Mouth To Mouth

Kristen Scott grips the phone tighter, back snapping straight. That smile is trouble—bright, stretched too wide for the nerves burning in her stomach. She tells Nickey she’s nervous, CPR technique still clumsy under her hands. Nickey’s voice comes back warm: she’s been practicing. Offers to help. Kristen bites the inside of her lip, says the poolside is empty, parents gone for the day. They settle on an hour and a half. Kristen swings open the gate. Both of them still wear their regular clothes, bikini strings tied secret underneath. Nickey takes one look at the water, lifts an eyebrow, asks if the parents know the real plan—mouth-to-mouth, bodies close. Kristen brushes that worry off quick; they’re adults now, both eighteen. Nickey nods once, lets the moment drop. Shirts slide off, shorts hit the concrete. Nickey’s breasts push against the bright fabric, small and tight, nipples showing hard. Kristen’s eyes hitch there for a heartbeat too long before she strips too. Nickey lowers herself onto the towel. Kristen climbs over her, knees planted on either side. They stall a second, awkward breathing caught between them. Then Kristen leans in, lips pressed to lips, and starts the count. One push, then another, hands sliding over bare skin. The kisses stretch past the count. On the third set Nickey gives a short laugh right into Kristen’s mouth, says it feels more like a real kiss than anything medical. Kristen flushes, tries to apologize. Nickey cuts it off, tells her she liked it, want more. Their mouths meet again, harder now, tongues hot, teeth catching on lips. Kristen pulls back just enough to nod toward the sliding door. Inside. Now.