The Locked Up Lesbian In My Closet

[Author's note: Lily has inserted herself onto the staff roster of the Grand Hotel for the Literotica Convention. That's as much as I know. She's probably up to something. Knowing her, I'll probably find out at the same time you do. But, that Qupid app is turning up everywhere....

Please read the tags. There is gratuitous poetry in this story and at least one Deus Ex Machina. If these things offend you, then please feel free to browse other stories.

This is part of the

Virtual Literotica Convention 2025 Story Event

.]

---

Lily inspected the uniform. It was smart: light grey, a tailored jacket with matching knee-length skirt. She would pair it with mid-rise heels because she had the feeling that she was going to be on her feet all night.

She stripped out of her jeans and t-shirt, stuffing them quickly into the locker, standing in the staff changing room in just her underwear. Lily had selected the white lace camisole top and tiny matching g-string, admiring the way it hugged her slim, lithe body. Her breasts were pert, modest, so she could avoid a bra. Unhitching a bra clasp could waste precious moments.

She slipped the crisp, white blouse on first. She'd chosen a size too small, deliberately, so that when she buttoned up the front, it pressed tightly against her chest. She buttoned all the way up to her neck. It looked sexier like that.

Next, she slid on the skirt. It was also a size too small, even for Lily's slim hips, and she had to tug it up over her thighs. She tucked the blouse into it, smoothed her hands down the tight, grey fabric and fastened herself up. She turned to the mirror, noting the way the material clung to her toned thighs and shaped her rear into a delectable, plump pillow. She patted her rump appreciatively, then put on the jacket and brushed out her long, blonde hair until it sat in a perfect, straight line down her spine.

Lily stepped into her heels, bare-legged, noting the way they gave her an extra kick of height, her emerald eyes inspecting each detail of her appearance: her soft face, accented with just enough make-up; the elegant line of her neck, drawing the eye down between the lapels of her jacket to the tight stretch of her blouse over her breasts; down, to her flat, trim tummy, her slender hips; all the way down in flowing contours to her shapely legs, her bare calves trimmed by the high heels.

She pinned her name badge onto her jacket.

"That's probably enough exposition." Lily gathered up her access pass and phone, and headed towards the door. "You probably get the picture."

She walked out into the vast atrium, the click of her heels echoing through the space as she crossed the polished, white concrete floor towards the reception desk.

Alex

was already there, trying not to look flustered as another guest joined the line. Lily slid into the seat next to her, flashing Alex a quick smile.

Alex handed a keycard to a pretty young woman with pink and black hair, who asked her, "And where is the exhibition space? I need to set up."

"Second floor, Ms.

Bella

, there should be someone there to help you bump in your display equipment. Do you have a safety vest?"

"There's nothing safe about it," the woman replied, smiling, and then turned away.

"Busy?" Lily asked.

Alex gave her a meaningful look. "Thank God," she whispered.

"The cavalry has arrived," Lily replied, and raised a hand smoothly, beckoning the next set of guests over to check in.

A thick-set, bulky man walked up to the desk, accompanied by a slim woman with honey-brown skin and a thick braid of long, black hair. She didn't make eye contact, deferring to her partner.

"Name?"

"

Marlowe

," the man rumbled, "And my wife,

Victoria

."

"Checking in for the Literotica Convention?"

"Yes, please."

Lily examined her screen. "Yes, oh. I hope you're not superstitious?"

Victoria's face tightened. "Why?"

"I have you on floor thirteen."

Lily gave them both a warm smile, and elaborated. "The hotel actually only goes up to twelve floors, but we've reserved those for real people. Story characters are on thirteen and above."

Victoria frowned. "Uh, and how many floors are there?"

"We've added four more floors so far, but I believe they're writing in floor seventeen at the moment. It's going to have, uh, a specialized gym area, if you know what I mean."

Lily tapped at the keyboard for a moment, and then pressed two key cards to the reader next to her screen. She tucked them into a little folder and wrote the room number down.

"Here you go, thirteen-oh-three. Elevators are to the left. Do enjoy the convention."

"We will," Marlowe replied, taking the key cards.

