Dear Miss Lonesome

Sheena kissed Ailee goodbye, wished her a good day at school, then settled at the desk. The first message in her Love Sage inbox came from Miss Lonesome, a girl crazy for someone already taken. Sheena typed back that Miss Lonesome should test the waters—find out if that heart was ready to walk. Days later Ailee pushed the broom across the kitchen tiles and asked why Sheena’s husband never swept anymore. Sheena offered a quick “We’re fine,” but Ailee’s look lingered, doubtful. Another message. Miss Lonesome wanted permission to break someone else’s relationship. Sheena suggested small signals: a touch, a held glance. Ailee practiced exactly that while they folded laundry—fingers brushing, eyes locked—until Sheena called her on it. Ailee shrugged, blamed the eye-shadow, cheeks blooming pink. The next reply to Miss Lonesome contained a bold question. Hours later Ailee posed a softer version to Sheena, and the answer clicked. Ailee was Miss Lonesome. The crush was her stepmother. Sheena confessed the marriage had gone cold. She whispered thanks for Ailee’s sweetness. Their mouths met, wet and slow. Ailee’s tongue traced Sheena’s nipple, Sheena’s fingers stroked slick folds. They switched, tasted each other deeper, legs trembling. The room filled with soft moans and the scent of shared heat until Miss Lonesome wasn’t lonesome at all.