Janelle sat up in the middle of the mattress, cradling the covers in both hands. Her back was bare, chilled not by the temperature of Wanda’s cozy home, but by her apprehension. The house was too quiet.
There was a squeak on the stairs and then a creak on the landing before Wanda appeared in the doorway. Janelle struggled with where to look first: she glanced at her woman’s face, but she couldn’t glean any emotion from that stony expression before her gaze shot down between Wanda’s thighs.
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