Roomie's Racket

Alison sits in front of her laptop, waving through a boring Zoom call, when loud moaning from down the hall cuts her off mid-sentence. Her roommate and her girlfriend are already rattling the headboard—again. The meeting drags on while slaps and giggles get louder, forcing Alison to mute and grit her teeth through every "uh-huh, thanks for that" while the bed bangs against drywall. Call finally ends. Fired up and a little red-faced, Alison stomps down the hallway to tell them to quit it. Only the door’s wide open. Her jaw drops. Mocha’s arched on all fours, bare ass bouncing, while Ember rides her face—both slick, both loud. Heat prickles up Alison’s neck, and before she knows it her fingers slip under her shorts. She stays hidden behind the jamb, rubbing quick, wet circles, breath shallow. Then her elbow knocks the door frame. Ember’s eyes flick up, sticky grin widening. Caught, Alison tries to backpedal, stammering nonsense. After a short silence and some shared glances, Mocha winks, patting the mattress beside her. "You came to complain, huh? How about you hop in instead?" Ember offers, crawling forward. Alison hesitates a second, then steps inside, door clicking shut behind her. Apology turns into a three-body tangle—hands, tongues, giggles—as her forgotten laptop screen dims two rooms away.