Waiting is the Hardest

Carter's hunting for the woman who gave her up. She made the call, registered, now she's glued to the phone, leg bouncing, waiting. When the message finally pops, she kills the line with her friend mid-sentence. Erica Lauren. She sent her number. One deep breath and Carter punches it in. Rings once, twice. "Hello." Carter's voice cracks. Introduces herself anyway. Erica sounds excited—like she already knew this might happen. They pick the clinic, cheap vinyl chairs, fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Results take an hour. Erica leans in, voice low. Maybe they get to know each other while they wait. A joke turns filthy fast. "If we're not related, we should fuck." Carter laughs because she's scared and turned on at the same time. Then the doctor steps out, clipboard in hand. Not blood. Not family. Disappointment hits like cold water—then it burns off. Carter grabs Erica's wrist. "Guess we can have that date now." Erica drags her into a kiss before she finishes the sentence. Tongues, teeth, hands already under shirts. Erica's mouth finds Carter's nipple, sucks slow, tongue making tight wet circles till Carter moans loud enough to echo off the tile. Then Carter drops, shoves Erica's thighs open, tongue driving in, licking up every slick inch. Two strangers who missed their mother but found each other's cunts instead, grinding against each other like they're the only thing that still makes sense.