People were chatting, laughing, reading…not noticing (or at least pretending not to notice) the two attractive women sitting together intimately in ...he corner. ‘Now.’ Finally, the floodgates burst. Miranda stiffened in her chair and pulled her panties more urgently against her clit. She gasped, and managed not to cry out, chewing on her knuckle instead. Heather pulled her close in a friendly hug. ‘That’s it, cum for me sweetie.’ Miranda buried her face in Heather’s neck to stifle her quiet. Stepping off the train from Nice, she looked like she had just stepped out of a salon, instead of getting off of a five and a half hour train ride from the south of France. Her hair, worn tight against her head, was perfect, not a strand out of place, showing off her round face. Her makeup was impeccable, lipstick and cheekbones by the book. You had to be intimate with her to see the depth of powder and concealer that covered the dark circles under her eyes and fine wrinkles in the corners of. More

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