Chapter 12: Aftercare and the Ledger
The room had gone back to normal, mostly. The bed was back in its old corner, facing the door, and the walls were still bare where the tape had pulled paint off in little rectangles. Nobody had talked about putting anything back up. On Thursday Bessie came home walking like her hips were loose in their sockets, and Megan had made her tell everything twice, once slow.
Three days later it was just a Tuesday again. Leslie folded her clothes, Megan scrolled her phone with one leg out of the covers, and Bessie brushed her hair a hundred strokes like always. The lamp clicked off. Dark.
Silence, ten minutes of it, the pipes ticking.
"Guys," Bessie said into the ceiling. "Processing session."
Megan's sheets rustled. "It's past midnight."
"That's when they work best." Bessie's voice was steady but she'd turned to lie on her side, facing the room. "I have a topic. I've had it since Thursday and the rule's the rule, so."
"Go," Leslie said.
"Okay. My question is this." Bessie took a breath. "What's the first thing you ever rubbed your pussy on? Like actually humped. A pillow, a bed frame, whatever. How did it feel, and what made you start doing it in the first place?"
Quiet. Then Megan started laughing, low and helpless. "God. That takes me back."
"Rule's the rule," Leslie said. "Bessie first, since it's her topic."
"Fine." Bessie's voice dropped. "Freshman year. My first year on the team, actually, the one before Priya. Coach paired me with this girl for passing drills, and she was gorgeous, I mean stupid gorgeous, and I spent forty minutes watching her. Watching her chest move under her suit when she reached. Her legs when she kicked off the wall. Her whole body doing the thing." Her breath went ragged in the dark. "I got home from practice and I couldn't think. I lay down on my bed and I pushed my pillow between my legs and I rubbed my cunt on it. Just ground down on it, over and over, my suit still on."
"Did you come?" Megan asked.
"No. That's the whole thing." Bessie laughed, embarrassed. "I got so close. My whole body was shaking and I felt something enormous building and it scared me, so I stopped. It was the first time I'd ever felt like that and I didn't know what finishing was. I lay there soaked and thought, oh no, oh no, something's wrong with me. Took me another month to figure out I just had to keep going."
"Poor baby," Megan said softly. "You needed an instructor."
"Leslie. Your turn."
"Freshman year too, actually, first semester here." Leslie's voice came flat and sure out of her corner. "Two girls from my floor and me were 'practicing.' We had dates lined up with some fraternity boys that weekend and we decided we needed to rehearse French kissing so we wouldn't look like idiots. So we're in Dana's room, lights low, taking turns kissing each other. Making out for real by the end of it."
"Just for the boys," Megan said.
"That's what we told ourselves. Anyway, one of them, Marcy, was more experienced, and at some point she goes, you know what feels insane, and she takes this stuffed bear off Dana's bed. Rolls it up, shoves it between her legs and the floor, and humps it through her panties right in front of us. Showed me how to do it, how to fold it so the snout pressed right up against my clit through the cotton." Leslie's breath audibly changed. "I'd touched myself before but never like that. Never with my whole body driving it. I rode that bear until my panties were drenched through and I came in maybe three minutes, biting Dana's pillow so they wouldn't hear me."
"And the boys?"
"We were an hour late and neither of us cared. I bought my own bear that weekend. It's still at my parents' house."
"God," Bessie whispered.
"Okay, Megan," Leslie said. "You've been quiet."
"I'm getting there, I'm building it up." Megan's voice had that grin in it. "So here's the thing. My first time humping something, it wasn't a thing. It was a girl. Live girl, my age, right there."
"Tell it," Bessie said.
"She lived across the hall from me here, sophomore year. We'd watch porn together sometimes, don't ask me how that started, it just did, two bored girls and a laptop. One night we're watching and a lesbian video comes up. Two women, no toys, nothing but each other, and they're humping, like scissored up, pussies pressed together, grinding their clits against each other till they're both shaking." Megan's sheets rustled, her body shifting. "My friend goes dead quiet next to me and then says, we should try that. And I said yes so fast I embarrassed myself."
"How did you start?" Bessie asked.
"With our underwear on. Very scientific. We sat facing each other on her bed, legs open, and hooked one leg under the other's so we could press in, and we just started rocking. Through the cotton, both of us. And it was nice, it was warm, but I could feel everything muted and I was already soaked, my panties were a lost cause, and I looked down and there was a wet spot spreading on the crotch and she had one too and I just said, take them off."
