❝ and who said anything about going home, flower? ❞ not to hers, and not anytime soon. lips the color of her wine curled into a sweet, almost motherly grin that touched at her mouth and reached for caroline’s eyes. glowing, narrowing just enough to show her interest. when was the last time she had refused a kiss? or two, or three. the more - the better —- the more - the easier it was for caroline to forget. to leave the horrors of her troubled past behind, to lose herself in the moment and flirt with the young woman that sat across the table from where she was. cheeks flushed, golden curls cascading past blanche’s shoulders and all the way down to her chest. beautiful, delicate like the very hold of caroline’s fingers around a burning cigarette. the same cigarette that was brought to her lips, one final drag before the tragic woman stubbed it out on a crystal ashtray and crossed her legs under the table.

a lipstick smear marked the spot where caroline had kissed her, and she bent over the table once again to gently, barely touching her, wipe it away with the pad of her thumb. feeling the skin that resided there, taking her sweet time to make sure it was all gone. ❝ there. can’t have you walking around with that thing on your face, can we? ❞

but why the hell not?