No One Can Replace Her

Ryan Keely calls her 18-year-old stepdaughter Vanna Bardot into the living room. Vanna drags her feet across the hardwood. Kayla Paige stands up from the couch, all bright eyes and perfume. Ryan makes the introductions with a hand on each woman's waist, then leans in—soft kiss on Vanna's cheek, deeper one for Kayla that leaves a trace of gloss. She leaves them alone. Vanna folds her arms across her chest, jaw tight. Kayla tries small talk about classes, the weather, anything to thaw the air. Vanna gives one-word answers and keeps a couch cushion between them. Silence thickens until Kayla exhales, softens. "I heard about your mom," she says. The name lands like a dropped glass. Vanna's eyes flash. She steps closer, fingers sliding under the hem of Kayla's shirt, lips brushing her ear. "You want to replace her? Fuck me instead?" Kayla startles, then grins—wide, eager. She spins toward the hallway and shouts Ryan's name. Ryan appears in the doorway already unbuttoning her blouse. Both women look at Vanna now, hungry. Vanna's pulse kicks hard. Her bluff has folded; the two most beautiful women she knows want inside her tonight. She feels heat pool low, sharp and sudden, and knows she isn't leaving this room untouched.