The music in the VIP room didn’t throb like it did outside. It pulsed, like a heartbeat that gave life to the night. Inside, about twenty-five people moved through the haze of soft light and curated luxury. They were Miami’s real trendsetters. Not the ones chasing clout through Instagram reels. These were the ones who didn’t need to be followed to be known. They were famous for being famous, infamous for knowing exactly where to be. They never announced themselves. They didn’t have to. They ran the nightlife in this city, and everyone in Miami knew it.
To outsiders, they mostly looked like a solid group. But every circle had its cracks. Some girls were closer than others. Some guys barely tolerated each other. Most of the drama came and went, changing with the week. Nothing was worth a full-on feud. Getting iced out of the group meant losing everything. That fear kept most spats quiet and short.
Of all the shifting dynamics, the tension between Charlotte and Lana never changed. They smiled in the same photos, stood at the same bars, but there was always something off in the air when they were near. People noticed. And over time, word of it leaked beyond the VIP room and into the public. The internet buzzed with theories. A whole corner of TikTok was dedicated to the frenemy feud. Maybe it was over a guy. Maybe one got more attention. No one really knew.
The truth might have been simpler. People said they looked alike, that they had the same hair. Even the tabloids and nightlife blogs got them mixed up. In a scene where how you looked and who you were could make or break you, being mistaken for someone else meant you didn’t stand out. That stung. And neither of them wanted to blink first. So they kept it going, a quiet rivalry no one talked about but everyone tiptoed around.
Lana sat with her legs crossed at the ankle, one hand around the stem of a glass that had been refilled twice without her asking.
Her first time in the VIP room came a year ago, and it felt like a dream until it wasn’t. She got in through a friend, someone she thought she was close with, until the guy her friend was into glanced at Lana and said she looked like “that other bitch who hangs out here.” Lana didn’t know who he meant, only that her friend laughed too hard at her expense and disappeared with him a few minutes later.
She waited for what seemed like too long, then went looking. Lana found them in a shadowed corner near a private booth, barely lit. The guy had her friend pinned to the wall, her skirt bunched in one hand while his other hand moved between her thighs. Two fingers were already inside her, his mouth was on her neck, leaving wet marks as she moaned against the dark. A small group of men stood nearby, watching. Waiting. The price of entry, it seemed, was getting passed around by aspiring day-traders high on coke.
When it ended, her friend didn’t apologize. She just straightened her dress, smoothed her hair, and said, “There’s another group in back. They’re waiting for you.”
Lana stared at her in disbelief.
“No thanks.”
“You ungrateful bitch. Without me, you’re nothing.”
Lana’s voice didn’t break. “I’d rather be nothing than get finger-fucked by a lineup of frat boys who think having a finance degree is a personality trait.”
She was collecting her things, getting ready to walk out, when Bianca appeared. Lipstick smeared like war paint, heels unbuckled, dress slipping off one shoulder. Drunk and radiant. She grabbed Lana’s arm with both hands, grinning like they were old friends.
“You’re new,” she slurred, seizing Lana’s wrist. “Come meet my people.”
Lana had followed without thinking. That was the night she learned how fast things could turn in a place like this, how the bottom could fall out, only for the floor to catch you again.
In the present, her eyes drifting over the room.
Charlotte stood near the bar, one shoulder tilted inward as Bianca looped an arm through hers. They matched in mood and energy, though Charlotte held herself with more control, less drunk, more grounded. Her black top caught the light each time she moved, low-cut and snug above the waist. The hem stopped just above a pair of leather pants that clung to her hips and thighs like a second skin. Her mouth was glossy. Her posture was loose, confident, and impossible not to be drawn to.
She hadn’t looked at Lana once. Not directly. But Lana felt it anyway. She knew she was guilty of the same. They were always watching each other, taking mental notes. Looking for weak spots. Waiting for a line that might cut deeper if it landed close to something true, then packaging it in a compliment no one could call out.
Behind her, on a white sofa, two girls who were still new to the circle and hadn’t fully earned their place leaned in to talk over the music. They didn’t notice how close Lana was to them. Their voices were quiet, but not careful.
“Did you see what Charlotte was wearing?” one of them asked, smirking.
“That outfit was to one-up Lana. I guarantee it.”
Lana stood slowly and turned toward them. Both girls froze when they saw her face.
“It looks good on her,” Lana said. “A little… base for my taste. But it suits someone like her.”
