My Stepsister Moved Into the Guest Room at Thirty novel · Chapter 19 of 24
Chapter 19: Supply Closet
At eight fifty on Wednesday morning, the roof was crowded with folding chairs, string lights and a caterer unpacking trays of tiny quiches.
The garden committee stood in a clump near the tomato beds, arguing about benches.
Flora, in a navy skirt and a white blouse, was holding a clipboard and a walkie-talkie.
I was in my good slacks and a blazer.
I had come straight from the hospital after a night I did not want to describe.
She saw me cross the roof.
She said into the walkie-talkie, "Give me five minutes," and she took my wrist.
"Where are we going?"
"Supply closet."
"Flora, it's a rehearsal."
"It's a rehearsal, and I've had you on my mind since Sunday, and you walked in here in that blazer."
She pulled me through the stairwell door and down half a flight.
There was a gray metal door marked STORAGE.
She had the super's key in her pocket, and she opened it with one hand and shoved me inside with the other.
The door clicked shut.
It was dark and narrow, about the size of a pantry, with metal shelves, a mop bucket, a stack of cardboard boxes.
A bare bulb that she pulled on by its string.
The yellow light swung back and forth over her face.
She pushed me up against the shelves and kissed me hard.
I kissed her back with my hands already under her skirt, and I found her bare under it, and I made a sound.
"I knew you would," Flora said. "I didn't put anything on."
"You walked around the rooftop like this in front of the caterer."
"Quick," she said. "Five minutes. Make me come."
"Turn around."
She turned, and she put both palms flat against the shelf.
I hiked her skirt up to her waist.
Her ass was round and pale and freckled in the swinging light, and her thighs were already slick.
I slid my right hand between them from behind and stroked the full wet length of her.
"Oh God," she whispered. "Yes."
I rubbed her clit in firm quick circles with the pads of two fingers.
Her knees buckled, and she pushed back into my hand.
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