At Home Exam

Chanel Preston stands in nothing but her silk robe, running her hands over her bare breasts. She calls out for Valentina. The girl appears in the doorway, stops cold when she sees her stepmother half naked, and quickly turns her face to the wall. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” she asks. Chanel answers in a calm voice: it’s time she learned to check for lumps. Valentina protests, but her stepmother insists the lesson is too important to skip. Reluctantly, Valentina steps forward. She cups Chanel’s breast, feeling its weight, and sweeps gentle circles with her fingertips. Nothing irregular. She steps back to leave, but Chanel stops her. “Your turn,” she says. She lifts the hem of Valentina’s tank top, slips the straps down, and unhooks her bra. Valentina flinches. Chanel’s palm is warm against her skin. Before the check can begin, Valentina jerks away. Chanel catches her wrists and says, “Better me than a stranger, don’t you think?” Valentina breathes through her nose, weighing the words, then nods once and stays put. Chanel leans in. Her tongue circles a tightening nipple, wetting it, tasting it. Valentina gasps. “What are you doing?” “Making sure you relax,” Chanel murmurs, and takes the nipple between her lips again. Valentina’s knees weaken. Her eyes close. Her hands, at first curled at her sides, uncurl, reach for Chanel’s hips. They find warm silk and heat beneath it. She leans into the mouth working on her breast, surrendering to its rhythm, every pull of lips and tongue stripping away the last resistance. When Chanel draws her to the bed and kisses down the hollow of her throat, Valentina lifts her hips so the remaining clothes can be peeled away. She gives in completely, hips tilting, thighs parting, the woman who raised her now taking her apart with nothing left between them.