He took the handle of a large suitcase and wheeled it towards the elevator bay, his other hand spread across his wife's back. Lily could see a thin, dark strip of leather wound through her braid, ending in a little silver ring. Marlowe had slid his finger through the ring, tugging it down slightly, forcing his wife to raise her chin as she walked.

Lily turned to Alex. "Gonna be a busy weekend."

Alex frowned.

"What's the matter?" Lily asked.

"How come it's Alex and not

Alex

anymore? That's changed."

Lily smiled. "You only need one origin-story reference per character introduction. Otherwise, it would be

Lily

this,

Lily

that,

Lily

,

Lily

,

Lily

,

Lily

until everyone's so sick of it."

Alex frowned, dubiously. "That was just showing off."

Lily shrugged. "I can't help it. I've got so much backstory, it's practically foreshadowing."

She turned her attention to the next guest.

He was a dwarf, standing a little way back from the counter to maintain eye contact. "Good evening, I'd like to check in."

"Of course, sir. Real or fictional?"

"Fictional, Cyrano, as in de Bergerac. Not very inventive."

Lily nodded, tapping the keyboard. "Authors rarely are. Ah, yes. Floor fourteen. Not the original then?"

Cyrano shook his head. "Ah, no. If only. Technically, he's out of copyright by now so he could turn up at any point. But no, I'm not the celebrity version."

"I have you booked in a suite."

"King bed?"

"Yes."

"Good, I'm anticipating an eventful stay."

"Anything you're looking forward to especially?"

"Oh, generally, I'll be spending some of my time at the lectures. Maybe take in some of the demonstrations, but generally I expect I'll find myself underneath a tall woman's skirt at some point. That's usually how these things go."

"You've been in that position before."

Cyrano laughed, showing even white teeth. His cheeks dimpled when he laughed. "One point I always need to make about dwarfism. Everything else is in normal proportions, or, well, ahem, above-average proportions. It makes quite an impression, the contrast." He reached up and took his key card. "I do alright."

"You might want to check out the atrium bar, sir," Lily replied. "If you get tired of that."

"Why?"

"The barman is offering complementary deep-dive character expositions."

"Ah, if I wanted to reflect on my life journey, my deep desires, that sort of thing? Thank you, I'll bear it in mind."

Cyrano gave her a nod and then turned away. He was nearly bowled over by a younger woman with red hair and a harried expression. She bustled up to the reception desk, targeting Lily before another guest could step in. Lily gave her a polite smile. It was going to be a long shift.

"Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes. I went to my room, but there's someone in my room," the redheaded woman explained, quickly.

"Could I look at your keycard?"

The woman handed it over and Lily tapped it against the reader. The reservation details came up on her screen, and Lily looked up.

"And what would be the problem, Ms. Gersemi?"

"There's uh, a man in my room."

"Yes, your boyfriend, Alex. He checked in an hour ago. He wanted to surprise you."

"Uh, no, that's

Freya's

boyfriend, my character. I'm

Freya Gersemi

, I'm here with my husband."

Lily raised her eyebrows theatrically. "Your husband, Ms. Gersemi?"

"Yes."

"You decided to attend the Literotica Convention with your husband?"

Freya's face coloured. "Uh, yes," she stammered.

Lily gave her a long look. "Let me get you the correct room key. Oh, and Ms. Gersemi, may I commend you on your breathtaking display of courage."

---

The check-in line finally died down, and Alex went on her break. She picked her phone up and Lily glimpsed her screen.

"You're on the app," she observed, and Alex halted.

"What app?"

"Qupid."

Alex tucked the phone into a pocket guiltily. "It's just for talking. Before this job, I was at a smaller hotel on the edge of town, mostly on night shifts. It's... it was good to have someone to talk to."

"I guess it can get pretty lonely."

"Yeah. That's why they call it the graveyard shift. Played hell with my body clock. I like these hours better."

Alex smiled, but there was still an awkwardness about her. The phone beeped in her pocket. "Anyway, gotta go. Be back in fifteen."

Lily watched the other woman walk away, taking hurried steps. Yes, Qupid could be insistent. The virtual partner was good at coming up with all sorts of ideas. As expected, Alex didn't go through the door to the staff break area. Instead, she went directly to the bathrooms. Lily turned her attention to the crowds milling in the atrium.

