We stand in a corner of the gallery, two young women, strangers to each other, looking out at the early evening crowd that fills every inch of the brightly lit white space. Don’t move, she whispers. It sounds like a line from a movie. She is slightly behind me. She puts one hand on my waist but there is nothing intimidating about it.
She draws the hem of my dress up the back of my legs until I feel the cool air against the cheeks of my ass. I am not wearing panties. I glance around to see if anyone is looking. I adjust my stance so my legs are further apart. I am not sure what to expect. I restrain myself from turning to look at her.
I feel her breath against the small of my back, then her tongue traces the shallow crevice between my buttocks. There is a flutter of slender fingertips between my legs, either side of my labia. I stiffen slightly and try not to move. I feel exposed and vulnerable: Surely everyone can see? The risk of discovery increases my arousal.Her tongue circles my anus then delves inside me. A finger widens me to receive more of it. My legs are like jelly but I stifle a ecstatic whimper with the pretense of a yawn. Another finger finds its way into my seeping cunt, hooking soft pads on its fleshy walls, drawing me closer to her mouth. I bend slightly to push my ass back, to open myself to her more.
But suddenly tongue and finger are withdrawn. The void is so intense it aches. I feel the hem of my dress drop behind me. Hands lightly smooth the fabric over my hips. Lips brush against the nape of my neck. I turn, but she is already several feet away from me, immersed in the crowd. She doesn’t look back.