House of Erotica

closer. All she could do was pulse and want and pray for more

They had first met several years before, crowded into a changing cubicle together in Amanda’s graduation year, the woman immaculate in a translucent waist slip and matching brassiere, her tiny breasts firm and white like poached plovers’ eggs, the skin on her long slender arms golden like sun on water, thick honey-brown hair worn shoulder-length and cut into a razor-like fringe with subtle highlights.