Trace of Love

Lucy steps inside her mother's house and sets her bag down. Claire is already there, waiting. They settle on the old bed like they did when they were younger. In the soft light Lucy brushes her fingers over Claire's bare arm, tracing the line of muscle under dark skin. The touch moves higher, skimming over the swell of Claire's breasts through thin cotton, then down again across her stomach. Claire's breath catches. She leans in and kisses Lucy, slow at first, then deeper. Lucy answers, pressing her body close. Her hand slips beneath Claire's shirt, palms the warm weight of her breasts, thumbs brushing stiff nipples. Claire's fingers slide along Lucy's thigh, higher, until they find her bare and wet. They move together, mouths never far apart, hips rocking into each other's hands until the room is filled with the soft sounds of skin on skin and quiet, urgent breaths.