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The night air was thick with humidity and the distant thrum of bass from nearby clubs. Shasha stood on the curb, watching the taillights of the cab disappear into traffic, carrying Gorya away from her. Again.
"Stop walking," Shasha had interrupted, arms crossed, chin lifted in that defiant way that made her look untouchable even when she was breaking. "I just want you to come home with me"
Gorya's eyes had flashed with anger. "Don't do this again, otherwise.. my anger will turn into hatred."
And then she was gone, the cab door slamming with a finality that echoed in Shasha's chest.
Shasha stood there for a moment, the sting of rejection burning under her skin. Then she straightened her shoulders, adjusted her silk blouse, and turned on her heel. She wasn't going to stand on a street corner feeling sorry for herself. That wasn't her style.
Ant's bar was just down the block, its warm light spilling onto the sidewalk. She'd been there a many times; good drinks, decent music, the kind of place where you could disappear into the crowd or find exactly what you were looking for.
Tonight, she needed the latter.
The bar was moderately busy for a weeknight. Shasha walked in with that effortless confidence that turned heads without her trying, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She ordered a whiskey neat and leaned against the bar, scanning the room with practiced ease.
That's when she saw her.
Tall—taller than Shasha by a few inches; with sharp features and an expression that could freeze vodka. She stood near the far end of the bar in a crisp black button-up tucked into tailored trousers, looking like she'd come straight from a boardroom and was debating whether to stay or leave. Her posture was rigid, shoulders tense, one hand wrapped around a glass of something clear.
Shasha's lips curved into a slow smile. Perfect.
She picked up her drink and made her way over, sliding into the space beside the woman with the kind of casual intrusion that only worked if you had the confidence to pull it off.
"You look like you're about to fire someone," Shasha said, her voice cutting through the ambient noise. "Rough day at the office?"
The woman turned her head slowly, dark eyes assessing Shasha with the kind of cool detachment that probably made subordinates squirm. Up close, she was even more striking; high cheekbones, full lips pressed into a thin line, an air of controlled irritation.
"Do I know you?" she asked, her tone flat.
"Not yet," Shasha replied smoothly, extending her hand. "Shasha. And you are?"
The woman hesitated, then shook her hand briefly. "Wine. Wine Vethaka."
"Wine," Shasha repeated, letting the name roll off her tongue. "Fitting. You look like you could use a drink. Or three."
Wine's eyebrow arched slightly. "I have a drink."
"Vodka soda," Shasha observed, nodding at the glass. "Safe choice. Boring, but safe."
"And what would you recommend?" Wine asked, her tone dry but not entirely dismissive.
Shasha signalled the bartender. "Two whiskeys. Neat. The good stuff."
Wine didn't protest, which Shasha took as a small victory. When the drinks arrived, Shasha slid one toward her and raised her own glass.
"To rough days," Shasha said.
Wine's lips twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. She clinked her glass against Shasha's and took a sip, her expression unchanging.
"So," Shasha continued, leaning one elbow on the bar, "what does Khun Wine do when she's not looking like she wants to murder spreadsheets?"
"Accounting," Wine said simply.
"Ah. Numbers. That explains the permanent scowl."
"I don't scowl." she frowned.
"You're scowling right now."
Wine's jaw tightened, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "And what do you do? Model? Influencer? Professional nuisance?"
Shasha laughed, genuinely delighted. "Model, actually. But I like to think I'm a professional nuisance in my spare time."
"I'm sure you excel at it."
"I excel at a lot of things," Shasha said, her voice dropping just slightly, enough to add weight to the words.
Wine took another sip of her drink, her gaze steady. "Subtle."
"I don't do subtle."
They fell into conversation more easily than Shasha expected. Wine was sharp, her dry humour cutting through Shasha's teasing like a blade. She didn't give much away; just hints of a stressful project, an incompetent sales manager who was also her friend with benefits and the kind of corporate bullshit that made people drink alone on a Tuesday night. But she didn't shut Shasha down either, and that was enough.
Shasha kept the banter light, playful, just flirtatious enough to keep Wine engaged. She could see the tension in Wine's shoulders, the way she held herself like she was afraid to let go. It was a challenge, and Shasha loved a challenge.
