Good Kisser?

Alexis slides the pizza into the oven just as the bell rings. Karla bursts in, mascara streaked, raw from the fight. He left, and on his way out he called her a lousy kisser. Alexis laughs, but Karla’s eyes are serious. She wants proof—now—from the one person she trusts. Alexis hesitates, afraid of crossing a line, yet her friend’s pain pulls at her. She finally nods. Their lips meet, cautious at first. Then hunger takes over. Karla’s breath quickens, Alexis’s hands slip beneath the soft cotton of her friend’s shirt, finding warm, bare skin. The kiss deepens, wet and open, and what began as comfort turns into something neither expected. Natural curves press together, blonde hair brushing brunette, every movement heavier with need. The timer on the oven ticks away, ignored.