The Photographer

Budapest afternoon. Light cut the river surface like glass. Zazie settled on the bench and watched the slow traffic of people, leaving space for whoever noticed her. Christina did. Tall, brunette, hair smooth against a tailored coat, she walked over with the easy certainty of a woman who picks what she wants. Conversation skipped the weather. Christina asked her about pictures; Zazie gave a little nod and followed the stranger’s car. Inside the apartment the lights stayed low. Christina vanished, returned without the coat or anything else decent, black lace clinging to the full curve of her hips. She didn’t ask permission. Music started. Christina moved in time to the beat, hips rolling, one hand reaching to catch Zazie’s wrist and pull her up. Close heat. Christina pressed, palms sliding under Zazie’s shirt to cup bare breasts, fingers rolling stiff nipples. Down lower, the lace brushed Zazie’s thigh while those same fingers slipped under her panties, found wet folds, stroked. Zazie jerked, broke free. Breath quick, she asked for the camera. Christina picked it up. The lens clicked, slow at first, then steady, while Zazie moved, shirt open, skirt low on her hips. The photos did nothing to stop the heat building between her legs. When Zazie looked up, Christina was already kneeling. She licked Zazie’s cunt like she’d been starving for the taste—slow drags of her tongue over swollen lips, sucking the small clit until it throbbed. Zazie gripped the edge of the table and moaned, louder when fingers pushed inside her, fucking her open. They shifted. Christina on the couch now, thighs spread, Zazie’s mouth between them, lips wrapped around swollen folds, tongue flicking until Christina’s hips bucked. Hands in Zazie’s hair held her there while her taste coated the girl’s tongue. They kept going—Christina bent over the arm of the couch, ass high, Zazie’s fingers buried inside her; then the two of them tangled on the floor, legs scissored, cunts rubbing, slick and frantic until every muscle tightened. Kisses kept landing, mouths open, tongues tasting each other until their breathing slowed.