Intimacy Issues

Luna Lain steps into Lauren Phillips' massage parlor still carrying that knot between her shoulder blades. She strips, lays face-down, and Lauren's palms go to work on the knots while digging into the other ones Luna won't name. "Talk," Lauren says. Luna tells her she flinches every time she and Sarah touch in public. Sarah is older, sharper, and people stare. Luna just wants to stop bracing for judgment long enough to feel what Sarah does to her body. The door clicks. Sarah slips in, barefoot, clothes already off. Lauren catches her eye, smirks, then asks Luna if she'd let Sarah finish the massage if she were here. Luna answers without hesitation. Sarah takes over, hands darker, grip surer, sliding south until fingers part Luna's folds. Luna jerks, startled, realizes the hands aren't Lauren's anymore. Sarah leans over, lips brushing her ear. "Nobody's watching us here," she whispers, "so stop acting like they are." Luna exhales hard. Lauren joins, mouth on Luna's breast, and whatever was tight finally gives. They roll, tangle, split and suck and grind until the room reeks of sweat and relief. Lauren never says a word about revolution; she just lets them fuck the fear out in wet, greedy silence.