Don't Mind Us

Whitney tries to finish her round. Spencer strides in, plants herself between the screen and the couch, and asks if she can claim the TV later. Whitney mutters she’s already online with her friends and won’t give it up. Spencer pushes; Whitney gives ground only on one condition—she keeps playing while they use the couch. Deal struck, Spencer leaves. Hours later the door opens again. Spencer returns with Mocha, darker curls loose, smaller breasts bare under an open shirt. They drop onto the cushions right beside Whitney and start kissing hard. Hands slip under waistbands, fabric peels away, skin meets skin. A thong snaps; a bra sails and lands on Whitney’s controller. Her character dies on-screen. Whitney pulls off her headset, cheeks flushed. “You said you’d stay out of my way.” Spencer only grins and pats the empty space between them. “Plenty of room. Join us and everybody wins.” Whitney hesitates, then laughs once, low. Same story, different roommate. She tosses the controller aside, slides closer, and lets Spencer’s mouth find hers while Mocha’s fingers trace the inside of her thigh. The three of them sink into the cushions, bodies shifting, mouths open, breath mingling, the game forgotten on the muted screen.