"And she did."
"She yanked them off and her bra too, and I did mine, and then there was nothing between us. My pussy against her pussy. Her clit sliding on mine. Her nipples so hard they were dragging on my tits with every roll." Megan's voice had gone low and rough, and Bessie could hear it now, the small wet sound of her hand moving under her blanket. "Skin on skin, Bessie. Every grind was slick and hot and I could feel her heartbeat down there. We grabbed hands so we could pull against each other and we humped like animals until we both came, loudly, in her bed, and then lay there panting and she said, wanna go again, and we did."
"Rule one," Leslie said, and there was a sound from her corner too, fabric and breath.
"So that's why I started," Megan said, "and why I never really stopped wanting it. There's nothing like it. I've thought about that night probably every week since."
"I have a follow-up question," Bessie said, "but the rule means I have to say why I'm asking." Her voice shook. "I've been wet this whole conversation. Since Leslie said snout."
"Obviously," Megan said.
"And I brought a pillow to my bed last week after Thursday and I haven't had the nerve."
Silence. Then Megan sat up in the dark.
"Okay, new proposal," she said. "Nobody finishes alone. Nobody's quiet. Those are the standing rules. So Bessie, get the pillow."
Leslie laughed once, low. "Or," she said, "we could skip the props entirely. I've got a perfectly good thigh."
"Take the offer, Bessie," Megan said. "She's been doing yoga for nothing if you don't."
Bessie's heart was hammering so hard she could hear it in her ears. "You're sure?"
"Rule one," Leslie said. "I'm offering because I want it. Have since you said pillow."
Bessie threw her blanket off. The dorm was black except for the faint streetlight stripe through the window, and she crossed the cold floor on shaking legs, naked, and knelt by Leslie's bed. Leslie had pushed her covers down. She was lying on her side in her cotton panties, and she stretched one leg out straight, the muscle of her thigh a hard ridge in the dark.
"Straddle it," Leslie said. "Face me. Put your knee over."
Bessie swung her leg over and settled down, and her bare cunt met Leslie's thigh and she gasped out loud at the contact. Hot, wet, her lips spreading open over firm muscle. She was so slick that the first tiny rock made an obscene sound in the quiet room.
"Oh my God," she whispered.
"That's it," Leslie said, hands coming up to grip her hips. "Feel how strong it is. Ride it."
Bessie started moving. Small at first, dragging herself forward along the flat of Leslie's thigh, the fat of her inner thigh yielding, then grinding back, and the head of her clit caught on Leslie's skin every time and sparks shot up her stomach. She was dripping. She could feel it smearing down the side of Leslie's leg, a slick stripe, and she flushed all over.
"I'm making a mess on you," she breathed.
"That's the point, sweetheart," Megan said from her own bed. She had her blanket shoved aside and her hand was already under her panties, unhurried. "Don't be shy. Soak her."
Leslie's fingers dug into Bessie's hips and set a rhythm, pulling her forward and pushing her back, making her grind in long, heavy strokes. The muscle under her flexed. Bessie cried out, high and sharp, and clapped a hand over her own mouth.
"No," Leslie said, and pulled the hand away, and pressed it down to her own breast instead, holding it there. "Nobody's quiet. That's your rule. You taught us that one."
"Nobody's quiet," Bessie repeated, and stopped fighting it. She humped Leslie's thigh properly then, hips snapping, her cunt sliding wet and open up the full length of the muscle and back down, clit dragging raw and electric over skin every stroke. "Fuck, fuck, it's so hard, your leg is so hard, I can feel it right on my clit."
"Been waiting all conversation," Leslie said, voice rough. Her own hips had started a small motion against nothing, her ass working under Bessie's knee. "Since the snout, like you said. Watching you talk about humping that bear made me want to give you the real thing."
"Close," Bessie gasped. The announcement came out of her on reflex, three Thursdays of habit. "I'm close already, God, I'm sorry, I'm already so close."
"Don't apologize," Megan said. She'd kicked her covers fully off now, legs open in her white cotton panties, fingers pressing slow circles into the wet spot darkening the crotch. "Watch her, Leslie. She's gorgeous when she's riding. Look at those legs."
