The Faces of Alice: Part One

Alice's scared. She should be wearing her dress already. Dina stands there in that crisp black suit like she owns every headline she's made this month. Alice doesn't answer the question. She just kisses her—hard, quick, hungry kisses that keep Dina from thinking about photos or cameras or the word queer printed next to her name. Dina's lips taste like mint and trouble. Alice keeps going until the suit jacket's on the floor. One more pull and the bra's gone, puffy nipples out in the air, pink and stiff. Dina's breath catches. Alice drops her jeans next, then the underwear, steps free, spreads out across the sheets, shaved cunt on full display. She watches Dina's eyes drop between her legs. Dina's thumb finds her clit fast, rubs once, twice, and Alice moans—low, wet, immediate. She drags it out, makes herself last, teeth sunk into her bottom lip. Then she flips it, tongue buried in Dina's pussy, slow licks that stretch time, tasting every twitch. Can't stay there forever. Dina comes hard, legs shaking, fist in Alice's hair. She pants, asks if Alice is ready. Alice answers by pulling her back down, legs tangled, mouth at her throat. Dina settles over her, cunt to cunt, rocking slow at first, then grinding harder, slick lips sliding, wet sounds filling the room. Alice gasps, meets every thrust. They ride the rhythm until it breaks—until the come hits, sudden and bright, and Alice is still shaking under her, no dress, no prom, no way out.