Backstage of A rainy afternoon

Rain streaks the windows while Sophie Moone leans over Francesca on the sofa. Laughter slips into breathy gasps as Sophie’s hand slides under the silk hem of her dress and finds warm skin. The room smells of damp air and perfume. Francesca arches when Sophie’s fingers slip inside, slow then deeper, finding that soaked heat that makes them both smile and curse. Rain taps harder; Sophie moves her wrist in tight circles, thumb firm on the swollen nub, until Francesca’s legs shake and she bites Sophie’s lip. Nothing polished about the way they clutch each other—only the wet, explicit rhythm of Sophie’s hand and the hungry sound of Francesca’s moans, proof that the rain will stay forgotten.