Girlfriends

I love my work because it puts me between the thighs of women who could stop traffic. There’s nothing forced about it when I’m with Eve. I run my tongue over the neat strip of hair between her legs and she opens for me like it’s second nature. When I pause and glance up, her expression is slack with pleasure—eyes half-closed, mouth parted, a flush rising from her chest to her throat. She tastes clean and faintly sweet, and every slow pass of my tongue makes her hips tilt toward me, asking without words.