Backstage of After party

The party sucked. Just old ladies and dull chatter. So she split. Came straight home still buzzing. Not tired at all. Alone in her room, the perfect way to spend the night—lingerie still on, no company needed. She slid her hand down, fingers pressing through the lace. Soft, slow strokes at first. Then firmer. The fabric grew damp under her touch. Blonde hair spilled across the pillow, legs spread wider, breath catching with every slow circle over her clit. The brunette standing in the doorway watched, quiet. Neither girl said a word. The first one kept going, hips rocking now, fingers working quicker, the wet sounds getting louder. The second girl stepped closer, slipped off her dress, lingerie underneath matching the first. She reached down between her own legs too, matching the rhythm. Both of them there, touching, breathing hard, watching each other come undone.