Women Seeking Women #35

That morning Linda walked off the grade-school field clutching her phone like it had just shown her her own cunt. Mom and Dad were fifteen feet behind her. She stared at the tiny clip—one she and Danny had sent each other that summer—and felt everything between her legs snap to attention. Her pussy didn’t tingle; it snapped, ready. School was starting in six minutes, she needed to sit down, and the last thing she wanted was another ten-hour slow drip of need soaking her panties. She slid her free hand down the front of her khakis, pressed two knuckles right over the swelling nub of her clit, and gave herself one firm, bratty grind. Cotton rasped; the thin strip of silk underneath was already slick. She swallowed a moan, yanked her fingers back, checked the screen again. Danny’s number waited in the corner like a filthy dare. She typed two words, hit send, slipped the phone into her back pocket and started toward the front doors with slick fingers and zero remorse: “Your place. After.”