Love in St. Petersburg

Winter bites through St. Petersburg. You pass a window and stop cold. Inside, two young women move like they've forgotten the city exists. The brunette pins the redhead to the wall, kissing hard. Wet lips meet wet lips. They grind against each other, skirts riding up, thighs slick. The redhead arches back, gasping, as the brunette slides two fingers between her legs and works them deep. Both girls are tight and trembling, hips rolling in rhythm. The brunette drops to her knees, tongue out, licking slow circles until the redhead moans loud enough to reach the street. They switch. The redhead buries her face between the brunette's thighs and doesn't come up for air. Fingers, tongues, flushed skin. They fuck like they mean it. Young. Hungry. Lesbian. They finish each other off and keep going, bodies slick, breath fogging the glass. You don't walk away. No one would.