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I’d interviewed Sonia a few times before, sharp, composed, that cool intellectual armour she wore like a second skin. But tonight was different. We were both at the same after-party for a media awards thing, the kind where the champagne flows too freely and the conversations get looser. She was in a fitted black dress that hugged her curves in a way her usual tailored blouses never did. I caught her eye across the room and something shifted. I decided I was going to have her.

I made my way over, touching her arm lightly as I leaned in to speak over the music. “You were brilliant on the panel earlier,” I said, letting my voice drop a little lower, a little warmer. “But you always look so… restrained. Don’t you ever want to just let go?”

She laughed, but I saw the flicker in her eyes. We talked for a while, policy, feminism, sex work, and I kept steering it towards the personal. I told her how much I admired her mind, but that I’d been thinking about her body too. Bold. Direct. Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t walk away.

Later, when the party thinned, I invited her back to my hotel suite for “one last drink.” She hesitated, then said yes.

The door had barely clicked shut before I stepped close, sliding my fingers into her hair and pulling her into a kiss. She stiffened at first, then melted with a soft, surprised moan. I tasted the wine on her tongue and pressed my body against hers, letting her feel how much I wanted this.

“You’ve been wound so tight for so long,” I whispered against her mouth. “Let me unwind you.”

I walked her backwards to the bed, pushing her down gently. Her dress rode up her stockinged thighs as I climbed over her, kissing down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin until she gasped. My hands roamed, cupping her full breasts through the fabric, pinching her nipples until they were stiff peaks begging for attention. I yanked the dress down, and pushed her bra up, exposing the flesh of her soft, warm breast, latching my mouth onto a nipple, sucking hard while my fingers teased the other.

“Ranvir…” she breathed, half protest, half plea.

I slid lower, removing her dress completely, peeling her knickers off and spreading her legs wide. She was already wet, glistening. I looked up at her flushed face and smirked. “Look at you. The proper Guardian columnist, dripping for me.”

I buried my face between her thighs, licking long and slow at first, then faster, licking her clit until it popped out of its sheath and into my mouth. Sonia’s hands fisted the sheets, her hips bucking as I fucked her with my tongue, two fingers curling deep inside her, stroking that spot that made her cry out. She came, thighs clamping around my head, soaking my chin with a filthy gush that surprised even her.

But I wasn’t done.

I stripped quickly, straddling her face. “Your turn. Eat my cunt, Sonia.”

She hesitated only a second before her tongue darted out, tentative then eager, licking through my folds as I ground down on her mouth. I rode her face, smearing my juices over her lips and chin while I reached back and fingered her again. The sounds were obscene, wet slurping, her muffled moans, my own filthy encouragement.

“Deeper. Fuck, yes, just like that, you dirty girl.”

I came grinding on her mouth and tongue, my back arching as the orgasm ripped through me, I flipped around into a sixty-nine, both of us devouring each other. I pushed her legs apart further, licking down to her tight little arsehole, rimming her while I rubbed her clit. She shocked me by coming again almost instantly, shuddering and whimpering my name.

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