Interrupted by Emily

The velvet curtain jerked aside with a sudden swish of fabric. Emily's silhouette filled the gap, her golden hair haloed by the dim lighting. Her blue eyes flicked from John's flushed face to Victoria's scandalous position straddling his lap—the younger girl's emerald dress still bunched around her waist, her bare thighs glistening with arousal against John's ruined slacks.

Victoria scrambled off John's lap with a startled, her fingers fumbling to yank the silk dress back over her exposed skin. "Emily!" she chirped, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her skirt with trembling hands. "We were just—"

"—taking yearbook photos," John finished hoarsely, his voice cracking on the last word. He shifted to discreetly adjust the throbbing erection straining against his damp trousers, but Emily's sharp gaze tracked the movement instantly.

Emily's fingers tightened around the curtain fabric, her knuckles whitening against the deep crimson velvet. For one deliciously tense moment, the photo booth remained suspended in silence—Victoria's flushed face frozen in mid-adjustment, John's fingers still hovering near his ruined zipper, Emily's breath caught somewhere between indignation and arousal.

"Oops," Emily finally murmured, her pink lips quirking into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She tilted her head, letting golden strands of hair fall artfully across one shoulder as she surveyed Victoria's disheveled state. "Am I interrupting something?" The lilt in her voice was pure honeyed innocence, but her blue eyes burned with something sharper as they traced the damp patch darkening John's slacks.

Victoria's recovery was impressively smooth—one hand casually smoothing her emerald skirt back into place while the other tucked a stray lock of mahogany hair behind her ear. "Yearbook photos like we said," she chirped, flashing Emily a smile that showed just a hint of teeth. "Principal Lee was just... demonstrating school spirit."

"How...nice," she purred, stepping fully into the booth without waiting for an invitation. The cramped space **** her to press against John's other side, her hip bumping his thigh with deliberate familiarity. "You don't mind if I join, do you?" Her eyelashes fluttered as she glanced between them, the picture of wide-eyed enthusiasm. "For the yearbook.”

Victoria's fingers twitched at the hem of her dress before she **** a laugh—too high, too bright—and ducked past Emily in a rustle of silk. "Actually, I just remembered I promised Mary I'd help with—board games," she stammered, her usual poise fracturing as she brushed past them.

The velvet curtain swayed shut behind her, plunging the booth into sudden silence. Emily didn't move, her breath warm against John's cheek where she stood wedged between him and the booth's wall. The distant thump of bass underscored the rapid hitch of her breathing, the way her fingers flexed against the curtain still clutched in her hand.

Then she moved.

Without a word, Emily pivoted smoothly onto John's lap—replacing Victoria's warmth with her own. Her knees bracketed his thighs with practiced precision, the ruffled hem of her blue dress pooling around them both. John opened his mouth—to protest, to question—but Emily silenced him by pressing a finger to his lips, her blue eyes dark with intent.