Bessie's thighs were burning, soccer muscles flexing with every drive of her hips, and she could hear herself, the wet slap of her cunt on Leslie's leg filling the dark room louder than the pipes. Leslie slid one hand from her hip up her ribs and closed it over her breast, thumb flicking her nipple, and Bessie's whole body lurched.
"Can I go over?" she begged. "Please, can I come on your leg?"
"Ask the room," Leslie said. "I'm just the equipment."
"Please," Bessie said, to the darkness, to both of them, her hips never slowing, "please, please let me come on Leslie's thigh, I'm right there, I'm right there."
"Yes," Megan said. "Loudly."
Leslie flexed her thigh under her, a sudden hard swell of muscle pressing up into her clit, and Bessie's orgasm hit her like a wave to the back of the head. She screamed it out, no hand, no pillow, her voice cracking off the bare walls, hips grinding down hard and shuddering through the spasms, her cunt pulsing against Leslie's skin, fresh slick gushing out over the muscle and down to Leslie's ankle. Leslie held her hips through all of it, guiding, slowing her, milking every grind out of her until Bessie collapsed forward onto her chest, gasping.
"Good girl," Leslie murmured into her hair.
Bessie lay there shaking, her cunt still twitching against the wet heat of Leslie's thigh. Then she felt it. Leslie's hips were moving for real now, a slow grind up off the mattress, her breath gone ragged against Bessie's ear.
"You didn't," Bessie whispered. "You didn't come."
"No," Leslie admitted. "Rule two, remember."
Bessie lifted her head. In the dark she could just make out Leslie's face, flushed, lips parted. She slid down Leslie's body, straddling her leg again on the way, and settled her weight lower, one thigh pressed against Leslie's soaked cotton panties.
"Push my knee up," Bessie said. "You said the thigh thing works."
"God," Megan said from across the room, her fingers speeding up, "the soccer girl figured it out. Do it, Les."
Leslie grabbed Bessie's calf and dragged it up until Bessie's knee pressed hard against her, and she humped up into it with a groan that came from her chest. Bessie felt the soaked cotton, the swollen heat of her through it, and pushed back, making her thigh a thing to ride. Leslie fucked up against it, fast, shameless, the bed springs creaking.
"Harder," Leslie gasped. "Press down, yes, like that, right on my clit."
Bessie leaned her weight into it, pinning her leg, and Leslie's grinding turned ragged and desperate, her fingers digging into Bessie's ass, pulling herself up against the muscle over and over.
"I'm close," Leslie announced, voice breaking. "I'm close, don't stop, don't stop."
"I've got you," Bessie said, and pressed down harder, and Leslie came with a low continuous moan that rose into a whimper, hips jerking, her cunt pulsing against Bessie's knee, wet heat spreading through the cotton and onto Bessie's skin.
From the other bed Megan's voice went high and sharp, and then she was coming too, alone in the dark with her own hand, crying out for both of them, her chair-side view having cost her nothing and gotten her everything.
Silence. Three girls breathing hard in the black room.
"Okay," Megan said finally, loose and slow. "New standing rule. The thigh is communal property."
"It's my thigh," Leslie said, muffled, still flat on her back.
"You offered it."
Bessie laughed, breathless, and rolled off Leslie onto the narrow strip of bed beside her, their wet legs pressed together. "For the record," she said to the ceiling, "the pillow can stay in my drawer forever. That was better."
"For the record," Leslie said, turning her head, and Bessie felt her smile against her shoulder, "next time you're doing it facing the mirror. I want to watch your face while you ride."
"Then stop talking about next time," Megan said, and the mattress creaked as she sat up. "Because I've got a better one right now."
Bessie lifted her head off Leslie's shoulder. "Better than what I just did?"
"Better than everything." Megan's voice came out of the dark, low and certain, and there was the wet sound of her fingers leaving her panties. "We're expanding the experiment. Get on the floor. On your stomach."
"On the floor."
"Rug's right there. Ass in the air. And bring your pillow, put it under your hips. I want that ass up where I can reach it."
Silence. Then Leslie laughed, breathless, into the dark. "Oh, this I have to see."
Bessie slid off the bed. Her legs were still shaky, thighs slick and cooling, and she crossed to the rug beside her own bed, the thin one the janitors had left under the window. She dragged her pillow off the mattress and pushed it under her hips, then lay down flat, cheek to the carpet, and hesitated.
"All the way?" she asked.
"Ass up," Megan said. "Like you're presenting. You play soccer, you know the stretch. Do it."
