Girlcore | S1 E3 | The Third Way

Jane's just trying to grab some shut-eye when her damn phone buzzes. Veronica's barking orders from the other end, demanding she haul ass to the office right this second. Screw her boyfriend's gripes—she's already yanking on yesterday's clothes and out the door. Knocks. Door swings open. Veronica's already there, staring her down like she committed a felony. Sit. Type. But Jane's keys are getting smashed and the mistakes pile up fast. Veronica clocks Jane's gym-rat get-up and laughs like it's a crime scene. Pretty face, sure, but trash bag couture won't cut it here. She grabs Jane's wrist and drags her into the side room, pointing at the dress laid out like evidence. Jane tries to duck out for privacy. Big mistake. Veronica's voice drops, low and final—no bathroom, no stall, nothing. Strip right here. Veronica drops onto the couch, eyes sharp, greedy, soaking in every inch of skin that shows. Jane peels everything off, feeling that stare crawl over her tits, down her stomach, between her legs. Veronica's on her feet again, yanks the tie from Jane's ponytail so her hair tumbles free. Then she's dusting powder over Jane's cheeks, brushing color across her lips, painting nails the color of sin. Slides those sky-high heels onto Jane's feet like she's wrapping a present. Perfect packaging, check. Now sit that pretty ass back down and finish the damn reports. Typing starts again, but every time Jane glances up Veronica's staring straight at her, hungry, done pretending this is just another workday. Overtime, both kinds, heat already charging the air between them.