Caterer To The Rescue

Caterer Cassie slips into an empty room at the party, needing a breather, and finds Dora already there, staring at her phone like it just kicked her in the teeth. Cassie asks if she’s okay. Dora blurts that her girlfriend just dumped her—by text. No call. No warning. Just cold blue letters on a glowing screen. Cassie shakes her head. “Anyone who’d dump a woman who looks like you—over a screen—is both a loser and a coward.” Dora glances up, eyes wet but sharp. Gratitude melts into something hotter. Cassie’s compliment lingers, thickens. She steps closer. The air tightens. Dora’s finger slides off the phone. Cassie sets her tray down. Knees brush. Breaths catch. Dora’s lip quirks like she already knows where this is heading. Then it happens—quick, hungry. Cassie’s mouth finds Dora’s. Hands slip under fabric. Fabric drops. Moans hit low, secret, urgent. Two women who barely know each other but need this exact heat take the night hostage, turning the quiet room into the only place worth being. The rest of the party keeps rattling on outside while Cassie tongues Dora deeper, grips her tighter, fingers her until Dora shatters against the locked door and drags Cassie down with her. Sweat. Teeth. Slick skin. They fuck like no one’s coming to check.