Backstage with Dorina and Dorothy Black

She stood there in the half-light. Blue trousers hugged her ass. The badge gleamed between her breasts, catching what little light the club offered. Music pulsed, thick and slow. She let her hand drift down, fingers brushing the leather of her belt before they settled lower, deliberate, owning the space between her thighs. A patron watched. She met the stare, spread her legs a fraction wider. Her breath came shallow. The zipper of her jacket slid open, revealing lace stretched tight over hard nipples. She leaned forward across the bar, ass pushed back, and felt the fabric pull snug. A drop of sweat slid down the curve of her spine and vanished beneath her waistband. She licked her lower lip, tasted salt, and smiled to herself as the next song started.