Transit, 42 Part 1 (Patreon)

The sharp ring of Lori's smartphone pulled her from the haze of her thoughts, vibrating insistently against the sheets. She fumbled for it, her fingers brushing across the smooth screen, feeling an unexpected ease as her manicured nails made contact. The weight of her body pressed into the bed, each inch feeling foreign yet charged with a peculiar warmth that spread from her core.

Without glancing at the screen to check who was calling, she lifted the phone to her ear, her voice slipping out instinctively. “Hey, babe,” she purred, her tone low and almost flirtatiously rough. She paused, startled by her own voice—a sound that felt so unlike her, yet rolled off her tongue as naturally as breathing.