The Perfect Gift

Fable is done. She wants out of this party, out of this house, out of the sightline of every woman she used to touch. Mrs. Bell keeps smiling, promising Lola won’t come near her again, but the storm has other plans. Snow piles against the windows, sealing the doors. Fable takes the stairs anyway. She pauses at the last room on the left—the room that once belonged to both of them. The knob turns easily. Lola is already inside, bare except for a thin black lace set that frames her natural breasts and leaves nothing to imagination. Her blonde hair spills over one shoulder. She stands at the foot of the bed like an offering. Fable steps in, shuts the door behind her, and lets the lock click. Lola’s nipples stiffen under the lace as the cold draft sweeps across them. She spreads her feet a little, letting the fabric between her legs stretch taut. Every inch of her is on display—full, round tits rising with each breath, smooth thighs parted, bare feet sinking into the carpet. Fable takes her time looking. She’s been promised distance. She’s been promised control. But Lola’s body is the gift she never asked for and can’t seem to refuse.