Sneaky Snakes

Florence sits across from Dominique's desk like she belongs there. She always does. The warden doesn't waste words. She wants names, stories, the little details that can't be found in paperwork. Florence gives them willingly. She speaks slowly, letting the weight of every word land. Patty and Maria. Together. Quietly. Dangerous in any other context. Then she twists it. Pins it on Mimi. Mimi, who spends her nights wet and shaking because Patty broke her open months ago. Mimi, who still hasn't learned how to keep the truth off her face when Patty walks by. Florence mentions her casually, without guilt. The decision comes quick. Mimi goes to the hole tomorrow. Dominique leans back, lips parting just enough to smile. This new leverage sits warm between them. She stands. Her skirt splits over her thighs when she steps around the desk. Fingers trace Florence's jaw, then lower. She presses the girl back until her shoulders meet wood. Dominique's mouth finds Florence's throat, and she lets her teeth graze the pulse point beneath her tongue. "Good girl," she says, sliding her palm between Florence's legs. "Take what's yours." Florence answers with hips, with open legs. Dominique's fingers move with purpose—slow circles that build, then push deeper, slick and unrelenting. The desk creaks under their weight. Florence pants, barely keeping her voice down. Dominique laughs low in her ear, pleased. She fucks her until Florence's thighs shake, until her heels skid against the floor. Later, the warden wipes her fingers clean on Florence's tongue. Neither of them mentions Mimi again.