Open My Chakras

Victoria isn't like other women who give rubdowns. She rinses the table with sage, mutters her thanks to whatever listens, then holds the door for Serene. The nurse drags herself in still wearing scrubs and the smell of antiseptic, dead on her feet after ten straight hours around the sick. Victoria sees it right away in the gray slump of her shoulders: Serene gives and keeps giving, and there's nothing left. Needs refilling. She nods to the mat. Oil snaps in Victoria's palm. The first strokes feel clinical, steady pressure down the spine. Then the heat between her own legs climbs. Serene's skin gives way under her thumbs, warm, flushed, a little sticky from the day's sweat. Victoria's fingers trace lower. Instead of working the knots, she opens them. One nudge and Serene's thighs part. Victoria drops, mouth already wet, tongue flat against the tender bead between the folds. One slow lick, another faster. Serene gasps, hips tilting up on instinct. The room fills with the wet sound of lips and tongue. Victoria slides two fingers inside, pumps once, twice. Serene arches; her cunt grips tight. Moans tumble out of her until she sounds broken open. Oil slick and spit mix on Victoria's chin. She keeps licking, flicks hard, curls her fingers against the ridged spot that makes Serene quake. By the time she stands and strips, Serene reaches for her without thinking. They meet skin to skin, Victoria on top, grinding, legs scissoring together so every movement drags slick folds over swollen flesh. Breath in ragged gasps. Sweat rolls between them. The table creaks. They fuck like they can trade what the day took, Serene clinging to each rough thrust of Victoria's hips until her second orgasm knocks the exhaustion straight out of her bones. Later the air is heavy with sweat and sex. Serene lies boneless, eyes half-closed. Color back in her cheeks, energy crackling under the skin like live wire. Victoria wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist and smiles once, small, satisfied, feral.