Chapter 3
the essay is halfway done now and the kitchen feels smaller somehow. the tea’s gone cold in both mugs and the only sounds are her soft breathing my pen scratching paper and the little shaky exhales she lets out every time my hand moves higher on her thigh. she’s still sitting straight like a good teacher trying to pretend this is normal but her legs have parted another inch without her saying a word. my fingers are stroking slow lazy circles on the softest part of her inner thigh right where the skin feels hottest. she keeps trying to read the next line out loud to keep us on track but her voice cracks every few words.
“so the… the protagonist he um he confronts his… his feelings and…” she trails off her eyes fluttering when i brush higher again. my thumb grazes the edge of
