"WHAT'S THIS?" CLARENCE WHISPERS.
At the lowered lilt of her voice, Casselba turns on the white divan to face her. She follows the woman's eyes to where they rest over her hip. Clarence's fingers run in smooth circles over the tender flesh, playing in caresses against her brown skin.
"What is it?" Clarence asks again, her eyes intent on the curve of Casselba's hips.
They'd just spent the better part of an hour sinking into each other. Casselba had felt so utterly loved she'd taken the rest of that intense hour to calm her breathing. It'd been fireworks with Clarence, and now she just basked in the aftermath.
The slow unbroken melody of some rapper wanders into the room through the tinted glass walls. Apart from the languid pulsing of the music, Casselba can hear nothing else. Clarence rests besides her on the comfy bed, a tangle of red sheets covering parts of their bodies.
Seeing Casselba isn't about to offer an answer, Clarence goes on.
