Backstage of A special occassion

She flew in without fanfare. Hungary pulled at her like an old lover, and one call was all it took to open the door. Inside, the lights ran low, the heat came slow. Two bodies answered the quiet—Rita, ash-blonde hair loose down her back, and the darker girl waiting, skin still warm from the street. They met in a kiss that started careful and turned greedy. Fingers traced ribs, then slipped lower. Rita dropped to her knees first, tongue working in steady circles until the brunette’s thighs shook. Then the brunette returned the favor, lips parting her, tasting, sucking harder when Rita’s breath broke. The rhythm built, hips lifting, nails digging. No rush to finish, just heat passing back and forth until both went still, flushed and spent, the night still young around them.