Dating Someone New

Lauren and Scarlett sink into the couch, words tumbling over each other as they try to top the other’s story. Lauren leans in first—Alex took her to a tucked-away wine bar, then pressed her up against the tiles in the ladies room, fingers slipping under her dress until the knot in her belly came undone. Scarlett laughs, her turn now. She and her Alex skipped dinner entirely, taking a blanket to the bluff above the reservoir. Under the moon, her dates face stayed buried between her legs, tongue working until Scarlett’s knees shook and the blanket beneath her soaked through. They keep filling in details—scent, taste, the exact feel of her mouth, the same small moan Alex makes when she comes—and the longer they talk, the less the faces in their stories feel different. Alex. Same name. Same curved smile that leaves a damp print behind. The realization lands hot and instant, anger rolling in with it. Fuck her. They both agree, phones already halfway out to block the number, when Scarlett catches the look in her stepmother’s eyes. They’ve compared notes on every hidden place a tongue can reach; why stop now? Lauren slides closer, skirt riding higher on her thigh. Scarlett’s hand meets it, fingers pressing down hard enough to leave the ghost of a mark. Clothes hit the floor in uneven pieces, their mouths finding skin that still smells like someone else’s perfume. Angry laughter slips into low, greedy sighs as they fuck on the couch they just shared stories on, burning the night’s humiliation into a hotter, shared heat. Every stroke, every bite, every slick line drawn across thighs feels like the best kind of revenge—pleasure taken back and doubled, with two people who finally stopped lying to each other.