She thought there’d be an awkward air; the tension of a dirty secret. She thought there’d be naughty glances and nothing more. How wrong she was.
The girl came bounding in: full of life – a bottle of prosecco in hand. Within five minutes it was clear there were memories filled with lust in both the girls’ heads. There was no intention to hide what had happened; they talked openly about desire, pubic hair choices and that night.
The troubles with her man were escalating, she confided. She didn’t want to sleep with him on his birthday because of what had happened only a few hours previously.
She thinks about it often. ‘So do I’, admitted the other girl.
They both agreed their orgasms had altered somewhat as a consequence. More intense and also more visual.
In a cloak of gin and under a hood of the familiar kitchen, they played with each other’s hair and kissed each other’s necks.
And then they went upstairs.
She thought there’d be an awkward air; the tension of a dirty secret.
How wrong she was.