The Literotica Convention was getting underway, a large group gathering in the bar area. A tall man with a microphone walked onto a little stage set amid the tables. He tapped it experimentally.

Ah yes, Lily recalled, looking down at the conference agenda: erotic author readings. She had to wonder at the judgement of putting this show on in the middle of the atrium and not in one of the ballrooms, out of the way of the general public. Or, of giving them a microphone so that each word carried clearly through the wide atrium. Lily looked up at the floors rising above them on all sides, enclosing the vast, open space. Everyone would hear.

Alex returned a little later, bustling across the floor from the bathrooms. She was a little out of breath when she arrived back at the reception desk. Lily inspected her surreptitiously, noting a rosy glow to her cheeks that had not been evident when she'd left to go on her break. Alex didn't make eye contact, but instead nodded towards the stage.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Author readings," Lily replied.

"Are the kidding?"

"My thoughts exactly."

Alex took her seat, shuffling her bottom as if trying to settle again. "Maybe there won't be any."

"Authors?" Lily chuckled.

"Yeah. I mean, it's quite intimidating, standing up and reading out your work, right?"

Lily nodded in agreement. "I'd imagine it would take a very specific type of person to relate their own sex scene to an audience."

"Yeah, it's not something that anyone would normally ever choose to do."

"Oh Alex, since when did the words 'author' and 'normally' ever go in the same sentence? Just watch."

A man stepped up onto the stage, and the emcee greeted him with a handshake. Just then, the phone rang. Lily picked it up. Alex shot her a look as Lily nodded, listening to the person on the other end.

"I'll be right up. No need to worry."

The voice babbled.

"No, more often than you'd think," Lily replied.

She put the phone down. "Alex, can you cover the desk? I've got to go up to fifteen-oh-two."

"What's the matter?"

Lily rose from her seat and straightened her skirt. "Oh, let's just say that the party's started."

Lily clicked across the polished floor on her heels, going towards the elevators. Yes, the party was underway. It was going to be a very busy weekend.

Across the atrium, there was a scattering of applause as the man on the stage handed the microphone back to the emcee. Lily watched him disappear back into the crowd, and it struck her that he'd looked nothing like she might have expected. He could have been a businessman: later middle age, neat hair, in a shirt and trousers, like he was at an engineering convention and not a festival of the erotic.

"It's always the quiet ones," she muttered to herself.

A well-dressed man walked onto the stage, resplendent in a padded Edwardian smoking jacket in deep green that was at odds with his white sneakers. He took up his position behind the lectern and looked out at the gathered faces. The emcee raised his microphone.

"A piece of poetry now from

ElectricBlue

. I'm sure that many of you are familiar with his work, the considered, tight prose, the exploration of the meanings behind actions. This will be a treat. His latest piece is an exploration of objectification, of the challenges of loving differently, what it means to a relationship, and ultimately, as indeed we all feel sometimes, whether the differences are too great, dooming us to failure. ElectricBlue, please."

There was a polite scattering of applause and then a hush descended. Lily stopped to watch as ElectricBlue gripped the edge of the lectern and cleared his throat.

"There once was a girl from Nantucket, who wanted to make love to a bucket. But she had hesitations about long-term relations, so she just made her mind up to fuck it."

---

Lily knocked on the door to room 1502. After a moment, it was opened by a full-figured, flustered-looking young woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, wrapped in a bathrobe. The woman locked startling blue eyes on Lily.

"You wanted help with something?" Lily offered.

The woman blinked. "Yes, uh.

Cynthia

. I'm Cynthia."

"Lily," Lily announced, tapping her name badge. "May I come in?"

Cynthia hesitated, flustered, but then stepped to the side to allow Lily to enter. The hotel room seemed neat and tidy: the bedsheets a little rumpled, two suitcases open, displaying a jumble of contents, but otherwise nothing out of place. Lily turned to Cynthia. There was nobody else in the room.

"And what would the problem be?" she asked.

Cynthia blushed furiously, hugging herself. It had the effect of plumping her ample cleavage and opening up a gap in the bathrobe, showing a glimpse of burgundy silk. Cynthia closed the robe up again hurriedly. Lily looked down the other woman's body, noting her stockinged feet. She waited patiently.

