Upstairs, behind the shut wooden door, a shiloutte sat on the edge of the bed like a criminal waiting for her sentence.
Her legs wouldn't stop shaking. Pale white thighs pressed together, denim shorts riding up just enough to make her curse herself. A black tank covered her chest, too thin, showing skin she wished wasn't so obvious right now.
Her lips were bleeding faintly where she'd bitten them raw. Shampoo still covered her damp, wavy hair, dripping strands curling down her shoulder. She smelled clean, too clean, like someone scrubbed her guilt away, but the nerves didn't wash off.
She hugged her own arms, teeth grinding. "… what did I just do?"
The cold marble under her bare feet made her shiver, reminding her how exposed she was. A thin waist, breasts pushing against the fabric every time she breathed too hard, she hated it.
Her thighs stuck slightly against the seat as she shifted, skin steamy and trembling. Why the hell am I like this?
