Such is luck

Aja and Alisa roll dice to decide who peels off another layer. When the points land even, they drop the game. Naked already, they lean in. Mouths meet first, soft and slow. Then tongues trace skin—collarbone, breast, the inside of a thigh—wherever it makes the other catch her breath. Feet find each other too, toes brushing, sliding, pressing; a light squeeze here, a playful rub there. Every touch is easy and unhurried, the mood playful, and the moment still wide open.