Romancing Remotely

Jayden opens the door in shorts and an old tee, bare legs, Victoria’s mouth goes dry on sight. Former coworker. Late-night calls and accidental eye contact over cubicle walls, all of it still hanging between them. “Sorry you had to drag this far just for me,” Jayden says, voice warm. Victoria pushes past the nerves. “I don’t mind the drive.” They go down the hall, lights low, Jayden’s bedroom half-lit by a laptop screen. Victoria takes a knee, slots the USB, fingers busy, black hair falling over one eye. Jayden perches on the mattress behind her, watching Victoria’s shoulders, breathing in her perfume, nipples peaking against cotton. File swap, reboot, green flag on screen—done. The USB clatters off the desk. Both women reach. Fingers brush, linger, the air shifts. Victoria’s hand slides up Jayden’s forearm, then her lips take over. The kiss bites, wet, hungry, too long coming. Jayden tugs Victoria’s belt free, pushes her jeans down; she isn’t wearing anything under them. Victoria laughs, low, flips Jayden onto the sheets, yanks the tee up until bare tits spill out. She palms one, sucks the tight peak until Jayden arches, curses. Soft teasing turns frantic fast. Victoria kicks off the rest of her clothes, drops between Jayden’s knees, tongue flicking, jaw working, taking her time. Jayden shudders, palms Victoria’s hair, grinds, almost polite for half a breath—then loses it, thighs tight around that face. She slides back up, kisses Jayden sloppy, lets Jayden taste herself, they tumble into that laughing scramble of too much skin, too much friction. Victoria rides Jayden’s thigh, soaked, bucking, moans against Jayden’s mouth when she comes. Jayden rolls them, fingers sinking, both wrists involved now, two or three deep, thumb teasing, curling, watching the flush rise on Victoria’s chest until her hips slam once and go still. They stay close, breathing. Sweat-slicked, mouths tender now, but neither one pulling away.