"I, uh, I mean, my girlfriend and I...." Cynthia's voice trailed off, then offered, "

Katie

."

"Katie, okay, and what about Katie?"

Cynthia's cheeks coloured deeper. Lily let the silence draw out. Eventually, Cynthia cleared her throat.

"I... I mean we... we were playing. We'd decided to have, uh, a play before we went down to dinner. We were both very, uh...."

"Frisky?" Lily offered.

Cynthia nodded quickly. "Frisky, yes."

"So you decided to play a little, first. Of course." Lily made a show of looking around the empty room. "And then?"

"Well, then we had an issue. I mean, I'm sure I packed everything. You don't forget something like that. I just, I can't find them anywhere."

Lily glanced over at the suitcases. Cynthia nodded.

"I've been through both suitcases, twice."

"What did you lose?" Lily persisted.

Cynthia ground to a halt, unable to meet Lily's eyes. Her face was pink. "Keys," she confessed.

Lily arched an eyebrow. "Keys? For what, specifically?"

"Uh, locks. Little padlocks."

Lily let the seconds pass, watching Cynthia squirm. "Little padlocks for what?"

Cynthia's shoulders slumped, and she suddenly looked defeated. She reached out for the closet handle and opened the doors. Lily turned to look.

Kneeling on a pillow in the closet was another woman. She was petite, almost pixie-like, with mousey-brown hair. She was blindfolded, her lips parted by a bright red ball gag. She was clad in a black leather harness that revealed the gleaming nipple piercings in her pert breasts, and framed her shaved pussy. She was trussed with her hands behind her back in such a way as to curve her spine, lifting her breasts on full display. She shuddered, reacting to being exposed at last.

Lily took a long look at the helpless, kneeling woman. Silently, she bent closer, inspecting the young woman's predicament. Finally she stood up.

"That's a lot of locks."

Lily closed the doors again. Cynthia turned to her in confusion. Lily beckoned her away towards the windows and after a moment, Cynthia followed.

"So?" Cynthia asked. "Can you help?"

Lily appraised her for a moment. "Yes. Though it does depend on what you mean by help."

"I don't understand."

Lily smiled. "Can I help, as in, have I seen this before? The answer to that is yes. The further you travel the wilder it gets."

"Travel? Where?"

Lily shrugged. "Out into the middle of it all. Everywhere. All the stories. But, for you, specifically, can I suggest something?"

Lily's emerald eyes glittered. A ghost of a smile curled her lips.

"I suppose," Cynthia replied. "What did you have in mind? Can you help with the locks?"

"I can help with the locks," Lily confirmed. "You really went to town there, by the way. A lock on the ball gag, a lock on the collar. Locks on the wrist cuffs to the back of the harness, then locks on the ankle cuffs too. She's completely helpless. You could do anything to her. Was that the plan?"

Cynthia shuffled, uncomfortable. "Yes," she replied in a tiny voice.

"Until you misplaced the keys." Lily straightened, seeing the way that Cynthia sagged. "First time?"

"First time doing this, yes. I mean, it's a fantasy we talked about. The harness, the hotel room."

"The closet?"

"Yeah. There's just something so hot about tying her up and then shutting her away."

"Like she's there to be taken out and played with when you want?"

Cynthia bit her lip. It was all Lily needed to know.

"But now it's ruined. How's Katie going to react to all this, having someone come in and...?"

Lily let the sentence hang in the air. Cynthia shook her head, and muttered, "It's a disaster."

Lily paused. "Maybe not."

She slipped her jacket off and unfastened the top few buttons of her shirt, just enough to reveal her cleavage. She laid the jacket down on the bed and explored the open suitcases.

"What are you doing?" Cynthia asked.

In reply, Lily extracted a pair of shiny, black stiletto heels from the suitcase. She stepped out of her shoes and slid them on.

"Where dd you get those? I didn't pack them. They weren't in the suitcase."

Lily swayed back over to Cynthia on her stilettos, overtopping the other woman. "Of course they were," Lily replied. "You saw me take them out, along with this."

Lily held up a thin leather riding crop. Cynthia stared at it, wide-eyed. Lily fixed her with a look.

"Take the bathrobe off, Cynthia."

"What? I'm not doing that. Where did you get that crop?"