Pure white

She runs her palms over the white lace stretched across her hips. Tanned skin shows through every gap in the fabric like warm coffee against cream. She slides a finger beneath one stocking and snaps it softly against her thigh, the snap crisp in the quiet room. The matching bra cups her breasts just enough to lift them, not enough to hide the points pressing against the sheer cups. She eases back on the bed, knees open, and reaches for the slim chrome speculum resting beside her. The metal gleams like polished silver against her fingers. She brings it to her mouth first, wetting the rounded bills with slow strokes of her tongue, then lowers it between her thighs. One hand spreads the lace aside. The other guides the instrument inside her, easing it open with the same care a girl might give to unwrapping a gift. Metal clicks gently, parting her. She watches the bright white nylon on her legs flex as she bends her knees higher, the contrast of dark skin and pale fabric catching the light. Her breath comes shorter now. She turns the speculum a fraction, adjusting the angle until she feels the stretch exactly where she wants it, and a soft sound escapes her throat.