Trying Something New

Charlie walks in after her run, gym shorts clinging damp, coffee in hand. You spot it right away—a neat row of numbers scrawled on the cup. Smirking, you ask who’s got the crush. Charlie laughs under her breath, admits Lilly Bell, the blond from the cafe, slipped her number in a shy scrawl. She’s tempted—says she’s wondered how a girl’s mouth would feel—but told Lilly she’s married. You toss it out there: you don’t mind if she plays. She narrows her eyes, thinks you’re testing her. You assure her, straight-faced. You really don’t. Relief flickers, then heat. “Still feels wrong if you’re not there,” she says. Her grin tilts. “Unless… you’re in the room, watching.” Heat tightens low in your gut. You call it hot as hell, she taps out the invite. Three days, three restless nights. Then Lilly shows—tight jeans, fresh perfume. Charlie lays it out plain: a lifelong curiosity, first girl, your blessing. Lilly bites her lip and agrees. Bedroom door shuts. Charlie’s already tugging Lilly’s shirt off, lips wet, breathing quick, and you take the front-row seat, pulse hammering, as every slick movement plays out for you alone.