She looked around the room, unsure where to go. Then Bianca caught her eye from the bar and waved her over, still linked at the arm with Charlotte. Lana started in their direction.
“I’ll tell her how much you like her outfit,” she said as a parting shot. “Maybe you can find something similar at whatever thrift store you pulled those looks from.”
It wasn’t in Lana’s nature to be cruel. Her reputation was for being nice, maybe even too nice. But newcomers didn’t get to take shots at the mainstays. Lana knew the rules. Even if it meant siding with Charlotte, she wasn’t about to let that slide.
As Lana approached, Charlotte smiled, gave a small nod, and quietly excused herself from Bianca’s company.
When she reached the bar, Bianca handed her a drink without asking. It was bright and ridiculous, overloaded with fruit, skewered by a plastic sword and crowned with a paper umbrella.
“You and Charlotte need to get over it already,” Bianca shouted, the way drunk girls do when they think they’re being subtle. “I swear to God, it’s like you’re allergic to being in the same room.”
“We’re fine,” Lana said. “A lot of people make a big deal out of nothing.”
“It’s my birthday, and if I could have one gift, it’d be for my two hottest friends to stop hating each other. You’re so much alike.”
Bianca meant it as a compliment, but Lana hated hearing it.
“I don’t have a problem with her.”
“Well, good,” Bianca said, lifting her chin. “Because she’s coming back over.”
Within seconds, Charlotte rejoined the conversation.
“Marcos has something for you,” Charlotte said, nodding toward the club owner standing beside the DJ booth. “A birthday present.”
“Thanks, babe,” Bianca said, wobbling a little as she stepped back in her heels. “Don’t kill each other. Or do. I don’t care. I’m drunk.”
She wandered off, leaving them alone. The two girls with too much history and no words for any of it.
Lana looked Charlotte over, eyes moving from heels to collarbone. Her mouth curved, not quite into a smile.
“The new girls like your outfit,” she said, attempting civility.
“And I like yours,” Charlotte replied. “I wore something just like it… last year.”
She steadied herself with a sip of her drink, then turned fully to face Charlotte.
“Really? No one commented. I guess it wasn’t all that memorable on you.”
The two girls smiled, knowing it was best to leave it there and not escalate.
For a moment, it was quiet.
Then Lana’s gaze drifted upward, across the room to the roped-off stairwell, where she spotted Marcos. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to broadcast peak 80s sleaze, like a villain straight out of Miami Vice. The gold watch on his wrist caught the light as he reached for Bianca’s hand. He murmured something in her ear that made her laugh too loud, then leaned in closer and led her toward the stairs.
Lana's eyes followed them as she spoke. “Where are they going?”
Charlotte didn’t even look. “To his office.”
“Are they a thing now?”
Charlotte smiled. “Nah. Casual. It’s her birthday. They’ll do some lines of uncut Bolivian, then he’ll bend her over his desk.”
Lana hesitated. “She’ll be okay?”
“She’s getting free coke and fucked. She’ll be just fine.”
“Cheers to that,” Lana said, lifting her drink.
Charlotte reached over and tapped the rim of her glass to Lana’s.
The music shifted, heavier now, more beat than melody. People moved toward the dance floor like the tide rolling out to sea. Charlotte drained her glass and stepped away from the bar in one smooth motion.
“Come on,” she said. “No need to feed the rumor mill. Let’s be seen on the dance floor together. Try to keep up.”
Lana rolled her eyes but followed. She knew better than to give people something to talk about.
The heat hit harder out there. Bodies pressed close. Sequins scraped against bare arms. The air was thick with sweat and perfume. The floor was sticky underfoot from spilled drinks. Lana let the bass carry her hips, slipping into the crowd’s rhythm. Charlotte danced beside her, but never quite with her.
A man in a linen shirt drifted over, handsome enough to think he had a chance with both of them. Charlotte leaned in first, one hand resting lightly on his chest like she was deciding whether to keep him. Lana didn’t mind. She wasn’t in the mood for something new tonight. Another guy tried to wedge himself between them, but Lana stopped him cold with a look. He backed off, still smiling, as if rejection counted as attention.
Time blurred as it always did later in the night. The VIP room was half-empty now. The girls had scattered, some in pairs, some on the arms of crypto millionaires. The guys were working the open room, dropping lines on wannabe OnlyFans models, hoping one would stick. But Lana and Charlotte were still out there, right where they belonged, on the dance floor, holding every eye in the club, owning it.
