Backstage of Forever friends

Dorina's hair catches the light every time she turns. Our evenings often turn physical. Sometimes the whole day begins with my fingers buried in that blonde length, the strands twisted tight while my other hand works lower. She makes this small sound when I kiss the back of her neck, something between a sigh and a moan. We know each other well enough now that she reaches for me without asking permission. Her moods shift with her body; one moment she leans against me in silence, the next her nails leave marks down my back. I love feeling how she yields when she lets me in. The way her hair falls across her breasts afterward, messy and silver-gilt in the half-light.