Bus Stops #02

Naomi stood outside the dressing room door, fingers twitching at her sides. Inside, the other girls talked low, traded secrets in glances and gestures. She listened. Fingers sliding up inner thighs. Tongues flicking fast then slow. India loved it when she held her down by the wrists and sucked at her throat hard enough to leave marks that showed above her collar. The girls said don’t be shy. Press. Twist. Listen for the catch in her breath. Naomi went back to their room. India lay sprawled on the sheets. Naomi climbed over her, pinned her wrists above her head, and licked into her mouth. India moaned and arched up, and Naomi kept going—biting at her nipple, sliding two fingers deep, curling them just right until India shook and cursed her name.