One of the other girls appeared, slightly breathless.
“Have you seen Bianca?” she asked.
Lana turned toward the stairs without thinking. “She was with Marcos.”
“It’s been way over an hour, probably two,” the girl said. “She should’ve come back by now.”
Charlotte’s smile faded.
Lana met her eyes. Charlotte held the gaze for a beat, then reached for Lana’s hand.
“Come with me.”
The hallway outside Marcos’ office was dim, lit only by the faint red glow of an exit sign and the gold spill of light leaking from beneath the door. The bass from the club still hummed, but it was distant now, like it belonged to another world.
Charlotte didn’t hesitate. She pushed the door open a few inches and held it with her fingertips.
Lana leaned in without thinking.
Inside, a low leather couch sat slightly askew on a rug. Bianca’s dress lay crumpled beside it, her heels nearby, one tipped on its side.
Marcos was seated with his back against the cushions. Bianca straddled him, knees planted on either side of him, back arched, her body moving with a practiced rhythm. She moved up and down on his cock, her hips rocked with each thrust. Marcos groaned beneath her, his hands locked around her waist, guiding her harder each time she sank lower.
Beside them stood Anthony, head of security, his pants around his thighs, cock thick and glistening in the low light. Bianca’s lips stretched around it, saliva coating the length as she took him into her mouth in slow increments. Her hand cupped his balls, stroking lightly while her head bobbed deeper.
“Fuck,” Anthony muttered, breath short. “She’s gonna swallow the whole damn thing.”
Bianca moaned around him, causing him to flinch.
Lana went still.
Heat surged through her chest, up her neck, into her cheeks. Her thighs tightened. She shifted her stance but couldn’t look away.
Bianca didn’t stop. She took Anthony deeper, spit sliding down his shaft as she moved. Her other hand gripped Marcos’s chest for balance while she rode him harder, her ass slapping against his thighs in wet, rhythmic bursts. Her breath came fast, ragged around the cock in her throat.
Anthony hissed. “Fucking hell. You’re the best cock-sucker in the club.”
Marcos groaned again. “Her pussy’s goddamned nice too, she’s squeezing the life out of me, and I already dumped a load in her before you got here.”
Lana glanced at Charlotte, ready to retreat back to the VIP room.
But Charlotte wasn’t going anywhere. She was still watching.
“You want to see more of this?” Lana whispered, heart pounding.
Charlotte shrugged. “Just for a bit. How often do you get to watch one of your best friends take dick like porn star?”
It didn’t feel right, but Charlotte made it seem ok. She looked back into the room.
Bianca’s moans grew louder. She gagged slightly, then swallowed Anthony down to the base. Her mascara was smudged. Her thighs trembled as she kept moving, faster now, greedy for more.
“Yeah,” Marcos growled. “That’s it. You want it bad, don’t you? You’re such a fucking slut. I love it.”
Bianca choked and pulled her mouth off Anthony’s cock with a gasp. “Get Demitri up here, I’ll take him too.”
Lana’s breathing was shallow. Her pulse felt too loud in her ears.
Charlotte finally stepped back, eyes still lit.
"Now’s the time,” she said. "Before Demitri shows up and catches us perving."
"Three guys," Lana muttered, shaking her head. "I’m not judging, I’m just... wow."
The door clicked shut behind them. Neither of them spoke as they moved down the stairs back to the VIP room. At the bar, fresh drinks were placed in front of them without asking. Lana reached for hers with a hand that trembled just slightly.
“Funny,” she said between breaths, “for all the shit people say about you… You’re always the one looking out for the other girls.”
“People have you wrong too,” Charlotte said, sipping without looking at her. “Everyone thinks you’re so innocent, but I just saw a girl who looked ready to turn a threesome into an orgy.”
Lana laughed, the sound breaking out of her before she could stop it.
“You did not!” She playfully protested.
“Don’t lie,” Charlotte said playfully, her eyes on Lana now. “I saw your jaw drop when Anthony pulled his cock out.”
Lana turned away, blushing.
“He does have a nice one,” she acknowledged.
Charlotte raised her drink. “Happy birthday, Bianca.”
A few days later, Lana was alone in her apartment. She walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. Dinner with Bianca wasn’t for another hour or so, and while she hadn’t planned on drinking beforehand, sometimes a little wine helped sharpen her mind, and she had a lot to think about.
