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Spun Silk

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The silk is slick and cool and soft, and Linda gasps as Iris’ well-practiced ministrations secure one of the ribbons around her wrists, holding them together behind her back with a tight bow; Iris’ hands are light and gentle in Linda’s hair as she pulls the sleep mask down over her eyes before pressing a kiss to her shoulder from behind and starting to unbutton her thin silk blouse, which she leaves hanging open afterwards.

Linda leans back against her with a quiet moan, and bites her lip as she hears the zipper of Iris’ pencil skirt being undone. The skirt falls to the floor with a swooshing sound, and Iris sits back on her bed, carefully pulling Linda onto her bare lap.