“Enjoying the show?”
Ellie gulped. Her hands spun from their determined exploration up, up, away from anything morally questionable. Her doe eyes did their best, faced with her date’s inquisitive smile. She was caught.
“Shhh. We wouldn’t want to disturb them.” Camille moved toward her, eyes glinting in the candlelight.
“How did you…” Ellie tried, but she was too flustered to reply.
“You’ve been gone half an hour. Pascalle was worried. I came to look and found the doors had changed.”
So she wasn’t crazy. The scenery had moved! Ellie was almost relieved. “I didn’t know how to get back.”
“You don’t look too upset,” Camille teased, flashing her sharp canines. She took Ellie’s hand, which had just moments before been pushing the limits of public decency. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the ends of Ellie’s fingers.
“Do you like it?”
Ellie was speechless. Did she like it? She wasn’t sure. She was fascinated, but someone could be fascinated by a train wreck or botched surgery. What was this, in comparison? Who was she, watching some S&M performance and playing with herself? What would her parents think? She was a very long way from home.
“You do, don’t you?” Camille was testing her, but gently. Camille’s hands snaked around Ellie’s waist, then up her arm to the line of her jaw. “Look again.”
Ellie tried to see further into the room, but the keyhole offered only a glimpse. Camille’s hands were roaming. Ellie’s head swam. She felt a tongue on the back of her neck, fingers tracing a line up the length of her thigh. She pressed back against Camille and moaned, the sound unfurling from her lips.
This short story is recommended for ages 17+.
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