Note: This is Episode 4 of an ongoing story.
For Episodes 1--3, check my profile.
The assistant returned without a word. She glanced at both women, then spoke calmly. "Claudia, please come with me. Heather, you'll please wait here."
Claudia stood. Her legs felt steady, but there was heat pooling in her stomach. Heather gave her a small nod, almost a smile.
The hallway was quiet. No music, no conversation. Only the sound of their footsteps and the faint hum of distant water--likely a pool outside.
The assistant opened a door, motioned Claudia inside, and closed it after her.
The room was softly lit, with smooth, pale walls and a single armchair. A large, floor-length mirror hung on the opposite wall. Claudia noticed it immediately. Oddly dark. Reflective, but not fully. Her skin prickled.
She almost smiled. Someone was watching. Maybe with notes. Maybe with something else in hand. And strangely, the thought didn't scare her. It excited her.
On a low couch sat a man and a woman.
The woman spoke first. "Hello. I'm Livia."
The man added, "And I'm Marc."
Both appeared to be in their late twenties.
Livia was tall and willowy, with olive-toned skin and dark chestnut hair pinned up in a soft, effortless knot. Her face was refined--high cheekbones, full lips, and dark eyes framed by bold brows. Her robe, loose and silky, clung in places and revealed in others, falling just enough to show small, firm breasts.
Marc, by contrast, was broader--early swimmer's build, defined but not exaggerated. His jaw was square, clean-shaven, with calm brown eyes. He wore only soft gray lounge pants slung low on his hips. His upper body was bare, muscular, but the quiet tension in his posture made him seem grounded.
There was an ease between them. A practiced rhythm.
Claudia stepped forward. Her heart raced. She paused halfway, just a few steps from the couch. The scene--two strangers, beautiful, calm, waiting--should have felt unreal.
But then, something shifted. She didn't want to be swept into this. She wanted to direct. The thought struck her like a flash: not to be taken, but to orchestrate. To see pleasure unfold under her hand.
It wasn't the first time she'd kissed a woman--there'd been a brief, slightly drunk moment in her first semester--but this felt different. Intentional.
She glanced at both of them, then moved closer. As she sat between them--not too close--her eyes wandered briefly back to the mirror. She caught her own reflection. Composed. Curious. Already wet.
Livia's eyes moved over her dress. "That color suits you," she said with a quiet smile.
