Side by Side

Sophie walked through the front door two days after the wedding still smelling like rice and lilies. Charlotte met her in the hallway wearing only cutoff sweatpants and a black tank that left nothing to imagination. Heat flashed between them like a camera lens catching sunlight. Charlotte showed her the narrow house room by room. When they reached the bedroom the single bed glared back at them. That night they climbed under the same sheet after the family dinner. The room stayed warm. Charlotte let out a slow breath and spoke. After I come I like to rest a minute, that’s all. The words hung low and husky. Sophie swallowed and kept still, but the sound of Charlotte shifting, breathing, starting to touch herself cracked something open. Her own hand slid down without permission. Their elbows bumped. Charlotte turned onto her side, eyes half lidded, watching. The sheet slipped. Fingers moved faster, wet and deliberate, the rhythm syncing, then the last rational inch of space disappeared as Charlotte reached over and guided Sophie’s hand between her own legs.