Bessie drew her knees up under her and pushed her hips back and up, ass lifting into the stripe of streetlight, the pillow wedged under her pelvis. She felt obscene and exposed, face down on the carpet, cunt soaked and open between her spread thighs, everything she had aimed at the room.
Behind her she heard Megan's feet hit the floor. Then the pause. She could feel it, being looked at, the way you feel the sun find your back.
"God," Megan said, and her voice had changed, gone thick. "You know how long I've wanted this. Since move-in day. First thing I ever thought when I watched you haul your duffel up those stairs was, look at those legs. Look at that ass. I used to lie in my bed at night listening to Leslie touch herself and I'd rub my pussy thinking about you doing squats in that little practice kit. I'd come so hard my teeth hurt."
"You never said," Bessie breathed into the rug.
"Rule's the rule. I'm saying it now." Megan knelt down behind her, and Bessie felt the heat of her before anything else. "And now I'm going to fuck it. That's what this is, Bessie. I'm going to put my pussy on that perfect ass and grind on it until I come all over you."
"Please," Bessie said, and it came out wrecked already.
Megan swung one leg over and settled in behind her, and then there was contact, the bare wet heat of Megan's cunt pressing against the top of Bessie's thigh, right under the curve of her ass. Bessie jolted. Megan was drenched, slicker than Bessie had been, and the first slow drag of her lips along Bessie's skin made an obscene sound in the quiet room.
"Fuck," Bessie gasped.
"That's right." Megan's hands gripped her hips and she started to move, rocking forward and back, her clit dragging through the groove between Bessie's thigh and ass cheek, her whole weight driving down. "Feel that? That's three years of wanting it, sweetheart. That's every night I watched you walk to the bathroom in your towel."
She fucked against her in long strokes, sliding her soaked slit up the back of Bessie's thigh, over the swell of her ass, and Bessie moaned into the carpet, hips pushing back to meet her. Every grind dragged Megan's clit over raw skin and Bessie's cunt lips through the pillow beneath her.
Then Megan stopped. Drew her hand back. The slap landed on Bessie's right cheek, sharp, loud, the sting blooming hot.
Bessie cried out and pushed her ass higher.
"Oh, you liked that." Megan spanked the other cheek, harder. "I've dreamed about this ass for three years and it jiggles exactly like I imagined. God. Look at it shaking."
Her hips started again, faster, and between strokes her hand kept coming down, alternating cheeks, and then her fingers knotted in Bessie's hair at the crown and pulled, and Bessie's spine arched and her mouth fell open against the rug.
"You're going to be loud for me," Megan said, breath ragged now. "Whose pussy is this, Bessie?"
"Yours." The word tore out of her, no shame left.
"Whose ass?"
"Yours, fuck, yours."
"Whose legs? These perfect legs I've been fucking myself over since August?"
"Yours! All of it, all of it's yours, please."
"Please what?" Megan pulled her hair harder, drove her hips in, her clit hammering over the slick stripe she'd painted up Bessie's ass. "Say it. Beg me to fuck you."
"Please fuck me," Bessie begged, humping the pillow under her hips, her clit crushing into it with every thrust of Megan's weight. "Please, Megan, please keep grinding on me, use my ass, come on me, I want to feel it, I want to feel you come all over me, please, please, I'm begging."
Behind her Megan made a sound, low and broken, her rhythm going ragged, and Bessie felt hands on her hair tighten for the killing pull.
And then weight shifted. Another pair of knees hit the rug.
Leslie's hands came around Megan's throat from behind, light, fingers resting on the hollow of it, and Megan's whole body went still against Bessie's back.
"Keep going," Leslie said quietly. "I've got her. Don't stop just because you got a hand on you."
"Leslie," Megan gasped, and her hips stuttered against Bessie's ass.
"Look at you." Leslie's mouth was close to her ear, her fingers loose, barely a hold, a suggestion of pressure. "Three years of wanting her legs and now you've got your cunt on her and you're shaking. You want to come, don't you."
"Yes."
"Then beg me to squeeze." Leslie's thumbs pressed a millimeter firmer at the sides of her throat. "You know what I like. You know how I come. Say it."
Megan ground down hard into Bessie, thighs quaking, her soaked slit smearing wet down the back of Bessie's leg. "Squeeze," she choked out. "Please, Les, squeeze my throat, please, I need it, I need it while I fuck her, please."
