Not As Straight As You Think You Are

Indica and Sera settle in for movie night, snacks in hand, legs tangled on the couch. Every jump scare makes Indica jolt and clutch her neck. By the third time she flinches she’s wincing. Sera watches, then offers, “C’mere.” Indica smirks, “A straight girl giving a lesbian a neck rub? Brave.” Sera just rolls her eyes and starts rubbing slow, firm circles over tense shoulders. The pressure feels good, but Sera’s hands start lingering. Fingers brush Indica’s collarbone, slide down too low, then trail back up. A thumb grazes the top of her spine; another moment and it skates across the swell of her breast, “accidental” and electric. Indica’s heart kicks. She grabs Sera’s wrists and plants them over both tits. Sera stares. “What the fuck are you doing?” Indica’s face burns. “You were coming on to me. All night. I felt it.” Sera starts to say no, then stops. She replays her own touches, tasting every second, and a hunger wakes up behind her eyes. “Okay,” she says, low. “Show me.” Indica doesn’t hesitate. Mouths crash, hands scramble for shirts, jeans, underwear. Clothes pile on the floor. Sera pushes Indica back, spreads her open, and drags her tongue up soaked heat for the first time. Flavor explodes across her tastebuds. She groans, dives back in, hooked, licking deeper, chasing every whimper. Indica had read her right from the start.