Relax And Be Entertained

Eve hadn't seen Cassandra in months. They usually brushed past each other in the same dance class, nothing more. Then Eve booked a massage and watched the name light up her screen—Cassandra. She almost laughed. Today had a sense of being written for her. They slipped into a private room. Eve peeled her clothes off, climbed onto the table, stomach down, still warm from the afternoon sun through the blinds. Cassandra warmed oil between her palms and pressed down, each stroke working deeper, slower. They talked. A breakup here. A rent hike there. Cassandra’s fingers slid lower, tracing the dip above Eve’s tailbone, and Eve felt the first liquid rush between her legs. She flipped, sat up, and reached for Cassandra’s shirt. Cassandra held still, letting the fabric slide away, breasts bared, nipples already stiff. Eve drew her closer and kissed her—slow at first, then hungrier, open-mouthed. Oil slicked their skin. Eve guided her onto the table, kissed down Cassandra’s belly, parted her thighs, and sealed her mouth around her clit. She licked with practiced patience, one hand pinning Cassandra’s hips while two fingers curved inside and tapped the spot that made her gasp. Cassandra came hard, thighs trembling, a short broken cry escaping before she bit it back. Eve sat up, breathless, smiling crookedly. “I paid for this,” she said, easing onto her back again. “You owe me service.” Cassandra needed no more prompting. She settled between Eve’s legs, two slick fingers gliding in and curling, thumb circling in tight, relentless loops. The pressure built fast—Eve’s mouth fell open, nothing coming out, just a held breath—and then it broke, a rush of heat and shaking, wetness coating Cassandra’s wrist as she kept working her through the last pulsing aftershocks.