Something To Look At

Carmen scrolls through the comments and feels sick. One photo, eyes half-shut, her whole face ruined. She keeps refreshing, chasing any scrap of approval. Brandi watches from the doorway, quiet, patient, letting the girl spiral before she steps closer. She takes the phone, studies the screen, then sets it aside with a little shrug. Carmen’s shoulders drop. She wants to be wanted—likes mean everything right now. Brandi gathers Carmen’s hair, tilts her face up. A kiss, unhurried, then another lower, until her lips close over one small nipple, sucking it gently into warmth. Carmen shivers, surprised by how good it feels. Brandi moves lower, parting her thighs, tracing every inch with a tongue that knows exactly where to press. Carmen’s hips lift before she can stop them. Brandi shows her how to return each touch, how to curl fingers inside and keep the rhythm steady, until Carmen catches the knack and does it back, precise and greedy. Sweat slicks their skin; soft sounds fill the room—quick breaths, wet friction, sudden gasps. Later Carmen’s phone buzzes with notifications. Over three hundred likes. The sting from earlier fades. Brandi stays close, fingers drawing lazy circles on Carmen’s stomach, while the numbers climb and Carmen learns what it really takes to feel chosen.