Sharing The Bed

Shyla sits on the couch, magazine open, when the phone rings. Samantha’s voice fills her ear—Vegas, right now. Finals loom, yet the invitation wins. She dresses fast and meets her friend at the hotel. Samantha’s first words carry a confession: Sasha Heart is coming too. Shyla freezes. Sasha is a lesbian. The news hangs between them until Samantha leaves to fetch her dress, leaving Shyla alone. The door opens again. Sasha steps inside, dark hair falling past small, natural breasts. She takes the seat beside Shyla, voice easy, smile warm. They trade small stories—music, old movies—until the ice cracks. Sasha suggests a swim. Shyla nods. Sasha pulls her shirt off. Shyla’s breath catches; she retreats to the bedroom, mind racing. Seconds later she calls Sasha in. Words spill: she has never been this close to a woman who likes women. Sasha answers with a kiss. Shyla leans in. Lips part, tongues meet. Sasha’s mouth moves lower, licking the arch of Shyla’s foot, then higher. Shyla’s fingers slip between her own thighs, stroking until she is slick and open. Sasha replaces those fingers with her tongue. They shift. Bodies press, hips grind, wetness spreads. Sasha climbs over Shyla’s face and tells her to keep her eyes open. Shyla looks up, tongue working, until Sasha shudders and comes. Shyla follows moments later, thighs trembling. They lie still, breathing together. Somewhere outside the room Samantha’s key turns in the lock.