Dirty talk

Krystal’s phone screen lit up just after midnight. The new girl had written again—short, filthy lines that made nothing up and spared no detail. Krystal showed one to Linda, already knowing how it would land. Linda read it, bit her lower lip, and the blush climbed her throat. Her knees pressed together as a different heat took hold. Another line followed, even dirtier. Linda’s breath hitched, quick and sharp. She reached for Krystal’s wrist without a word, pulse racing under her fingers.