The blue dress was a mistake I put on anyway.
Nothing under it. His c*m still a slick ghost between my thighs because I had not wiped it off. I sat at Tessa’s table at 7:04 with my knees together and then, because his eyes told me to, I let them fall open a fraction under the cloth.
Tessa talked. Residency. A patient who would not stop bleeding. How nice it was to have her baby sister home, how the spare pillows were the good ones, how I should not be shy about food. Grant passed the salt. His fingers brushed mine and came away shiny with a little of what I had not cleaned, and he put those fingers on his water glass like nothing in the world was wrong.
Under the table his shoe hooked my ankle and dragged it toward him until my knees were spread and the dress was the only thing between
