Fate Suggests

Night before the sorority vote, Lucy's hands shake. Julia stares at the flickering candles, lifts the Ouija board like a dare. They slide fingertips across the board, asking about tomorrow, but the pointer drifts lower, spelling cock and wet instead of pledge. Julia laughs once, low in her throat, then pulls Lucy across the velvet spread of the sheets. Their mouths crash together. Lucy tastes like fear and lip gloss. Julia shoves a knee between Lucy's thighs, rocks hard, grinding denim against denim until both girls gasp. Julia flips her onto her back, fingers already unsnapping buttons, peeling soaked lace aside. She sucks the inside of Lucy's thigh, leaves marks that the candles throw back like bruises. Lucy pulls Julia’s hair, guiding her mouth to the heat between her legs. The board tips on the floor. The planchette spins. Julia pushes two fingers deep, thumb circling Lucy’s swollen clit in tight, filthy circles. Lucy arches, pants, curses. Julia drags her own shirt off, straddles Lucy’s face, lowers until slick lips meet Lucy’s tongue. Lucy laps hard, lips shining, while Julia rocks against her mouth, one hand gripping the headboard, the other sliding down to finger herself above Lucy’s desperate licks. Both girls come hard—Julia moaning, grinding slow against Lucy’s tongue, Lucy clenching around Julia’s fingers, the board forgotten, the night heavy with the smell of sex, and tomorrow is already gone.