A low sound blooms in Rose’s throat. It’s a blend of approving and skeptical. “See that you do.” Her lips move to smooth over she skin of Pearl’s shoulder -- ringed red from a harsh kiss. Rose’s mouth forms a gentle seal over the flesh, and she sucks, just lightly. “You’ve been sloppy all evening. I’d like to be kind, if you could only straighten up.”

She might go on fondling Pearl’s cute little butt all night (with swats, when appropriate), but Rose’s left hand sets to drifting once again. Fingertips branch: savoring the slight swell and fall of Pearl’s belly from her quickening breaths.

As her hand pets down along the slender waist, the stream of water begins to creep higher along Pearl’s thighs.

It’s a cruel move, she knows. But Rose is growing impatient. Wants Pearl to crumble, and quickly -- wants to prize ripe whimpers and tender pleas.

As hand and water move to meet (goddamn these clothes), Rose nuzzles closer against Pearl’s fevered neck: sets to teasing the soft shell of ear between her teeth.

The stream of hot water dips upwards, brushing against the neat thatch of peach-colored hair, just as fingertips feather to meet it.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve left a mess for me here, too.”