Measured To Fit

Jane and Maya tried on their new uniforms. Maya's hung loose on her frame. Jane pulled out her sewing tape. "Hold still," she said, wrapping the tape around Maya's waist. Maya bent forward at her request. Jane crouched behind her, fingers grazing over the curve of her ass as she took the measurement. When it came time for the top, Jane paused. "It won't be accurate with the shirt on," she said. Maya hesitated, then pulled it over her head. Her bra sat snug across her chest, and when she shifted, the waistband of matching panties peeked above her skirt. Jane's pulse jumped. She kept her face steady and looped the tape across Maya's ribs, breasts brushing her knuckles. She lingered. Then: "Lift your arms. I need skin contact." Maya glanced up, but her hands moved anyway. The bra slipped off. Jane's mouth went dry. She cupped each breast, claiming she needed to feel the fabric tension, but the pretense was thin. Maya knew. Still, she didn't pull away. They undressed. Kisses followed. Slow at first. Jane's hand slipped between Maya's thighs, and Maya opened for her. Their bodies pressed close, every point of contact electric. The uniforms lay crumpled on the floor, forgotten.