Who Needs Dad?

Serene stands before the full-length mirror, easing into a dress that clings like a second skin. Aidra slips through the door already polished and perfumed. She stops short, a grin flashing. "God, you look stunning," she says. Serene turns, flushed with pleasure. "Thank you, sweetheart. It feels good to dress up again with you home from school. I haven't worn anything this tight in months." They hover by the doorway, heels ready, waiting on the buzz of Dad’s key. Minutes drag. A single text lands. Serene reads it twice. He’s stuck at the office. Again. Her shoulders drop. Anger pricks beneath the silk. Aidra’s mouth tightens. She reaches for her stepmother’s hand. "He always does this. I swear he’s forgotten how lucky he is." Comfort slides into closeness. Serene’s fingers curve around Aidra’s waist. Aidra leans nearer, whispering that she hates seeing her like this, hates the way her own father pushes women aside. Breaths mingle. The fabric between their bodies suddenly feels like a barrier. Serene admits softly, "Women have always treated me better anyway. There was a girl in college... she used her mouth like she truly cared." Aidra’s smile turns knowing. Her palm slides upward, cupping the swell of Serene’s breast through the dress. Serene’s lashes flutter. "This is wrong," she breathes, but her nipple stiffens under Aidra’s thumb. The truth melts between them. Cloth sighs to the floor. Aidra sinks to her knees, tongue tracing eager circles over Serene’s clit while fingers thrust in, wet and precise. Serene arches back, her breast pressed to Aidra’s slick mound, friction building until each woman’s hips rock in sync. No more waiting for any man.