Especially tonight. Especially when the alternative was thinking about Gorya's taillights disappearing into the dark.
After the second round of drinks, Shasha leaned in slightly, her voice low and deliberate. "Okay, real talk. Are you drunk?"
Wine blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "What?"
"Are you drunk?" Shasha repeated, her tone serious despite the casual setting. "I need to know."
Wine set her glass down, her expression shifting to something more guarded. "No. I've had two drinks over the course of an hour. I'm not drunk."
"Good," Shasha said, her smile returning. "Because I'm about to invite you back to my condo for an afterparty, and I need you to be sober enough to say yes or no."
Wine stared at her for a long moment, her dark eyes searching Shasha's face. "You're serious."
"Dead serious." Shasha's confidence didn't waver. "My condo's five minutes away. No strings, no expectations. Just.. a distraction. For both of us."
Wine's lips parted slightly, and for a moment, Shasha thought she might actually say yes. But then Wine shook her head, a small, almost regretful smile tugging at her mouth.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
Shasha tilted her head, undeterred. "Why not?"
"Because I don't know you. Because this is quite frankly-" Wine gestured vaguely between them. "-insane."
"Insane can be fun," Shasha countered. "And you look like you could use some fun. When's the last time you did something just because you wanted to?"
Wine hesitated, and Shasha pressed her advantage.
"Look," Shasha said, her voice softening just enough to sound genuine, "I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm asking you to come have a drink at my place. If you hate it, you can leave. No hard feelings."
Wine's jaw worked, her fingers tapping against the bar. Shasha could see the war playing out behind her eyes, logic versus impulse, control versus surrender.
"Come on," Shasha coaxed, her smile turning playful again. "Live a little. What's the worst that could happen?"
Wine exhaled slowly, then drained the rest of her drink in one go. "Fine. One drink."
Shasha's grin was triumphant. "One drink."
---
The cab ride was quiet, charged with unspoken tension. Shasha sat close enough that their thighs almost touched, her hand resting casually on the seat between them. Wine stared out the window, her posture still rigid, but Shasha could see the way her fingers curled against her knee, the way her breathing had shifted.
When they arrived at Shasha's building;a sleek high-rise with floor-to-ceiling windows and a doorman who nodded politely, Wine's eyebrows rose slightly.
"Modelling pays well, I see," she said dryly.
"I'm good at what I do," Shasha replied with a shrug, leading her inside.
The elevator ride was silent, the air thick with anticipation. Shasha could feel Wine's eyes on her, could sense the hesitation warring with curiosity. When the doors opened on the top floor, Shasha led her down the hall to her condo, unlocking the door with a practiced ease.
The space was exactly as Shasha had left it; minimalist and modern, with dark hardwood floors, white furniture, and those massive windows overlooking the city lights. It was designed to impress, and from the way Wine's gaze swept the room, it was working.
"Make yourself-"
Shasha didn't get to finish the sentence.
Wine's hand shot out, grabbing the front of Shasha's blouse—no, her tie, the thin black tie she'd worn to the event earlier. Wine yanked her forward, and suddenly they were kissing, hard and desperate, all pretence of control evaporating in an instant.
Shasha gasped against Wine's mouth, her back hitting the door as it swung shut behind them. Wine kissed like she did everything else; precise, demanding, with an intensity that left no room for hesitation. Her tongue slid against Shasha's, her teeth catching Shasha's lower lip, and Shasha responded with equal fervor, her hands fisting in Wine's shirt.
They stumbled backward, still kissing, Wine's height giving her the leverage to guide Shasha across the room. Shasha's heels caught on the edge of the rug, and they half-fell, half-collapsed onto the expensive white couch in the center of the living room.
Wine landed on top, straddling Shasha's hips, and the shift in position sent a jolt of arousal straight through Shasha's body. Wine was taller, her frame lean and strong, and the way she loomed over Shasha—dominant despite the uncertainty flickering in her eyes.. was intoxicating.
"Fuck," Shasha breathed, her hands sliding up Wine's thighs. "You're full of surprises."
Wine didn't answer. She just kissed her again, harder this time, her hands working at the buttons of Shasha's blouse with impatient fingers. Shasha arched into her touch, her own hands tugging Wine's shirt free from her trousers, desperate to feel skin.
