The Slightest Touch

Olivia lay on the table, spine tight. Tomorrow she would enter the convent. She wanted one last taste before God took the rest. Emma stopped moving her hands. The older woman asked what Olivia meant. Olivia smiled but kept her eyes closed. Emma guessed. She asked if Olivia wanted to have sex before she pledged herself. Olivia nodded. She had no one. She had given up on finding the right body. Emma’s hands felt soft, her breath certain. She kept stroking slow until Olivia opened her thighs an inch. Then Emma dipped lower. Fingers brushed wet folds, and Olivia let a small moan slip out. Emma leaned in and pressed her tongue flat across the same spot. The muscle circled, licking deeper with each pass. Olivia’s legs shook. She reached down, held Emma’s hair, and stayed exactly there while Emma kept tasting every shaking inch of her.