The events of Bianca’s birthday kept replaying in her head, the scenes looping in silence. She sipped slowly. As hard as it was to shake the image of her friend taking on two men, what stuck with her more was how it felt to joke about it with Charlotte afterward. Like they were actually friends. Somehow, that part felt even stranger.
She tried to remember exactly why they weren’t friends, but nothing clear came to mind. It had always just felt like Charlotte didn’t like her from the beginning. Lana remembered putting in the effort. Small conversations, compliments that were genuine. Charlotte never responded. She just looked past her, as if Lana didn’t belong. Sometimes it’s hard to be a girl.
The part she hated to admit was the truth that sat underneath it. Lana liked Charlotte. She always had. Beneath the tension and the distance, she had always seen qualities she admired. The confidence. The certainty. The way Charlotte made choices and stood by them. The way she moved through every room like she already knew what came next. She never seemed to hesitate. She never asked for permission, her presence gave it to others.
It was easy to forget that inside that bold Miami icon was a young girl from New Jersey, and in the rare moments when Charlotte let her guard down, that’s who Lana saw.
Lana reached for her phone and began typing.
Let’s go out. Just us.
She stared at the text, studying it, gave it time to live… but didn’t send it.
Across town, Charlotte stirred her coffee while telling Bryce about Bianca’s party.
He watched her with an arched brow, a half-eaten croissant resting in his hand.
“So wait,” he said. “You were with Lana? Just hanging out like that?”
Charlotte didn’t look up. “I had to check on Bianca. I didn’t know what I was going to find. Lana was just… there.”
Bryce smirked. “That’s some bullshit and you know it.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”
“You like her,” Bryce said, drawing out each word.
“I don’t hate her.”
“That’s not what I said.”
Charlotte’s hand curled around her mug. Her nails tapped lightly against the ceramic.
“Sometimes I think she just hates me.”
“Why would she hate you?” Bryce looked genuinely confused. “That girl doesn’t hate you. I think she wants to be more like you.”
Charlotte didn’t respond right away. Her mouth was tight. Her expression was unreadable.
“I swear to God Bryce, if you ever repeat this, I will cut your dick off and feed it to gators.”
He raised both hands and held still, mock-serious.
Charlotte exhaled.
“The truth is, I wish I was more like her too.”
He was not expecting that.
“People always say we’re alike. I know we look similar, and we’ve got the same hair. But we’re not the same. And I think she got the better deal.”
“Girl, come on. This is some wild talk.”
“I’m serious. People expect me to be in the middle of everything. If the night isn’t epic, it’s somehow my fault. Lana just gets to show up and be exactly who she is. And everyone loves her for it. No pressure or expectations.”
Bryce leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Call her. It’s been like a year now. You need to work this out.”
Charlotte looked away. Her voice was quieter now. “I think it’s too late for that.”
It was close to dinner time now as Lana checked her reflection in the hallway mirror before grabbing her bag. Hair pinned. Simple black dress, fitted and low at the back. She was meeting Bianca at The Standard, something casual, a bite to eat, and a chance to gossip.
She stepped outside and turned toward the curb.
Charlotte was leaning against the side of a low-slung silver coupe, arms folded, eyes hidden behind a pair of round sunglasses.
Lana questioned herself. “Charlotte?”
“C’mon,” she said. “We’re going for dinner.”
“I’m supposed to be meeting Bianca.”
“Cancel. She’ll understand.”
Charlotte pushed off the car and walked around to the driver’s side. She opened the door, paused halfway in.
“You coming or what?”
For a split second, Lana wondered what angle Charlotte was working. Part of her wanted to resist, but curiosity got the better of her.
She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, saying nothing. Charlotte didn’t press. The engine started with a low purr, and they pulled away from the curb in silence, the hum of the city rising all around.
The Miami River moved slowly behind them. Lights rippled across the water, casting faint golden patterns on the patio at Zuma. Their empty plates had been cleared, replaced with a pair of cocktails, ice cold and garnished with razor-thin slices of cucumber.
Lana swirled hers lightly. “So, I mean, I appreciate all of this,” she said. “But I don’t think we came here just for the sushi, did we?”
Charlotte smirked. “I was talking to Bryce earlier. He got me thinking. Maybe I had you all wrong.”