Clothes came off in a frenzy; Wine's button-up discarded, Shasha's blouse torn open, buttons scattering across the white cushions. Wine's bra was black lace, simple and elegant, and Shasha's mouth went dry at the sight of her small, firm breasts, her nipples already hard.
"God, you're gorgeous," Shasha murmured, her hands cupping Wine's breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples.
Wine's breath hitched, her hips rolling forward involuntarily. "Shut up."
Shasha grinned, cocky even now. "Make me."
Wine's response was to lean down and capture one of Shasha's nipples in her mouth, sucking hard enough to make Shasha cry out. Her hands were everywhere—sliding down Shasha's sides, gripping her hips, working at the button of her jeans with a determination that bordered on frantic.
Shasha lifted her hips, helping Wine pull her jeans and underwear down in one motion. The cool air against her overheated skin made her shiver, but then Wine's hand was between her thighs, fingers sliding through her wetness, and Shasha forgot how to breathe.
"Fuck, you're soaked," Wine muttered, her voice rough with arousal.
"Your fault," Shasha gasped, her hips bucking into Wine's touch.
Wine's fingers circled her clit, slow and deliberate, and Shasha's head fell back against the couch. She could feel Wine's eyes on her, watching every reaction, every gasp and moan, and it was almost too much.
"More," Shasha demanded, her hands gripping Wine's shoulders. "Stop teasing."
Wine's lips curved into a small, dangerous smile. "I thought you liked being in control."
"I'm not usually this submissive, only for taller hot accountants." Shasha smirked followed by a wink.
Wine's fingers slid lower, teasing Shasha's entrance before pushing inside—one, then two, stretching her open. all of Shasha's remarks were lost within her moans, her nails digging into Wine's skin, and Wine set a rhythm that was maddeningly slow, curling her fingers just right with each thrust.
"God, Wine-"
"Say my name again," Wine commanded, her voice low and commanding.
"Wine," Shasha gasped, her hips moving in time with Wine's hand. "Fuck, Wine, please-"
Wine added a third finger, and the stretch was almost too much, almost painful, but then Wine's thumb found her clit and everything went white-hot. Shasha's orgasm built fast and hard, her body trembling under Wine's touch, and when Wine leaned down to suck on her neck; hard enough to leave a mark—Shasha shattered.
She came with a cry, her pussy clenching around Wine's fingers, her body arching off the couch. Wine worked her through it, her fingers gentling but not stopping, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until Shasha was shaking and oversensitive.
When Shasha finally came down, Wine was still straddling her, her hand still between Shasha's thighs, her expression a mix of satisfaction and something darker.. need.
Shasha immediately flipped them with a strength that surprised Wine, pinning her against the white couch. Wine's eyes widened, her breath catching, and Shasha took advantage of her momentary shock to strip off Wine's remaining clothes; trousers, underwear, everything, until Wine was completely bare beneath her.
"You're beautiful," Shasha said, her voice softer now, almost reverent. "And I'm going to make you scream."
Wine's response was cut off by Shasha's mouth on her breast, sucking and biting, her hand sliding between Wine's thighs. Wine was wet—so wet that Shasha's fingers slid through her folds with ease, and the sound Wine made when Shasha's fingers found her clit was the most erotic thing Shasha had ever heard.
"Shasha-"
"That's it," Shasha murmured against Wine's skin. "Let go. I've got you."
She worked Wine with her fingers, slow and deliberate, watching the way Wine's body responded; the way her hips lifted, the way her breath came in short, desperate gasps, the way her hands fisted in the couch cushions. And when Shasha lowered her head and sealed her lips around Wine's clit, Wine's control finally broke.
"Oh god—Shasha—fuck!"
Shasha sucked hard, her fingers sliding inside Wine, curling to hit that perfect spot. Wine's thighs trembled, her back arching, and Shasha could feel her getting close—could feel the way her pussy tightened around her fingers, the way her breathing turned ragged.
"Come for me," Shasha whispered against her. "Let me hear you."
