Afraid to Get Caught

Lyra rang Scarlett’s doorbell expecting her, not Scarlett’s mother, to swing the door open. Scarlett drifted down the stairs, but her mother met her at the landing with narrowed eyes. Going to watch movies? Then why dress up? The girls insisted the tank tops and shorts were just routine, nothing worth noting. Her mother knew the look of mischief in Lyra’s smile, remembered that girl who smuggled boys between the sheets. Lyra tried the honeyed line and generous laugh, but Mother wasn’t buying it—she’d watch every move. They escaped upstairs. As soon as the door clicked, they grabbed each other. Soft giggles filled the space between their lips: boys were dull, they knew; Scarlett still believed they liked them. They parted to breathe, kissed again, missed tongues already aching despite yesterday’s heat. Lyra took the lead. She peeled Scarlett’s top away, cupped each breast, and ran her tongue over the stiff peaks. “Mmm…smy…good.” She stayed sucking, tasting warm skin while quick hands dragged the shorts down. Kissing her way lower, she parted soft folds and licked in steady strokes. Scarlett bit her own wrist, spilling breathy whines into her palm, every shiver damped, every moan trapped inside because Mother lived two floors below and could not hear a thing.