Leslie's hands closed, careful and exact, just enough pressure to make Megan's breath come high and thin, and Megan broke.
She fucked Bessie's ass in short brutal strokes, hair yanked, throat held, and her orgasm hit her grinding, a loud broken cry punched out of her constricted throat into something almost silent and then a moan that filled the whole room. Her cunt gushed against Bessie's skin, hot and plentiful, slick running down Bessie's thigh and dripping onto the rug, and she rode it out shuddering, hips jerking, Leslie's hands easing her through it with her forehead dropped against the back of Bessie's shoulder.
Bessie was still humping the pillow, right at the edge and stuck there, ass throbbing from the slaps.
"Don't you dare stop on her account," Megan panted against her shoulder blade. Leslie laughed low, and then Bessie felt Megan's hand slide under her hips off the pillow, fingers finding her clit directly, rubbing fast and rough. "Come for me. Come on the floor with my come all over your ass. Now."
Bessie went over screaming into the carpet, her orgasm slamming through her, hips bucking back against Megan's hand, Megan's fingers relentless until she collapsed flat, boneless, cheek to the rug, both girls' wetness smeared across her ass and thighs.
For a while nobody moved. Three bodies breathing hard on the floor.
"Okay," Leslie said finally, sitting back on her heels. "New rule. The floor counts."
Megan, still draped over Bessie's back, lifted her head and grinned into the dark. "For the record, Chen, I want this every Thursday. Front row or on it, I'm not picky."
Megan rolled off Bessie's back at last, landing on the rug beside her with a thump, both of them soaked and gleaming in the streetlight stripe. Bessie stayed flat, cheek to the carpet, ass still throbbing in twin handprints, cum and slick smeared down the backs of her thighs.
"Stay there," Megan said. "Don't move. I'm not done looking at you."
"You came on me," Bessie mumbled into the rug. "Twice tonight. You're definitely done."
"Wrong." Megan propped herself up on an elbow, and Bessie could feel her eyes crawling over her, the ass, the spread of her knees, the wet shine of everything. "I got mine. Now I want the rest. Rule's the rule, Chen. I want Priya."
Bessie went stiff. "You got the whole shed thing Thursday. Word for word. You rotated the bed yourself."
"That was the performance." Megan's hand landed on Bessie's ass cheek, resting in the wet, squeezing the sting back to life. "This is the vault. What do you actually do, in your head, when you're alone and it's two a.m. and the shower's running loud enough so nobody hears? What's the version you've never said out loud to anybody?"
Leslie had sat up against her own bedframe, legs folded, and Bessie could feel her watching too. "She's got you," Leslie said. "Honesty rule."
Bessie's face burned into the carpet. Her hips shifted without permission, the pillow still under them, her clit dragging cotton.
"There's a version," she admitted.
"Of course there's a version." Megan spanked her, light, a punctuation mark. "Out with it. Every detail or I start over with the slaps."
"God. Okay." Bessie's voice came out cracked. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, ass still presented, because moving felt like breaking a rule she hadn't been given yet. "It's not the shed. The shed's the headline. The real one is quieter. It's after."
"After what?"
"After she's done with me in the shed. Team's gone. Van's pulled away. She's locked the door." Bessie's breath went ragged. "And she makes me get on my knees on the floor mats and clean her up. With my mouth. Her fingers, her thighs, whatever's soaked through her suit. She holds the back of my head in the gloves and just watches me do it and tells me I'm earning my spot on the team. And when I'm done she says good girl, Chen, and that's it. That's the part that makes me come hardest. Not the eating out. The good girl."
Silence in the dark room. Bessie's ears rang with it.
"Oh, that's so much better than the shed," Megan said, delighted, thick-voiced. "You don't want to be ruined. You want to be graded."
"I want to be kept," Bessie whispered. "I said it in the countdown. You all heard it."
"We heard it." Leslie's voice came softer than Megan's, but not soft. "Say the rest. What does she wear? In the after version."
"The gloves. Always the gloves. Nothing else. Suit peeled down to her waist and her tits out and she doesn't let me touch them. Hands behind my back." Bessie was grinding down on the pillow now, tiny guilty rocks, and Megan's palm followed her, resting on the small of her back, pinning the motion half-stopped. "She cups my jaw in the neoprene and tilts my face up and says, look at me while you do it. And I do. And my chin's all wet and she calls me her best defender and I come untouched, just from kneeling."
