Stay at My Place

Jenna's crashing with Charlotte until she finds a place. When Charlotte says she needs to get ready for work, Jenna kisses her—slow and sure. Charlotte leaves the room thrown. Naked now, she steps toward the shower, pulls the curtain, and finds Jenna already inside, smirking. "What the hell are you doing?" Charlotte asks. Jenna shrugs. "You said you had to get ready. Thought we could save water." She reaches out, takes Charlotte's wrist, and draws her under the spray. Jenna's hands move fast—slick soap, firm strokes over Charlotte's breasts, down her stomach, between her legs. Charlotte hasn't even caught her breath before Jenna steps out, towel around her hair, gone. The rejection hits harder than Charlotte expects. Work drags. That night, back at the apartment, she can't shake it. She tells Jenna the couch can't be comfortable and that she should sleep upstairs from now on. Charlotte goes up first, slips into a black lace set, lies on top of the covers, waiting. Jenna comes in quiet. She undresses without ceremony, skin bare under soft light, and climbs in. Charlotte feels the mattress shift, then Jenna's body against hers. No more empty nights.