Lana raised an eyebrow, surprised by the admission. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that before.”
Charlotte’s shoulders stiffened.
“I didn’t mean it as a dig,” Lana added quickly. “I just meant… maybe I’ve been wrong about you too.”
Charlotte eased, took a sip of her drink, then set the glass down with care.
“This thing between us… I don’t know how it turned into whatever it is,” Charlotte said.
“I don’t even know how it started,” Lana admitted. “I always thought you hated me, right from the beginning.”
Charlotte gave a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it.
“You know what got under my skin?” she said. “You jumped the line.”
Lana looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a way things work. You know that. We earn our place. Bit by bit. One night at a time,” Charlotte said. “But Bianca pulled you in on day one, and that was it. You were in. No questions. No waiting. Nothing earned.”
Lana’s mind raced. She hadn’t considered any of this before, but it was starting to make sense now.
“You had, what, two hours? In VIP and you were at our table. That’s not supposed to happen.”
Lana paused, the weight of it finally sinking in.
“I know how things work now, but I didn’t back then. I swear. I was leaving, no plans to come back, when Bianca grabbed me. I didn’t even know there was a line.”
Charlotte nodded slowly. “You said the other night that I look out for the girls. That’s exactly what I was doing. Yasmine, Olivia, a few of the others… they were showing up, putting in the work, trying. Then you walked in, and suddenly you were the new center of gravity. First night in VIP, and you were already on top.”
Lana exhaled, quiet now. “I can see how that would piss people off.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Yeah, it did.”
“I was lost in my own head,” Lana said. “Earlier that same night, some guy told me I looked like some bitch who hung out there. As soon as I saw you, I knew who he meant.”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“I hadn’t even met you yet,” Lana went on, “but I already had it in my head you were some kind of mean girl. And when I saw you with Yasmine and Olivia, giving me those looks… it cemented things for me. I didn’t know I’d actually done something wrong.”
“So everything that’s happened since then, this whole year of us fucking with each other, started because Bianca was too drunk to follow protocol, and some asshole I probably shot down convinced you I was a bitch?”
Lana gave a small, sheepish shrug. “It sounds so stupid when you say it like that, but yeah. I think that’s how it went down.”
The two women laughed at the absurdity of it all, each of them replaying different moments from the past year when they were ready to kill each other.
“Other people fed the fire too,” Charlotte said, her voice showing a little anger. “Always comparing us, picking sides, making sure we stayed in opposite corners. It was sport for some of them.”
Hours passed, and the conversation flowed as easily as the cocktails did.
Lana sat back, legs crossed at the knee. “I’m definitely tipsy.”
Charlotte lifted her glass, finishing the last sip. “I guess I’m not driving tonight. Uber it is.”
“Where are we going?”
Charlotte stood and straightened her dress. “Dancing.”
“Where?” Lana reached for her phone. “I’ll text the girls.”
“Don’t,” Charlotte said, glancing back over her shoulder.
Lana hesitated.
Charlotte’s smile was soft, but there was something else in it.
“Just us tonight.”
The club pulsed with color and sound, the kind of heat that lived in the walls and shook from a bassline that never let up. Neon flickered across the bar. People swayed in tight clusters, bodies lit with sweat and rhythm.
Lana and Charlotte didn’t blend in. They stood out and claimed the room.
From the moment they stepped onto the dance floor, the energy in the club picked up. Heads turned. Conversations faltered. Bartenders leaned forward. Men and women alike watched them move, unable to look away. They danced as if no one was watching, while knowing everyone was.
The entire room reoriented itself to the two women.
A loose circle formed around them, as if proximity had become a currency.
Charlotte’s hands slid down Lana’s arms. Lana tipped her head back against Charlotte’s shoulder, her body rolling with the rhythm. Charlotte’s hands pressed firmer now, shaping the curve of Lana’s waist, gliding lower, fingertips flirting with the hem of her dress.
Lana arched.
Charlotte’s mouth found her neck. Not a kiss, not yet, just breath. Lana’s eyes fluttered shut. Her smile turned to something else. Something needful.
Charlotte’s hands moved again. One held Lana’s hip, guiding the pace. The other grazed the inside of her thigh, just high enough to make Lana gasp.
Eventually, they slipped into a private booth tucked behind the DJ’s platform. Low velvet seats. A small round table. Another drink appeared. Lana wasn’t sure who sent it. Charlotte didn’t care.
