My Spanish Teacher

Heather stopped by the massage parlor to see her old Spanish teacher Bridgette, now working as a masseuse. Years had passed, but Bridgette offered a free massage anyway—just the two of them catching up. Her strong hands moved over Heather’s skin, practiced and patient, while they traded Spanish phrases. Heather stumbled every few words. Eventually she gave up, grinning into the sheet, and told the truth. She’d spent most of class staring at Bridgette’s full tits and lean body, unable to focus on conjugations. Bridgette paused only long enough to laugh once, low and warm, then climbed onto the table. She took one of Heather’s nipples between her lips, sucking until it peaked, then dragged her tongue in a slow, wet stripe down the center of Heather’s stomach. Her mouth found Heather’s cunt next—open, slick, wanting—and she licked in steady strokes until Heather’s hips jerked and she came hard against Bridgette’s tongue. Heather caught her breath, sat up, and switched their places without asking. She may have forgotten her verbs, but she knew how to make a woman come undone and meant to prove it to the woman who once stood at the front of her class.