Megan's breath had gone audible. Bessie heard the wet sound of her hand sliding back between her own legs, no shame in it at all.
"Keep going. Don't stop because I'm touching myself, that's a compliment." Megan's fingers were moving fast, sloppy. "What's her voice like? Pitch it."
"Low. Like when she's talking to the defense, not screaming. The quiet voice." Bessie's hips were rocking full now, the pillow dragging under her soaked clit, her announcement rising out of her on reflex. "Close. God, I'm close, listening to myself say this, I'm close."
"Stop humping," Megan said, and pulled the pillow clean out from under her hips, and Bessie whined at the cold air on her wet, empty cunt, knees still bent, ass up. "Not yet. Finish the fantasy first. Rule's the rule. What happens after good girl?"
"Nothing." Bessie's voice broke. "That's the whole point. Nothing happens after. She just leaves me there on the mats and turns the light off and I don't get to move until she's gone. Because I'm hers and she decides when I'm done being used. That's it. That's the deepest thing I have. Can I please hump something now?"
"Get up here," Leslie said.
Bessie crawled on shaking arms to Leslie's bed and Leslie pulled her up by the wrist, and then it was different, Leslie sitting against the headboard with her legs open and Bessie dragged into her lap, back to her chest, Leslie's arm barreling across her collarbones. Leslie's other hand slid down her stomach and cupped her soaked cunt, possessive, unmoving.
"Megan," Leslie said over Bessie's shoulder. "Ask her the last one."
"Last one," Megan said, kneeling up on the rug, one hand working between her thighs, eyes locked on Bessie's spread ones. "The after-after. Past the good girl, past the dark shed. What's the thing you've never even said in your own head?"
"There's no, there's nothing past, ah," Leslie's fingers spread her lips open, cool air on the exposed clit, "there's nothing."
"Honesty rule, Bessie," Leslie murmured, and rolled her clit once, slow, and Bessie's whole body arched off her chest.
"There's one," Bessie sobbed. "Fine. Fine. I want Kiara to find out. I want Kiara to walk in on it. The shed, the kneeling, all of it, and I want Priya to make me look at her while she does and tell Kiara, this is what she does for me, you can have a turn if you earn one. I want them negotiating over me. There. That's it. That's everything. Nobody knows that one, not even me until right now."
"Fuck," Megan said, and her hand sped up, and Leslie's fingers went to work on Bessie in earnest, two plunging into her soaked cunt, heel of the hand grinding her clit, and Bessie announced it screaming, "close, I'm close, please, please let me."
"Come," Leslie said into her ear. "All of you at once. Megan, now."
Megan came kneeling on the rug with her head thrown back, a sharp broken cry, and Bessie went with her, clamping down on Leslie's fingers, gushing over Leslie's hand and her own thighs, screaming the name out loud without choosing it.
"Kiara," Megan panted, still shuddering. "Well. That's a Thursday waiting to happen."
"Don't," Bessie gasped, collapsing back against Leslie's shoulder, boneless. "Don't you dare text her."
"Rule's the rule," Leslie said quietly, her wet hand resting on Bessie's hip. "You said it out loud. Now it exists."
"There's one," Bessie sobbed. "Fine. Fine. I want Jackie to find out. I want Jackie to walk in on it. The shed, the kneeling, all of it, and I want Priya to make me look at her while she does and tell Jackie, this is what she does for me, you can have a turn if you earn one. I want them negotiating over me. There. That's it. That's everything. Nobody knows that one, not even me until right now."
"Fuck," Megan said, and her hand sped up, and Leslie's fingers went to work on Bessie in earnest, two plunging into her soaked cunt, heel of the hand grinding her clit, and Bessie announced it screaming, "close, I'm close, please, please let me."
"Come," Leslie said into her ear. "All of you at once. Megan, now."
Megan came kneeling on the rug with her head thrown back, a sharp broken cry, and Bessie went with her, clamping down on Leslie's fingers, gushing over Leslie's hand and her own thighs, screaming the name out loud without choosing it.
"Jackie," Megan panted, still shuddering. "Well. That's a Thursday waiting to happen. Your back line partner. The quiet voice."
"Don't," Bessie gasped, collapsing back against Leslie's shoulder, boneless. "Don't you dare text her."
"Rule's the rule," Leslie said quietly, her wet hand resting on Bessie's hip. "You said it out loud. Now it exists."