Dating Someone New

Lauren Phillips and Scarlett Mae stretched out on the couch like cats in heat, coffee mugs going cold while they traded dirty play-by-plays. Lauren leaned in first, voice low, explaining how Alex took her to the rooftop after the restaurant closed, bent her over the railing, and tongue-fucked her until her knees gave out. Scarlett smirked, then described her own "date" with Alex: tongue ring cold against Lauren's clit's heat in the parked Lexus, sucking her off in long, greedy strokes until the windows fogged and Lauren sounded like she might break. That Lauren and Alex part weren't the same story. They caught each other's eye. The grip on the mugs tightened. They started piecing it together aloud: the same bartender slipping them drinks on the house, same corner booth, same tattoo on her hip, the nickname "Red". Lauren's mouth went dry. Scarlett's face went pink with fury. The name "Alex" slid out at the exact same second. They both swore hard enough to crack the silence. Lauren lit a cigarette she rarely touched, Scarlett's knuckles went white against the denim she gripped. The pact was instant and absolute: neither woman would call, text, or finger that cheating bitch again. But the stories they'd spilled still tasted like honey and filth on the air. The way Lauren described the bite marks Alex liked to leave on her inner thigh? That was something Scarlett knew firsthand. They sat there, electric, almost laughing through their teeth. Then Lauren scooted closer. Scarlett didn't flinch. They shut the windows first. The overhead lights died. Lauren pulled Scarlett in by the waist, kissed her slow and filthy, tasting revenge like the smoke on her breath. Before long their tits were out, mouths moving from lips to nipples, thumbs dragging wetness up between parted thighs like they were mapping new ground. Cocks had been left on the nightstand, and tonight they would go wet and bare and deep with the one person Alex never deserved to touch.