Tell Me Everything

Angela White came home just after sunrise, heels dangling from her fingers. April O'Neil sat propped against the headboard and knew before a single word left Angela's mouth. "Where were you?" she asked. Angela gave the lines she'd rehearsed, but April had been her wife long enough to hear the lie buried in every syllable. April kept her voice level. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Guilt got there first. Angela stepped out of the dress and told her the rest. "The girls hired strippers," she said. April shook her head. Angela went on, voice low. "I let one give me a lap dance. Then another." April's fingers slipped under the sheet. The wet sound of her moving between her legs was soft, but Angela caught it. "They brought out a double-ended dildo," Angela continued, stepping nearer. "One of them climbed over me on the couch. We fucked on it until she came all over my stomach." April's breathing sharpened. Angela crawled onto the bed, close enough to smell April's skin. "She had this trick of twisting her hips while she pushed in deeper. I could feel every inch sliding past the middle, pressing us together." April's eyes stayed half-lidded. Her wrist worked faster under the sheet. Angela leaned in, lips at her ear. "I came twice before the sun came up," she whispered. "And the whole time I kept thinking about how I'd tell you." April's free hand reached for Angela's wrist and pulled her down. She pressed Angela's palm against the heat between her thighs. "You came home," April breathed. "That's enough."