Wine came with a broken cry, her body convulsing, her hands flying to Shasha's hair and gripping hard. Shasha worked her through it, her tongue and fingers relentless, until Wine was whimpering and pushing at her shoulders, too sensitive to take any more.
Shasha pulled back, her lips and chin glistening, and grinned up at Wine. "Bedroom?"
Wine stared at her, chest heaving, eyes dark with lingering arousal. "You're insane."
"And you're still here."
Wine's laugh was breathless, almost disbelieving. "Bedroom."
---
Shasha's bedroom was upstairs, accessible by a sleek floating staircase that Wine barely registered as Shasha pulled her up by the hand. The room was as minimalist as the rest of the condo—a king-sized bed with white sheets, more floor-to-ceiling windows, soft lighting that cast everything in a warm glow.
They fell onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and heated skin. This time, the urgency was tempered by something deeper—a need that went beyond just physical release.
Shasha kissed Wine slowly, thoroughly, her hands mapping every inch of Wine's body. She could feel Wine relaxing beneath her, the tension that had been coiled so tight in her shoulders finally starting to ease.
"You're different here," Wine murmured against Shasha's lips.
"What do you mean?"
"Less.. cocky."
Shasha pulled back slightly, her expression shifting to something more guarded. "I'm always cocky."
"No," Wine said softly, her hand coming up to cup Shasha's cheek. "You're not. Not really."
For a moment, Shasha's mask slipped. She thought of Gorya, of the argument, of the way she'd walked into that bar looking for anything to make her forget. But then she shook her head, her grin returning, sharp and defensive.
"You're overthinking this," Shasha said, her voice light. "We're just fucking. Don't make it more than it is."
Wine's eyes searched hers, and for a moment, Shasha thought she might push. But then Wine's expression shifted, something almost sad flickering across her face before she nodded.
"Okay," Wine said quietly. "Just fucking."
Shasha kissed her again, harder this time, trying to drown out the uncomfortable tightness in her chest. She rolled them over, positioning herself between Wine's thighs, and lowered her head to taste her again.
Wine's hands tangled in Shasha's hair, her hips lifting to meet Shasha's mouth. Shasha worked her slowly, thoroughly, using her tongue and fingers to bring Wine to the edge again and again, only to pull back at the last moment.
"Shasha, please-"
"Please what?" Shasha asked, her voice teasing despite the rawness in her own chest.
"Don't—don't tease-"
Shasha relented, her fingers sliding inside Wine while her tongue worked her clit with ruthless precision. Wine came hard, her thighs clamping around Shasha's head, her cries muffled by the pillow she'd grabbed.
When Shasha crawled back up Wine's body, Wine flipped them again, pinning Shasha to the mattress with a strength that made Shasha's breath catch.
"My turn," Wine said, her voice rough.
She kissed her way down Shasha's body, pausing to suck marks into her skin—her neck, her collarbone, the curve of her breast. When she reached Shasha's thighs, she spread them wide, her dark eyes meeting Shasha's.
"You talk too much," Wine said.
And then her mouth was on Shasha, and Shasha forgot how to form words.
Wine ate her out like she had something to prove, her tongue and fingers working in perfect tandem. Shasha's hands fisted in the sheets, her hips bucking, and when Wine added a third finger and curled them just right, Shasha came so hard she saw stars.
They moved together like that for what felt like hours—taking turns, pushing each other to the edge and beyond, until they were both exhausted and trembling. At some point, the intensity shifted into something softer, more intimate. Wine's kisses became gentler, her touches more reverent, and Shasha found herself responding in kind, her usual bravado slipping away.
When they finally collapsed together, tangled in the sheets, Wine's head resting on Shasha's chest, the silence was heavy with unspoken things.
"You can stay," Shasha said quietly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on Wine's shoulder. "If you want." The loneliness evident in her voice.
Wine was quiet for a long moment. Then she lifted her head, her dark eyes meeting Shasha's.
She studied her for a moment, then lowered her head back to Shasha's chest. "Okay."
They lay like that in the darkness, the city lights casting shadows across the room. Shasha stared at the ceiling, her mind racing, but Wine's steady breathing eventually lulled her into something close to peace.
For tonight, at least, the distraction had worked.
Tomorrow, she'd deal with the rest.