Far Away From The City

Tiffany Tatum wanted space. The city had worn her out, left her brain crawling with static. She packed a bag, took a train out past the lights, looking for quiet and air and nothing to do but write. A friend had pointed her toward the place, said she’d find something there. Peace, maybe. Something else too, it turns out. A girl answered the door—brunette, easy grin, eyes moving a little too slow down Tiffany’s legs. They didn’t shake hands. Just the look between them, quick and thick, the kind you feel under the ribs. She signed the book and walked upstairs. The room smelled clean, had decent light. She sat and opened the screen, tried to warm her fingers on the keys. Ten minutes in, a voice from the door called to lunch. The brunette stood there barefoot in nothing but a white apron tied at her waist, the fabric stretched tight over her tits and bare hips showing beneath the hem. She smiled like nothing was off, then turned and went back to the desk like she’d just offered wine. Tiffany stared. Heat flashed between her legs before she had the sense to look away. She ate alone after that, but her cunt stayed slick, and the rest of the afternoon passed in stolen glances. There was nothing standard about the place, and that suited her just fine. Later the girl came to clean in her uniform: black skirt, sheer top, no bra underneath. She dusted the shelves first, bending slow, letting Tiffany watch the curve of her ass beneath the hem. Then she turned, sank to her knees on the carpet, and pressed her mouth to the inside of Tiffany’s thigh. Tongue hot, slow, sliding higher. Tiffany’s skirt came up easy. Her panties came down faster. They moved straight to the bed. Amirah peeled off the uniform and spread her, licked long stripes up Tiffany’s slit until her hips jerked, then slid two fingers inside while she sucked her clit. Tiffany came hard, fingers tangled tight in the sheets. She pulled the other girl up by the hair, kissed her messy, tasting herself. They traded turns—Amirah straddling her face, grinding down while Tiffany fucked her tongue in deep, Amirah moaning into the wall, coming with her thighs shaking. They rolled again and again, mouths and hands everywhere, thighs slapping, sheets soaked, breath loud in the dark. By morning Tiffany knew one thing: this trip was never going to end on the page.