Claire didn't disappear.
She started showing up like a ghost Elena couldn't exorcise.
First it was the café—Claire at a corner table every afternoon for three days straight, ordering black coffee she barely touched, eyes tracking Elena whenever Mia wasn't looking. Elena felt the stare like fingers on her skin. Mia noticed too. Her touches grew rougher, more territorial—hand high on Elena's thigh under the table, nails digging in just enough to leave crescent marks.
Then Claire appeared at one of Elena's rare public readings.
The small bookstore downtown had dim lights, folding chairs, maybe thirty people. Elena was reading from her latest short story—something dark and hungry about a woman who lets herself be devoured. Halfway through she looked up and saw Claire in the third row, arms crossed, lips pressed thin.
Elena's voice faltered for one second.
Mia was standing at the back wall, arms folded, eyes locked on Claire like a predator sizing up prey. When the reading ended and people came forward to chat, Mia cut through the crowd in five strides, slid an arm around Elena's waist, and kissed her—slow, deep, obscene in front of everyone.
Claire watched.
Elena felt the kiss everywhere—Mia's tongue claiming her mouth, hand sliding possessively over the curve of her ass, squeezing hard. When Mia pulled back she didn't look at Claire. She looked only at Elena.
"Let's get out of here," Mia murmured against her lips. Loud enough for Claire to hear.
They didn't make it far.
The alley behind the bookstore was narrow, shadowed, smelling of rain and garbage. Mia pushed Elena against the brick wall the second the door clicked shut.
"Lift your skirt," she ordered.
Elena's hands shook as she obeyed. No panties—Mia had taken them before the reading and tucked them into her own pocket like a trophy.
Mia dropped to her knees right there on the damp concrete, shoved Elena's thighs apart, and buried her face between them.
Elena's head thunked back against the wall. "Someone could—fuck—"
"Let them." Mia's tongue was merciless—lapping at her clit, then pushing inside, fucking her with quick, hungry strokes. One hand reached up, pinched Elena's nipple through her dress until she whimpered.
Elena came fast, biting her own wrist to muffle the cry, thighs trembling around Mia's head.
Mia stood, spun her around, bent her forward so her palms braced on the wall.
"You think she still wants you?" Mia growled, yanking Elena's dress up to her waist. "After seeing how you come for me?"
Elena shook her head frantically. "No—no—"
Mia slapped her ass—sharp, stinging. "Liar. You got wetter the second you saw her in that audience."
Another slap. Elena moaned, pushing back.
Mia fished the thick strap from her bag (she'd started carrying it everywhere now, like a weapon). She buckled it on, slicked it with Elena's own wetness, and thrust in deep.
Elena's cry echoed off the bricks.
Mia fucked her hard—fast, punishing strokes that made Elena's tits bounce under the thin fabric, knees buckling. One hand wrapped around Elena's throat—not choking, just holding, reminding.
"Say it," Mia rasped. "Say who fucks this cunt best."
"You—you do—Mia—only you—"
Mia's other hand found Elena's clit, rubbing fast. Elena came again, squirting down her own thighs, soaking Mia's jeans.
Mia didn't stop. Kept pounding until Elena was crying, oversensitive, begging.
When she finally pulled out, Elena slid to her knees in the alley, mouth open. Mia fed her the strap—still warm, slick with Elena's cum—and Elena sucked eagerly, looking up with wet eyes.
Mia stroked her hair. "Good girl. My good fucking girl."
They walked back inside holding hands, Elena's dress wrinkled, thighs sticky, lips swollen. Claire was gone.
But the next morning a bouquet arrived at the café—white lilies, Elena's favorite. The card read only:
I'm not giving up that easily.
Mia read it, jaw tight, then tore the card in half and dropped the flowers in the trash.
That night she fucked Elena on the café counter after closing—lights off, only the street lamps glowing through the windows.
Elena on her back, legs over Mia's shoulders, Mia's mouth on her clit while three fingers curled inside her.
When Elena came she screamed loud enough that a passing car slowed down.
Mia climbed up, straddled her face, and rode Elena's tongue until she came shaking, grinding down so hard Elena could barely breathe.
Afterward, Mia held her close on the cold countertop.
"She's not getting you back," Mia whispered. "I'll burn the fucking city down before I let her."
Elena believed her.