They sat close. Close enough for legs to touch, for breaths to sync.
Lana took a slow sip, then set her glass down.
“I hate that I hated you for so long,” Charlotte said.
Lana looked at her. Waiting.
Charlotte’s voice was soft in confession now. “It was more than just the line jump… I was jealous of you. You were like a better version of me.”
Lana tensed. “I felt the same way,” she said. “Your life seemed so awesome. You did what you wanted, confident and unapologetic. It’s hard to be like that these days. That’s how we get labeled bitches.”
Charlotte smiled faintly. “It feels like the whole world conspired to keep us at each other’s throats.”
Lana nodded.
“If we put this to bed, the internet’s gonna lose its mind.”
“The thought of us on the same side scares too many people,” Charlotte added. “Even some of our friends. It’s always divide and conquer.”
Lana reached out and placed her hand on Charlotte’s knee. Probably innocent, but maybe not.
Her voice was even. “All of that ends tonight. I’d ride for you, Charlotte.”
Charlotte’s eyes flicked down to Lana’s hand, then back up.
“You’re sexy as fuck when you dance. I’ve been waiting a year to say that.”
She leaned in and kissed her.
There was no warning. No hesitation. Lips parting and mouths meeting.
Lana froze for half a second, instinct catching up to impulse.
Then she kissed her back.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t playful. It was hungry and messy. Lana’s hand moved up, across Charlotte’s ribs, cupping the side of her breast through the thin fabric before her mind caught up to her body.
She pulled back just enough to whisper, “People have their cell phones out. We just hit the front page of every nightlife blog in Miami.”
Charlotte’s smile was dangerous.
“Let’s go back to my place.”
They stood. Neither of them looked back at the booth. The club watched them go, two women, hand in hand, unbothered, walking straight through the crowd like they owned it.
Because in that moment, they did.
They stepped out into the humid night, still pulsing with leftover music, the city tilting around them like it was trying to catch up. Lana raised her hand to flag a taxi. Fifteen minutes later, they were at Charlotte’s building.
The door to her apartment closed with a soft click, and the second it latched, they were on each other.
Lana pressed her back to the wall, Charlotte’s mouth finding hers with no restraint. It wasn’t a kiss for show, it was for intent. Tongues colliding, lips parting wide, hands in hair, on hips, against ribs. There was nothing reserved about it.
Lana moaned into Charlotte’s mouth and reached blindly for her waist, gripping the fabric of her top, pulling her closer, grinding against her body.
Heels clattered to the floor. A jacket fell somewhere in the hallway. Their kiss never broke as they stumbled toward the bedroom, laughing between gasps, teeth grazing lips, fingers fumbling at zippers.
Charlotte peeled Lana’s dress over her head and tossed it behind her without looking. Lana undid Charlotte’s belt with shaking hands, laughing softly when it stuck halfway. Charlotte kissed her harder in response, pulling her flush, her thigh sliding between Lana’s legs like it had been waiting a year to find itself there.
By the time they reached the bedroom, they were half-undressed, skin already damp with anticipation.
They stood at the edge of the bed, both breathing hard.
Lana’s bra dropped to the floor first. Charlotte’s followed. They stared at each other for a long second, eyes moving slowly over exposed skin.
Then Lana stepped forward, pulled at the sides of Charlotte’s skirt, and dragged it down, watching as it slid over her hips, down her thighs, and gathered around her ankles.
Now there was only lace between them and nothing else.
And then they fell onto the bed, laughing again, the heat that had been growing since the first time they locked eyes in a crowded room.
Charlotte moved first.
She climbed over Lana like she’d been meaning to for months. Her lips found Lana’s mouth again, but this time, slower. Deeper. She kissed her like she was tasting something new and forbidden.
Her mouth moved to Lana’s jaw, then her neck. She sucked just under her ear, drawing a sharp gasp. Lana arched her back and gripped the sheets as Charlotte kissed her collarbone, her chest, the soft weight of her breast.
Charlotte’s tongue circled her nipple once. Then again. Lana cried out, legs shifting, hands searching for anything to hold. The pressure was perfect. Just enough teeth. Just enough pause between kisses to make her ache.
Charlotte took her time. She kissed the underside of Lana’s breasts, then moved lower. Lips trailing fire down her ribs, across her stomach. Every kiss left a trace of lipstick, faint and smudged like a path.
