Like Two Shifts In The Night

Queenie Sateen and her girlfriend Codi Vore share an apartment but keep missing each other. Codi clocks out from retail at the same time Queenie straps on her guard belt for the graveyard shift. Lucky for them, Codi walks in right as Queenie is slipping her uniform blouse over a lacy bra. One soft kiss turns into a gripe session on the rumpled bed about cracked feet and thieving customers. Mid-sentence they stop—how long has it been since they’ve actually sat like this? Too long. The clock still has twenty spare minutes. Queenie’s pants are still on the chair. Clothes, therefore, seem optional. They tug the half-buttoned blouse off her shoulders, slather each other in that citrus body oil on the nightstand, and dive in. Lips slide, fingers wander, tongues tease. They tumble through a messy knot of thighs and giggles, switching who’s on top like they’re racing the last grain of sand in an hourglass. Every breathy moan and wet slide reminds them how much they needed this exact minute.