How Can I Repay You?

Eliza Ibarra sits at a café table, mid-bite, when the chunk catches in her windpipe. She doubles over, face flushing crimson as air scrapes raw in her throat. Panic flares. A young waitress sees and yells for a doctor, voice cracking over the chatter. Lacy Lennon hears it from the next table, moves fast. “Paramedic,” she says, already stepping behind Eliza. Arms circle the slim waist. Three quick, controlled thrusts. The piece pops free; Eliza sucks in a ragged breath and sags, light-headed. Lacy eases her down to the cool floor tiles, cradling the back of her head with surprising gentleness. Minutes later Eliza smiles through tears and blurts, “Let me take you to dinner—please.” On the balcony of Lacy’s apartment the wine is still open when hands reach. Eliza strokes the soft inside of Lacy’s wrist, pupils blown wide. “I’ve wanted to touch you all night,” she whispers. They kiss—hard, greedy, tasting tart red on each other’s tongues. Lacy peels Eliza’s shirt away, clamps warm lips over an erect nipple; Eliza moans and returns the favor, yanking Lacy’s top aside, mouthing at soft, heavy breasts until nipples slick and stiff. Their breaths fuse, bodies arching toward payment that feels richer than any debt.