Lana writhed beneath her, one hand resting on Charlotte’s head, the other fisting the edge of the sheets.
Charlotte reached the waistband of her panties and pressed a kiss just above it. Then she looked up, eyes dark, mouth parted.
Lana nodded. She didn’t say a word.
Charlotte slid her fingers under the lace and peeled them down, watching Lana’s body shift with every movement. She tossed the panties aside and moved her hands up the insides of her thighs.
She kissed her there, slowly, then lower, then higher again.
Lana whimpered.
Charlotte smiled, suspecting this might be Lana’s first time with a woman.
“You’re shaking,” she whispered.
Lana’s voice caught in her throat. “Don’t stop.”
Charlotte didn’t.
She dipped lower, her mouth finding Lana with a deep, hungry kiss that had nothing soft in it. Her tongue worked with filthy precision, slow at first, savoring every slick stroke. Then faster. Wet and focused, her lips tight, her mouth open and insistent.
Lana gasped, then broke into a moan. Her legs spread wider, back arching off the bed, hips grinding toward Charlotte’s mouth.
“Fuck,” she whispered, head thrown back. “You eat pussy so good.”
Charlotte groaned against her, her mouth moving faster, more rhythm now, more pressure. She flicked her tongue over Lana’s clit in short, exact strokes, then sucked gently, then harder, holding her open and down with both hands as Lana’s body twisted under her.
“Oh my God,” Lana gasped. “My clit… lick my clit. Fuck—yes—don’t stop—please don’t stop—”
Charlotte didn’t say anything. She moaned into her, licked deeper, flattened her tongue, and dragged it across Lana’s soaked skin before circling fast again, working her relentlessly.
Lana’s thighs trembled. Her fingers curled in the sheets. Then one hand grabbed at Charlotte’s hair, needing something to hold.
“You’re gonna make me cum,” she panted.
Lana’s moans turned desperate. Broken. Her body tensed.
And then she came, loud and messy, gasping Charlotte’s name like it was the only word she knew.
Charlotte kept going, lapping with her tongue through every aftershock, kissing her thighs as Lana collapsed back into the bed, arms spread wide, chest heaving.
“Jesus Christ,” Lana whispered, dazed and glowing. “That was incredible.”
Charlotte kissed her inner thigh, then her hip, then crawled back up her body, trailing the scent of sex, lipstick, and sweat.
Lana grabbed her face and kissed her, tasting herself on Charlotte’s mouth, pulling her close with the last of her strength.
Charlotte kissed her back, slow this time, but the hunger didn’t fade.
“That was just round one,” she whispered.
Lana’s lips curved into a half-formed smile.
“Good,” she said. “Now lie down and let me return the favor.”
Charlotte rolled onto her back, her legs parted slightly. Lana rose onto her knees between them, her hair mussed, lips swollen, body still flushed with heat and satisfaction.
She looked down at Charlotte, this woman she thought she hated, envied, feared. She didn’t see any of that now, only want and desire.
Charlotte reached out and brushed her fingers across Lana’s cheek. “Take them off,” she murmured, nodding toward her panties.
Lana slid them down Charlotte’s hips until they were off and discarded beside the bed. Charlotte spread her legs a little wider, not shy, just wanting Lana to discover her own pace.
She kissed her thighs first, soft, open-mouthed, letting her lips linger. Then again, closer. Charlotte’s breathing picked up, deeper now, more vocal, her hand slipping into Lana’s hair. “Right there. Let me feel it.”
Lana lowered her head and let her tongue trace the soft, swollen curve of her, licking up the full length of Charlotte’s pussy, her tongue flat and warm, dragging from the bottom to the very top before circling her clit with lazy, wet strokes.
Charlotte exhaled hard. “Your mouth is so nice,” she said. “Keep going. Just like that.”
Lana moaned into her, the vibration caused Charlotte’s eyes to flutter. She licked her again, faster now, tongue moving with purpose. She wasn’t careful anymore. She was greedy, using her mouth to express her desire, kissing and licking everywhere, over Charlotte’s clit, along her folds, tracing every slick inch of her like she was learning her body by taste alone.
“Fuck. Yes. That’s good,” she said, her hand guiding Lana with subtle pressure. Not pushing. Just holding her there.
Lana licked her again, slower this time, flattening her tongue and dragging it upward, then again, faster. Her mouth locked into rhythm, tongue circling, tasting, sucking.
