Go to her place

Julia stands at once. The wine sits untouched. She does not look back at the table or the waiter. Peta rises with her, still holding her hand, and the two women walk out of the restaurant together without another word.

The drive is short. Peta’s house sits behind a high hedge in a quiet pocket of Beverly Hills, modern and secluded. She unlocks the front door, steps aside for Julia, then closes it behind them and turns the deadbolt. The air inside is cool and still. No children, no staff, no husband. Only the soft click of Peta’s heels on the hardwood as she leads Julia deeper into the house.

They stop in the living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out onto a private garden. Peta turns to face her. For a moment neither speaks. Then Peta reaches up and slowly unbuttons the top of Julia’s cream blouse, one button at a time, until the fabric falls open and the lace of her bra is visible.

“I’ve wanted this,” Peta says, voice low. “Every time you leaned in too close at lunch. Every time you looked at my mouth when you thought I wouldn’t notice.” She slides the blouse from Julia’s shoulders and lets it drop. “Tell me to stop and I will. Otherwise I’m going to keep going.”

Julia’s answer is a quiet, shaky breath. She does not tell her to stop.

Peta’s hands move to the zipper of Julia’s skirt. It loosens and slides down her hips. Julia steps out of it, standing now in only bra, panties, and heels. Peta’s dark eyes travel over her slowly, openly. Then she reaches behind her own back, unzips the white dress, and lets it fall. She is wearing nothing underneath. Tall, full-breasted, smooth and confident, she steps forward until their bodies almost touch.

“Practice starts now,” she murmurs, and kisses Julia.

The kiss is soft at first, then deeper. Peta’s tongue slides against hers. Her hands settle on Julia’s waist, then rise to unclasp the bra. Julia’s breasts spill free. Peta breaks the kiss only long enough to look down at them before lowering her head and taking one tight nipple into her mouth. Julia’s hands find Peta’s hair. A soft sound escapes her throat.

Peta guides her backward until the backs of Julia’s knees meet the wide sofa. She eases her down, kneels between her spread thighs, and hooks her fingers into the sides of the lace panties. Julia lifts her hips. The panties are drawn away and discarded. Peta looks at the already glistening folds in front of her and smiles.

“You’re soaked,” she says. “Was that for the headmaster… or for me?”

She does not wait for an answer. She leans in and drags her tongue in one long, slow stroke from the bottom of Julia’s cunt to her clit. Julia’s head falls back against the cushions. Her thighs open wider of their own accord.

Peta settles in, licking and sucking with focused hunger, two fingers sliding inside while her tongue works the swollen bud. Julia’s hips begin to rock. The wet sounds of Peta’s mouth fill the quiet room. Every stroke pulls another soft cry from Julia’s lips. She is already close, the morning’s earlier releases doing nothing to dull the sharp new need building under Peta’s tongue.