doubt of their location.

Shestopped at the mirror and licked her little finger before dabbing at one of herpencil-thin eyebrows.

"Whatare your plans?" she asked, and then shot me a stony glance.

Myback stiffened, and I scraped my fingers through my unruly, over-the-shoulders,brown hair. "I don't know. Usual, I guess."

"Andthat would be?"

Whatwas with the interrogation? It wasn't like zombies had a lot on our minds. Eat,rest, eat, stagger around, eat some more, and eventually wither to nothing.

"Maybesmoke some pot later, if I can find a party somewhere that's got some decentsmoke. Why? You looking for something to do?"

Are you? Huh? Please say yes. BecauseI could find lots to do with you.

"Hasanyone ever said you resemble Janis Joplin?"

Hersmile sent a shudder between my thighs.

"Yeah."I groaned and winced. "All the time. I don't consider it acompliment."

Shestepped to me and placed the tip of her index finger on my hand. Then shetraced her touch up the sleeve covering my arm and over my shoulder as shewalked past me to the bathroom door. My stare followed her like some puppyabout to be abandoned in an alley.

"Ido," she said without looking back. "We made love once. She has apleasing body, but I'll wager yours could please me even more. And one morething. Do you really believe I went to all this trouble to bring you back justso you could smoke pot and eat raw meat?" She opened the door, and let itclick closed behind her.

Iwas dead. Without a doubt, I was dead. But every nerve within me came screamingto life.

"What? You and Janis Joplin? You're alesbian?" I blinked. "Janis is a lesbian?"

Ibolted to the doorway and threw the door open. "And what's this youbrought me back shit? Are you high or something?"

Asoloist plucked a guitar. The lyrics of Leavingon a Jet Plane filled the smoke-clouded coffee house. Longhaired headsnodded in rhythm to the music. Every seat at every round table had an occupant.Barefooted men and women lined the walls.

Butthe zombie with flowers in her hair had vanished.