Lust From a Distance - Stella Smut Director Showcase

Chanel Camryn sits on a cold couch, leg bouncing, while her girlfriend Scarlett Alexis chases stages across the country. Scarlett's a star in the making, but every mile apart carves another hole in Chanel. Therapy was supposed to patch the damage; instead she shows up late, dodges every question her therapist Gal Ritchie fires at her. The walls stay up—until Gal mentions the way Chanel fucks strangers in bathrooms and parks. That cracks something open. Chanel admits she's been risking exposure on purpose, fingering herself on subway cars, coming hard just to feel anything that isn't the hollow left by Scarlett's empty seat at dinner. It isn't desire; it's damage control. Gal tries to steer toward something warm: "Tell me a good memory." Chanel's eyes lose focus. Suddenly she's twelve months back, curled behind Scarlett on a piano bench. The melody fades as Chanel's fingers wander up Scarlett's thigh, testing, teasing, daring. Scarlett keeps playing until Chanel slides off the bench, kneels, and buries her tongue between her girlfriend's legs. Scarlett's hands falter on the keys, notes collapse into gasps, but she tries to keep time. Chanel works harder—licking, sucking, fingers gripping tight—until Scarlett's concentration finally snaps and she comes shaking, the last chord lost in a broken moan. They tumble together right there on the bench, mouths hungry, bodies forgetting the distance that hasn't happened yet. Gal's voice drags her back: "Chanel?" The room is still the same lifeless office; the only proof any of it was real lives behind her eyelids, already fading.