The bar was warm and golden, all soft jazz and dim lights that looked like candle glow through glass. The air buzzed gently — not loud, not wild — just bodies and drinks and stories in the making.
Sienna slipped onto a stool at the far end, shaking off the cold with a deep breath and the flick of her dark curls over one shoulder. She was here to be anonymous. Just a glass of something strong, just a moment of stillness.
But then she walked in.

A woman in a backless dress, high heels clicking softly across the floor, mouth painted a deep, dangerous red. Her hair was a tumble of dark gold, curls framing a face that was more trouble than Sienna had the strength to avoid tonight.
Their eyes met. Just for a moment.
But it changed everything.
The woman gave a half-smile. Sharp. Inevitable.
She didn’t sit far. Just two stools down. Close enough for heat to pass between them, but far enough for tension to build.

Sienna pretended not to notice — until the woman slid her drink toward her with two fingers and said, “Looks like you need something stronger.”
Sienna looked over. Raised an eyebrow. “You always offer strangers your drink?”
The woman smiled. “Only the ones who stare like they want to devour me.”
Sienna blinked, caught. “And if I do?”
“Then maybe I’ll let you.” A pause. “I’m Isla.”
“Sienna.”

They shook hands. Isla’s grip was firm, slow, and entirely too lingering. The electricity was instant.
They talked. One drink turned to two. Legs brushed. Hands found wrists, arms, hair. Isla leaned in to whisper something about how Sienna’s lips looked like a sin waiting to happen — and Sienna’s hand clenched so tight on her glass she nearly cracked it.

Isla smirked. “Come with me.”
Sienna didn’t answer. She just followed.

They slipped past tables and through a narrow door into the hallway behind the bar. The second it closed, Isla turned and pressed her against the wall, mouth crashing into hers like she’d been waiting hours instead of minutes.
The kiss was fire. All tongue and teeth and no space between them.
Sienna groaned, hands gripping Isla’s waist, dragging her closer until their bodies lined up perfectly. Isla shoved a leg between her thighs and pushed. Hard.
Sienna gasped. “You’re not shy.”
Isla smirked. “I’ve wanted to taste you since you looked at me.”

And then she dropped to her knees.

Right there in the hallway, her hands pushing up Sienna’s skirt, finding her soaked through — panties clinging, ruined. She pulled them aside and didn’t wait. Just dragged her tongue up her slick folds and moaned like she’d come home.
Sienna’s head hit the wall. Her knees buckled.
Isla licked her like she was starving. Mouth and tongue working in unison, slow at first — teasing circles, flicks just under the clit — then faster, sucking her until Sienna was gasping, hands tangled in Isla’s hair.

“You’re gonna make me—” Sienna whimpered.
Isla responded by curling two fingers inside her. Perfectly. Deep and slow, then faster.
Sienna cried out, hips jerking, grinding into her face. The orgasm was sharp, fast, almost brutal. Her whole body shuddered, a low, guttural moan tearing from her throat as Isla held her there, licking through every wave.

But she didn’t stop.

Even as Sienna trembled and panted, Isla kept going — her fingers still thrusting, her mouth back at her clit.
“I can’t—” Sienna tried to pull back.
Isla’s grip tightened. “You can.”
The second orgasm ripped through her harder, legs almost giving out, hips bucking, a scream caught in her throat.
That was when they heard footsteps. A voice. A laugh too close.

Sienna grabbed Isla’s arm. Breathless. “We need to move.”
Isla stood slowly, licking her lips. “Bathroom?”
“Now.”

They stumbled inside the private single stall, locking the door. It barely clicked shut before Sienna shoved Isla back against it and kissed her with desperate hunger.
She dropped to her knees this time.
The dress rode up easily. No panties. Of course. Sienna looked up, mouth inches away, and said, “You’re filthy.”
Isla nodded. “Make me filthier.”

Sienna groaned — low and dark — before she buried her tongue between Isla’s thighs.

Isla cried out, legs trembling immediately as Sienna devoured her.
She didn’t tease. She licked and sucked with intention, flattening her tongue, circling Isla’s clit, then focusing on it with relentless rhythm. Her fingers thrust in deep, fast, curling every time Isla’s moans hit a new octave.
Isla clutched the sink, head thrown back.

“You’re gonna make me—fuck—Sienna—”
"Do it,” Sienna growled, “all over my tongue.”

Isla came hard. Shaking. Loud. Her thighs clamped around Sienna’s head as the orgasm hit her like a wave crashing over a cliff. Sienna kept licking. Kept owning her.

By the time she stood up, Isla was gasping, flushed, wrecked.
They kissed again, both messy, moaning, fingers roaming under clothes, grabbing wherever they could.
But Isla wasn’t done.
She turned Sienna around, bent her over the sink, and pulled her skirt up high.
Sienna looked at her in the mirror. “You’re insatiable.”

