Backstage for February 2010

Two young girls slip into the empty dressing room. The blonde tugs at her zipper while the brunette watches, then moves closer to help. The zipper slides down and the dress pools at her feet. They stand in front of the mirror, bare skin against bare skin, each tracing the lines of the other with slow fingers. No lens is watching them. They take their time. The blonde runs her hands over the brunette’s breasts, lifting, squeezing. The brunette slips two fingers between the blonde’s thighs and smiles at the soft gasp that follows. They trade kisses that grow wetter, deeper, their bodies pressed tight to the vanity counter. Each stroke, each touch is just for them—slow, unhurried, exactly how they like it.