Charlotte moaned louder, fingers curling against Lana’s scalp. “Use your fingers,” she whispered. “I want to feel you inside me.”
Lana slid one hand up and let her fingers press inward, slow and careful at first, feeling Charlotte’s body open for her. She kept her mouth steady, her tongue pulsing against the most sensitive spot as her fingers slipped deeper, curling gently.
Charlotte gasped. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s so good. Just like that, don’t stop.”
Lana didn’t. Her tongue moved faster, fingers working in time with every shift of Charlotte’s hips. She could feel her unraveling, tightening, twitching, pulsing around her fingers.
Charlotte’s voice was raw now. “Yes, just like that. God, you’re a natural, so fucking good at this.”
Lana kept going. No hesitation. Her mouth and fingers moving together, faster now, messier. She could feel Charlotte getting closer, her thighs clenching, her moans turning sharp.
And then she broke, arching hard, hips lifting off the bed, a cry ripping from her throat as she came, grinding into Lana’s mouth, hand still on her head, holding her there through every wave.
Lana stayed with her. Kissed her through it. Licked her slow as she came down.
When Charlotte finally let go of her hair, she exhaled a long, shuddering breath.
Lana crawled up and collapsed beside her, arm across her stomach, face buried in her neck.
They lay there like that for a long time, sweaty, tangled, silent except for the sound of breathing and the occasional, half-choked laugh.
Charlotte turned her head and kissed Lana’s temple.
“I hope that was worth the wait,” she said.
Lana smiled against her skin.
“Honestly, I’m speechless.”
Morning light spilled in through the half-open blinds, soft against the concrete floor. The windows were still fogged near the corners from the night before. The apartment smelled like fresh coffee with a faint trace of sin.
Lana sat at the kitchen island in one of Charlotte’s oversized black t-shirts, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs. Her hair was a tangled mess down her back, still damp with sweat and sleep. She held a mug between both hands, steam curling upward as she sipped.
Charlotte sat across from her, bare-legged, in an almost matching shirt. She had a red mark on the side of her neck, something Lana had left there hours ago without realizing.
Neither of them said anything at first. The silence was full, but not awkward.
Lana tucked a knee up against her chest, her eyes still heavy. “So,” she said finally, voice hoarse with sleep. “That happened.”
Charlotte smirked over the rim of her cup. “It did.”
They sipped their coffees in unison.
Lana set her mug down gently. “You’re good at that. Really good.”
“I know,” Charlotte said, not bragging, just happy to admit the truth of it. “So were you.”
Lana laughed softly. “You sure? I was kind of improvising.”
“I noticed,” Charlotte said. “Didn’t matter. You were hungry. That’s half the battle.”
Lana blushed but didn’t look away. “I think you realized… but that was my first time. With a woman.”
Charlotte smiled, setting her mug aside. “It won’t be your last,” she said. “I can promise you that.”
Lana looked at her for a long moment. “It felt right. With you.”
Charlotte nodded. “It was right.”
They sat with that. No deflection, no sarcasm, no tension. Just the honesty of it, still clinging to the sheets in the next room.
Lana glanced around the kitchen, half-curious what it might reveal about the woman across from her. The chipped tile behind the sink. The hanging light missing a bulb. A half-empty bowl of lemons on the counter. None of these were flaws, just proof that someone who always had to be perfect in public didn’t feel the need to pretend at home.
“It’s nice here. It feels lived in.”
“It didn’t used to,” Charlotte said. “But I made it mine. Nothing here judges me.”
Lana nodded. “I get that.”
“I know you do.”
Charlotte reached across the island, brushed her fingers along the back of Lana’s hand, then rested her hand gently on top.
They sat like that for a while, hand in hand, two girls with a complicated history that few could ever hope to understand, now seeing each other with no complications at all.
Then Charlotte stood and stretched. Her shirt lifted just enough to show the curve of her hip.
“You can take a shower if you want.”
Lana looked up at her, a smile forming. “Only if you join me.”
Charlotte tilted her head. “You asking?”
Lana stood and walked toward her, her fingers brushing Charlotte’s wrist as she passed.
“I’m telling you.”
Charlotte laughed, then followed.
The door to the bathroom clicked shut.
The coffee cooled.
The sun climbed.
And the city kept spinning, as two girls, no longer confused, disappeared into the steam, finally on the same side.
