Police interrogation

Officer Sorana knocks. The door opens. A girl stands in a thin silk robe with nothing underneath. Sorana steps inside and the girl closes the door behind her. Sorana’s eyes move to the coffee table, where cash sits in neat piles beside a phone open to messages that read like appointments. She doesn’t need to look longer. The girl steps forward, lets the robe fall open, and her small breasts lift with every breath. Her nipples are already tight. She slides closer, reaches for Sorana’s utility belt with both hands, unfastens it, and places it on the table. Then she drops to her knees. Her fingers move to Sorana’s fly, ease the zipper down, and hook her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. The officer’s scent is warm, already wet. The girl leans in and licks a slow stripe over Sorana’s clit through the fabric, just once. She pulls the fabric aside, spreads the officer’s lips with two fingers, and presses her tongue flat against the slick heat beneath. Sorana exhales through her teeth, one hand tangled in the girl’s hair, the other braced against the door frame while the open fly, the belt, the evidence, and the cash all wait untouched behind them.