Below, on the floor of the booth, Veronica stirred.
The sounds had reached through the black.
She came back through layers — first sound, then sensation, then the wet warm of the shower floor against her face, then the weight of her own body, then the recognition of the sounds above her. The specific sounds. The sounds of a man fucking someone nearby with full committed rhythm.
She opened her eyes.
She saw the floor first. Then her own hands. Then, above her, framed by the running water, two pairs of feet — Raven's and the older woman's — and between them, visible in the gap, the thick heavy swing and retraction of his cock driving into the blind woman's pussy from behind.
The soft dark hair.