Isla’s smile was feral. “You have no idea.”
She dropped to her knees again — from behind this time — and buried her face between Sienna’s thighs, tongue finding her again, now even more soaked, more sensitive, more desperate.
Sienna screamed.
There were no more words. Just skin against skin, sweat, breath, fingernails, gasps. The sounds of need echoing in tile and mirror.

Another orgasm.

Then Isla stood, hands on Sienna’s hips, pulling her back into her as they kissed again — lazy and slow this time, drained and pulsing.
Eventually, they collapsed against the bathroom wall, a tangled, sweating mess.

Silence.

Then laughter.

“God,” Sienna whispered.
Isla chuckled. “You say that like we’re done.

They collapsed against the bathroom wall, tangled and breathless, chests rising in sync. Their lips found each other again — this time slower, but still desperate, still tasting of salt and sweat and slick heat.
Sienna’s voice was ragged. “We’re insane.”
Isla’s eyes glittered. “And not nearly finished.”

She reached for her purse, tossed in the corner during the frenzy. Sienna watched with curiosity—until Isla unzipped a sleek inner pocket and pulled out something small, black, and curved like a secret.

A vibrator.

Sienna’s breath caught.
“You carry that in your bag?”
Isla smiled wickedly. “Some women carry lipstick. I like to be prepared.”
She clicked it on. The low hum was obscene in the quiet bathroom, vibrating with promise.
“Lie back,” Isla said softly, but with no room for argument.
Sienna climbed onto the closed toilet lid, legs spread slightly, her skirt still bunched high around her waist. Her panties were somewhere on the floor. Isla dropped to her knees again, the little toy purring in her hand.

“I want to watch you fall apart,” she whispered.

The first touch was light — just the edge of vibration against Sienna’s already aching clit. She jolted, gasping.

“Fuck—Isla—”

Isla grinned and added her fingers — two of them slipping in deep, wet, curling inside while the toy stayed firmly pressed against her clit. The dual sensation made Sienna scream — her hips bucking, legs shaking.
She gripped Isla’s hair, begging, cursing, panting. “That’s too— I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Isla purred, thrusting her fingers faster. “You will.”

She added a third finger and pinned the vibrator harder. Sienna’s whole body writhed, legs trying to close, thighs trembling violently.

The orgasm was devastating — it tore through her with a sharp cry, her back arching off the seat, her muscles locking. Isla didn’t stop. She held her there, rode the waves with her until Sienna was crying out again — the second orgasm crashing down before the first had fully ended.
Sienna was gasping, undone, her thighs quivering.
She reached for Isla — but Isla shook her head.

“My turn,” she said, standing up and hiking her dress over her hips again.
Sienna caught her breath, hand trembling as she took the toy from Isla’s fingers. “Lay down,” she whispered.
Isla obeyed — back against the tile, legs spread, heels still on, dress bunched above her waist.
Sienna crouched over her, watching her squirm beneath her touch.

Then she slid the vibrator between Isla’s legs, flicking it on high.
Isla’s gasp was instant — body jerking, head hitting the tile.
“Want my fingers too?” Sienna murmured, already sliding them in.
Isla moaned loudly, her body arching up to meet every thrust.

Sienna worked her — slow, deep strokes while the toy buzzed perfectly over her clit. Isla writhed, clawing at the tile, gasping, begging.
“Sienna—please—don’t stop—don’t you dare—”
Sienna leaned down and licked Isla’s inner thigh, watching her unravel.
The orgasm ripped through Isla like a storm, her entire body convulsing as she cried out, eyes squeezed shut, thighs clamping tight around Sienna’s wrist.

But Sienna didn’t stop.

She pulled the vibrator away and replaced it with her mouth — sucking, licking, devouring Isla’s clit while her fingers kept thrusting, slick and deep and relentless.
“Too much,” Isla whimpered. “I—Sienna—oh my god—”

Another orgasm, harder than the last.

Isla screamed, body shaking violently beneath her, one heel slipping off as she came so hard her voice broke into a sob. Sienna kissed her through it — mouth soft now, gentle, easing her down from the edge.
Finally, she pulled back and looked at her.
Isla was a mess. Glowing, ruined, trembling.
Sienna leaned down, kissed her forehead.

“You carry that toy with you everywhere?”

Isla let out a shaky laugh. “Starting to think I should hand you the keys to my apartment.”
They stayed like that for a moment — bodies tangled, sweat cooling.

Then Sienna whispered, “Let’s go back to mine. I have a drawer full of batteries.”

Isla grinned. “And I have no self-control.”
They didn’t make it out of the bar before kissing again.
And they didn’t make it through the front door of Sienna’s place before pulling each other to the floor for round three.