Lesbian liaison

I met Mandy at some party a couple months back. We got talking. By the end of the night, we had already worked out where we'd meet up next and when. Now I tell my parents she comes over to help me with my algebra. They like that I’m studying. What she actually does is lie on her back with her thighs on my shoulders, explaining the difference between cosine and cosec in a whisper while my tongue slides up and down between her lips. When she comes, her voice breaks like static and she pulls my hair tight enough that my scalp burns. Sometimes we keep every light in the room on so I can watch her skin flush. She keeps her ankle socks on the whole time, perched at the end of my narrow bed like punctuation. I ask her to keep them pulled high. One night she wore a summer dress with no underwear and bent over the back of the sofa. I was inside her before the front door shut behind us. We try new positions on purpose, collect the good ones like trading cards. Last week I fucked her standing, her back against the kitchen wall, legs crossed behind me while she drank cold orange juice straight from the carton. She made these tiny hiccups every time I pushed deeper, ending them with a pleased chuckle I can still hear long after she’s gone home. My parents knock before entering now. They know a closed bedroom door is part of math. They never ask why her voice rises so sweetly through the old drywall. She sticks a pencil behind her ear to keep up appearances. It stays there even when she’s on top, riding me so slow and tight I count each heartbeat until she lets go.