Scissors, paper, stone

She pressed her palm to the wooden table. It was her, all these evenings when the two of them sat knee-to-knee and played like bored schoolgirls. Scissors cut paper, paper covered stone, stone crushed scissors. The rules were simple. When the game was over there was the silence that belonged to the winner. Tonight, Jennifer had won three times. A thin elastic band slipped from Emma’s hair as she bent to take off her blouse. The fabric fell behind her. Emma pulled down her skirt next. The cotton brushed the curve of her hip and pooled at her ankles. Her white briefs were warm from wear. Jennifer reached across and hooked her thumb through the waistband, yanked them down with one sharp tug. Bare skin met cool air. Emma flushed but kept her hands at her sides. Jennifer spread the panties and brought them to her nose, inhaling the sharp, ripe scent. She smiled. That smell belonged to her now. Then she pressed two fingers between Emma’s thighs, sliding upward until the touch met slick heat. Emma shivered. Jennifer curled, the pads of her fingertips circling the soft hood. She stayed slow. Emma’s knees gave, but Jennifer braced her open with one firm hand at the hip. Every wet sound was loud in the quiet room. Jennifer leaned closer, lips grazing an ear, and whispered the forfeit for the last round. “Tonight,” she said, “you come on my fingers until I get bored.”