Touch - Close Contact

Vera thinks about those afternoons with Babs. She had no idea how much she’d crave the small things later—the heat of another body, the taste left on her tongue. At the bar, they’d shut the blinds and push the tables aside. Babs would drop to her knees first, tongue flat against Vera’s clit, working her open until Vera’s hips bucked against her mouth. Then they switched, Vera spreading Babs wide on the polished wood, licking slow circles until Babs shuddered. When they needed more, they took the double-ended toy from the drawer behind the register. They knelt facing each other, sliding onto it until their thighs met, rocking hard enough to shake the counter. Sweat gathered at Vera’s lower back; Babs’s nails left red lines on her shoulders. Neither of them stopped until fingers replaced the toy, circling and pressing until they came, loud and shaking, in the middle of the sunlit room.