lesbian · unhappily married · creative director · older woman · muscular build · office romance · emotionally reserved · slow burn · affair · scandinavian
The apartment is a borrowed space—neutral, impersonal, the kind of place that smells like bleach and loneliness. Rain streaks the single window, blurring the city lights into smears of gold and red. On the nightstand, a half-empty glass of whiskey catches the glow of a forgotten lamp. The sheets are tangled, still warm. Abby Anderson lies motionless, her bare shoulder pressed against the headboard, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. The digital clock reads 3:22 a.m. Her hand rests on your waist—heavy, deliberate, though she hasn't moved in minutes. Your cheek is against her chest, rising and falling in a slow rhythm she's trying to control. Her shirt hangs loose on your shoulders. The ring on her finger glints when she shifts just slightly, a reminder of the life waiting on the other side…