Post-Flight Tribbulance

They drop their bags by the door. Scarlett steps out of her heels; Gizelle kicks off hers. A long flight. Too long. Both of them still buzzing from those first-class passengers—long legs, silk blouses, laughter that carried right down the aisle. “God, that brunette in 2A,” Gizelle says, eyes half-lidded. Her fingers trace the line of Scarlett’s uniform blouse. “Did you see the way she leaned over when she asked for another drink?” Scarlett doesn’t answer right away. She’s busy with Gizelle’s top button, then the next, until the fabric parts. Gizelle’s breasts—full, heavy, natural—spill forward, the dark hair around her nipples catching the low light. Scarlett palms one, squeezes, feels the warm weight shift against her hand. Gizelle’s breath hitches. “Seatbelt sign’s on now,” Scarlett murmurs, wicked. She slides two fingers beneath Gizelle’s skirt, finds the damp strip of her panties and pushes them aside. Gizelle is slick already, curls soft and thick beneath Scarlett’s fingertips. One slow circle over her clit and Gizelle’s hips jerk forward. They don’t bother with the bedroom. Scarlett backs her against the hallway wall, sinks to her knees, tugs the panties down. Gizelle’s scent hits her—warm, musky. She parts the curls with her tongue, licks deep, then slips two fingers inside, curling them just so. Gizelle’s thighs tremble; her hand knots in Scarlett’s dark hair, pulling her closer. The hallway fills with wet sounds, low moans, the slap of Gizelle’s ass against the plaster each time Scarlett thrusts. Scarlett stands, hikes her own skirt, guides Gizelle’s hand between her legs. They trade places—Gizelle’s fingers now working fast circles over Scarlett’s clit while Scarlett sucks one of Gizelle’s nipples into her mouth, teeth grazing, tongue flicking. Sweat beads at Gizelle’s collarbone. Scarlett licks it away. The captain’s light stays on. Neither of them cares to turn it off.