Morning rush

She is always racing against the clock, yet she carves out minutes for the shower. The water runs hot. Steam rises. She steps in, blonde hair slicked back, skin already flushed. Her hand moves between her legs without ceremony. Fingers slide over her clit in tight circles while the other palm presses against the tiles. Her breath hitches, sharp and quick. She angles her hips, rocking against her own touch, letting the pressure build until her knees threaten to give. A low moan slips past her teeth as the orgasm hits—fast, hard, exactly what she needs. Legs trembling, she catches her breath, rinses off, and reaches for the towel. Day one, tension gone.