Thought Exercise

Summer and Jezabel walk in for their usual Tuesday sit-down with therapist Jayden. Summer keeps a hand's width between her and Jezabel on the couch like the air might burn her. Jezabel taps her foot and sighs—seven months and they still haven't made it past second base without a coaching session. Jayden smiles, crosses her legs, and lays out the trick. "Close your eyes, Summer. Just picture everything you’re too shy to do and tell us out loud." Jezabel squeezes Summer’s knee. "It’s make-believe, babe. No pressure." Summer slips her silk blindfold on. The moment her lashes hit the fabric, Jayden and Jezabel grin like kids who found the cookie jar open. They slide closer, lips inches apart. "Start easy," Jayden murmurs. "Tell us about a kiss." Summer swallows, then talks: slow, shaky, almost reverent. She pictures her tongue gliding against Jezabel’s bottom lip, gentle at first, then hungrier, tasting, coaxing, tasting again. Meanwhile, Jayden tips Jezabel’s chin and follows the play-by-play like stage directions, lips parting, tongues dueling just as Summer describes. Summer keeps narrating. The kiss goes lower—noses nuzzling collarbones, fingers sliding under the hem of a dress. Her words paint fingers skating up thighs, cupping curves. Jezabel and Jayden race to match it: buttons undone, straps tugged, soft mouths busy on round breasts, teeth grazing nipples. Every dirty detail spills out in Summer’s innocent voice while the other two turn the couch into a playground right in front of her sightless smile. Jezabel’s low moan masks a laugh when Jayden’s fingers dip between her legs and hit the rhythm Summer just named. The duo moves faster as Summer, blissfully clueless, spells out exactly what she’s too shy to watch them doing.