Lesbian Comedic Erotica: ‘Ms. Lange’


The following is a short story by lesbian comic, writer, actor and director Mollie Merkel. Enjoy!

Art by Leora Juster

Ms. Lange 

Sometimes you get up in the morning and you have to be somewhere. Like work or a business meeting or if your an addict like me…a coffee shop. It’s okay…I’ve made peace with it. Two cups is my max. One, if I know I need to be vulnerable with a friend or lover. Okay I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you some days I do two and half which I’m neither ashamed or proud of. I figure if my central nervous system wants a light boxing match for the day…maybe it’s good cardiovascular exercise for her. Who am I to judge my central nervous system? There are endocrinologists for that. This is when my inner empath tells me I’m in denial and I go back to drinking just two cups MAX.

And then there are days when you are completely free and your intuition tells you to go to Topanga and sing Karaoke. Because spoiler alert… just like my coffee I’m also addicted to romance… in moderation of course. I take my coffee like I take my women, fair trade and good quality. Okay, that joke I’m ashamed of. Picture me putting my hand over my face.

Doing activities by yourself is very freeing. You can be whoever you want to be that night. Everyone is a “stranger”.


Interior Karaoke bar.

I walked up to the bar and ordered an IPA. My theory is if you are in a dive bar you should drink beer and if you are going to drink a beer it should taste like one. I debated in my head if I would sing something by Stevie Nicks or Nanci Griffith as that felt like my best wheelhouse tonally, I felt a tap on my arm. She pointed to the bartender that had my change. And then I started to get chills in my body because I could feel her energy. I couldn’t believe it was her. I didn’t want to lose my shit but I also kinda wanted to lose my shit. Instead I took her in. She was sensual. She smelled like tangerines, seasalt, and mystery.

All the loud noises in the bar seemed to fade as she spoke ever so gracefully.

I looked her in the eyes and her deep brown eyes made me recollect a past life encounter between us. Perhaps we met in Germany at the Olympic ceremony, and could never be together because Hitler was such a buzzkill when it came to love. But that was past life. This is this life.

I figured I’d break the ice by asking her a playful question.

“So what would you like me to call you…Jessica…Jess…Jessie?” As she handed me her beer she whispered, “You will see.” She bit her bottom lip, and then glided to the stage as if she was some sort of mystical African Gazelle type Being.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. But I did just so she wouldn’t become uncomfortable. It’s the least I could do. After holding her beer of course. I chose to look at an antique on the wall of a washboard because when you’re awkward there’s no way around it. You just gotta divert eye contact or people start to suspect your awkwardness and I’m trying to keep it at bay. But my instincts brought me back as I just had to see her friendly brown eyes again. In the same way you don’t HAVE to shower, but you probably should.

Jessica is on stage singing Janet Jackson song

“I’m not a prude. I just want some respect. That’s right. So close the door if you want me to respond cause privacy is my middle name. “ (All I could think was it’s actually Phyllis but didn’t think it was appropriate to correct or say out loud in the middle of her performance). “My last name is control. No my first name ain’t Baby. It’s Jessica. Ms. Lange if your Nasty”. And THEN she pointed right to me. I looked behind me and there was no one, and then I dropped her beer right out of my hands. The beer shattered in tiny pieces and as the staff cleaned it up swiftly, Jessica took my hand and said, “Let’s get out of here.” Before I knew it, we were in a white Tesla and she told her driver, Raphael, to head to the Hills and not to mention this to anyone. There was a nice thunderstorm brewing which reminded me of my corn picking days where we would run in the fields of gold at night to natures sprinkler system. I wanted to tell Jessica but she didn’t seem to want to “talk.”

She then gently kissed me on my lips, grabbed the back of my French girl haircut, and said let’s fall in love this week. A week turned into a month and a month turned into three. So basically our sex life has become my part time job. The philosophy, “do what you love and you will never work another day in life,” comes to mind as she throws me into the mint chocolate chip covered wall in her hallway as we make love standing up.

I’m just wild about her. She knows it too. But she’s not abusive with her “power” and she gives me just the right amount of attention.

