Freshman year.
New school. New dorm. New rules.
But Maya hadn't expected her new life to begin with a soundtrack of soft gasps and stifled moans behind the wall.
The first time it happened, she thought it was just the floor above.
The second time, she realized it was coming from her own room.
And the third time she pressed her ear to the thin curtain separating her bed from her roommate's side and listened.
Her roommate Amira was wild in all the ways Maya wasn't. Confident. Carefree. A second-year with tattoos she traced like stories on her skin, and a laugh that made everyone turn around.
They weren't close. Amira kept to herself and came home late. But one night, Maya woke up to soft breathing, ragged, rhythmic, intimate.
Then came the whisper.
"Harder…"
A second voice joined in. A girl's.
Maya's thighs clenched involuntarily.
She shouldn't be listening.
She shouldn't feel wet just hearing it.
She shouldn't imagine her roommate's fingers curling between another girl's legs.
But she did.
Maya lay still in her bed, wide-eyed, breath shallow, heart racing. The moans got louder, rougher. Wet sounds echoed. A headboard creaked. She bit her lower lip and squeezed her thighs together, trying not to touch herself.
Then someone whispered, "She's listening."
The sounds stopped.
Maya's entire body tensed.
Footsteps.
Amira's curtain was pulled back slowly.
She stood there half-naked, sweat-slicked skin glowing under the dim light, her lips parted in amusement. A girl behind her, tangled in sheets, flushed and panting.
"You liked that, didn't you?" Amira asked softly.
Maya couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Her blanket clung to her chest like a barrier.
"You could've said something," Amira murmured, climbing onto Maya's bed like a lioness stalking her prey. "You want to try?"
"You liked what you heard." Amira leaned in, their faces inches apart.
"I... I don't know," Maya whispered.
"Yes, you do," Amira said, brushing her lips across Maya's cheek. "And you want to feel it. Don't you?"
Maya didn't answer with words.
She just nodded.
The blanket slid away.
Amira's hands pushed up her camisole, exposing soft skin. Her mouth followed, kissing gently then lower. She looked back once more.
"Come join us," she called out.
The other girl still naked rose from the bed and crawled across to Maya's side like a kitten in heat. Her fingers found Maya's hand, guiding it to her own chest.
"You're so pretty when you're nervous," she said.
And together, they began to undress her. Slowly. Lovingly.
No rush. No shame. Just wet kisses and soft sighs and fingers that knew where to touch.
Maya gasped when Amira's tongue reached her inner thigh, arching up into every sensation. She clutched the pillow, her moans tangled with theirs.
They made love like a ceremony. With Maya in the center.
When she came shuddering, crying out into the dimly lit room both girls were holding her, kissing her, tasting her like something divine.
By dawn, Maya had forgotten who she was before that night.
There was only Amira's mouth, the wet trail down her stomach, and the feel of another girl's tongue exploring places Maya didn't know could feel that good.
And when Amira whispered, "We do this every weekend," Maya smiled sleepily and replied,
"Then I'm never going home."