When girls go bad

Claire traced her tongue along Paloma's neck, tasting salt. Brittany's fingers fumbled the clasp on her own bra, pushing the lace aside, until her palm found the weight she wanted. It happened fast. Three bodies in a single bed, the room thick with sweat. Claire watched as Brittany's fist pressed forward, the tight ring of muscle giving way with a slow, wet sound. Paloma's breath caught. The lamp threw their shadows against the wall, slow and relentless.