Leave The Light On?

Lily opens the door, Alexia standing there like sin wrapped in innocence, suitcase in hand for her first overnight. Lily beams, says she'll make this night unforgettable. Hours later the credits roll on their third movie. Lily snaps the DVD tray shut, declares bedtime. Alexia hesitates, asks about the hallway light. Lily bites her lip, says sorry, bulb blew last week. Panic flickers across Alexia's face before she bites it back with a crooked smile. "We don't have to stop, though," she says. "My first real sleepover—I want the whole damn thing." Lily misses the waver in her voice, nods, brightens. They brush each other's hair in long, slow strokes, fingers catching on silk strands, trading laughs that verge on moans. Glossy magazine pages turn between them, both girls leaning close enough to share breath. Later, the fortune-telling game spits out answers: Alexia inherits a mansion, drives an ice-cream truck for kicks. She laughs, high, jittery, begs to stay up forever. Lily shakes her head, firm, turns out the light. Darkness hits like a slap. Alexia swallows hard, voice small: "I...I'm scared of the dark at home, hallway light's always on." Lily's hand finds hers under the covers, warm, sorry, asking what else might help. "Cuddle?" Alexia whispers. Lily pulls her close. Body heat and silk shorts sliding against thighs, breathing synced. The quiet starts to thrum. Alexia shifts, nipples tight against thin cotton, heat pooling between her legs from the press of Lily's hips. She turns her face into Lily's neck, lips brushing skin on purpose now. Lily answers with a soft bite to her earlobe. They kiss deep, tongues hungry, hands roaming, peeling cotton off smooth curves until nothing separates them. Lips travel south, wet tongues parting slick folds, soft moans echoing in the dark. Alexia's first slumber party ends with thighs shaking, mouths slick, the sheets twisted like evidence.