Dancefloor delights

The lights have dimmed but the girls keep moving, bare shoulders and tight dresses sliding over sweat-slick skin. One hip presses between another’s thighs; fingertips trace sweat at the small of a back, slide lower until they disappear under the thin hem. They turn, sigh, laugh low in each other’s ears. When the bass finally dies, Doris sinks to her knees right there on the empty floor, arm raised. Larissa spreads for her, and Doris pushes past the wet silk of panties, fist curling as she drives in wrist-deep.