Backstage of Something else

Two girls linger in the dim light of the dressing room. Mya slips the straps of her dress off her shoulders, letting the fabric fall around her hips. Jo watches from the mirror, then turns. Her fingers trace the curve of Mya's bare breast, slow and certain. They lean into each other, mouths meeting, soft then deep. Mya's hand slides down Jo's stomach, pressing between her thighs. Jo's breath catches. She pushes her hips forward. Mya drops to her knees, tongue flicking across the thin strip of dark hair above Jo's sex, then lower, tasting her. Jo grips the edge of the vanity, knuckles pale. Her head tips back. Mya moans against her, the vibration traveling through Jo's body. They switch places. Jo's mouth finds Mya's nipple, sucking until it hardens. Fingers slip inside her. Mya gasps, thighs trembling. They move together on the narrow couch, skin against skin, legs tangled. Each touch leaves a wet trail. Their hips roll in rhythm, finding the pace that makes both of them tremble. The room fills with quiet sounds, the rustle of bodies, the wet press of tongues, the sharp intake of breath when one finds the spot that undoes the other.