For instance when she comes down in her lavender silk robe and I’m making her homemade pour over coffee in the mornings…she puts her hands down my pants pulls me in, kisses me on the neck and says, “I have to go. I’m filming a movie in Greece with Ryan Murphy.”

To which I reply, “OKAY “. She can do no wrong in my eyes.

While she was away in Greece, I just got back to basics. You know, started doing my laundry again. Brushing my hair. Eating 3 full meals a day. We were making love so much, we kind of just forgot. Honest. I also started my exercise regimen backup. Half ballet half trampoline. With Jessica I didn’t need to work out. We were so physical. I was burning so many calories a day. In fact…I lost so much weight I developed poor circulation. Not only did I have to start sleeping with socks on…I had to get a space heater. Thank God Jessica is filming I can finally start seeing my acupuncturist, Dr. Chung, to get my poor circulation back on track. My friends are happy to see me again too, and me them. I also got back to writing my book, Conscious Uncoupling with your Terrier. Which is tough stuff guys. It is not easy. Don’t get me wrong, I miss surfing with her in Malibu, bumper cars late at night in the valley, and taking night strolls for ice cream cones. But, It’s important to have your own life in any couple I’m realizing.

As we chatted on the phone one night, countries apart. I said, “You’re responsible for this.”

She replied bashfully, “I am?” I imagined she twirled her hair and looked up into space. Man is she dreamy. And don’t let her fool you. She knows exactly what she’s doing. We stayed up till two that night. She insisted we FaceTime so she could see me naked. I mean I knew she was in to black and white photography, but I had no idea she was such a sexual being. Of course I couldn’t say no to her. It’s Ms. Lange we’re talking about here. So I told her she could only see me topless. I had my limits too you know. To be fair she was a little tipsy. She was drinking a petite Syrah that she claimed was a stand alone wine. To which I replied, “The Shirley MaClaine of wines.” Boy did that get her good. She laughed so hard her wine spilled all over the Greek pink tile floor, she had to get a towel from the bathroom. Her and Shirley were good pals from filming Wild Oats. That was way before Jessica and I met. She said she sewed them. The oats that is. I’ve yet to this day see her sew. Apparently Sam Shepard was the domestic one in their relationship. I think he was the love of her life, but she deserves some fun too you know? So I try not to focus on it too much. And give her what she desires. Which seems to be sex.

Sometimes I think that’s all she wants from me which hurts my feelings. But I try not to take it personally and realize she’s experienced exponential amounts of vulnerability and emotions and maybe that’s not what she wants in this relationship. Once she told me I looked like Sam in jeans and a white T-Shirt. It was flattering but no one wants to be in Sam Shepard’s shadow. Unless of course your an ancient Chinese woman spirit guide protecting him. I’m going to have to set a boundary to the affect of “Jessica, you have to love me for me. Not how much I look like Sam Shepard in a white T-Shirt in Jeans.”

I’m hoping this conflict builds intimacy. And it could be a nice segway in bringing up my emotional needs. Which I’ve seemed to have abandoned since I walked into that Karaoke Bar. Emotional needs would be having conversations about who we actually are. Our fears, triggers, and who our inner child is. How we like to express ourselves. Our love languages. Mine being a 3 way tie of words of affirmation, touch, and quality time. Heck, maybe we could even talk about our spirit animals. She has no idea mine is the Cheetah.

I think I’m going to have to drink one cup of coffee tomorrow and be vulnerable with her. Jessica is very intimidating which means her spirit animal could be a lion. I should not assume one’s spirit animal and rather ask her tomorrow. Along with her love language and how she is dealing with the grief of Sam. I’m of course empathetic, hence the cheetah being my spirit animal. I want her to know I’ll be there for her.

I’d love to keep writing about our current love affair but I have to pick her up at LAX in 2 hours and she gets very dramatic when she flies. Which means she wants me there on time. And by on time. I mean one hour early. Other than that she’s just a down to earth gal.

 Growing up on a farm where it wasn’t okay to be who I was, I started to develop fantasies about older successful Hollywood Actresses. They were my window into emotions, sexuality, and freedom. And in my imagination I thought it would be fun to experiment with them wanting a grounded experience that diverted from this big strange Hollywood world where they were maybe not able to be their true selves.


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