The rooftop was velvet and gold.
Strings of warm Edison bulbs hung overhead, casting soft shadows across the skyline. Laughter drifted like smoke. Somewhere, a DJ spun low, pulsing house beats. Bodies moved in clusters — glowing, drunk on night and desire.
Mika walked in alone.
But not uninvited.
She wore a satin slip in midnight blue — backless, thin straps barely holding the fabric against her skin. No bra. No panties. Her body was a whisper of invitation, wrapped in confidence.
She was here for Alina.
They hadn't seen each other in a month.
Their last meeting — a private afternoon in a garden suite — had left Mika flushed for days. Alina was older, refined, intoxicating. She had a way of touching without touching, of speaking in caresses.
And now, she wanted to play in public.
Mika spotted her near the bar.
Alina wore a deep burgundy pantsuit, fitted to perfection. No shirt underneath. Just the suggestion of skin between folded silk lapels. Her hair was up. Her eyes — dark, calculating — lit up when they met Mika's.
She didn't move right away.
She just drank her wine, slow, savoring.
Mika walked to her, hips swaying in time with the beat.
"Dangerous," Alina murmured as Mika leaned in for a cheek kiss. "No underwear?"
Mika smiled. "You asked me to be bold."
"I did," Alina said, her voice like velvet. "And I intend to punish you for obeying."
They sat at the bar, drinks sweating in their hands, knees brushing now and then.
Alina's energy was precise — every word deliberate, every glance engineered to seduce.
"I like this setting," Mika said, sipping a French 75.
Alina smirked. "I like the risk."
Her fingers grazed Mika's bare thigh — slow, possessive. Mika parted her legs just slightly. Enough.
"Do you want everyone to see?" Mika asked, eyes daring.
"I want them to want," Alina replied. "But only I get to touch."
That hand slid higher.
Mika exhaled sharply — her thighs tensing under the bar. The cool air hit her flushed skin, but Alina's fingers were fire.
"You're already wet," Alina whispered, voice barely audible over the music.
"Your fault."
Alina pulled her fingers away — licked them. Slowly. Eyes never leaving Mika's.
"You taste like surrender."
They danced next.
Or pretended to.
In truth, it was just an excuse to press their bodies together.
Alina's hand slid around Mika's waist, guiding her into a slow grind — hips circling, breasts brushing.
Mika melted into it, her head resting briefly on Alina's shoulder.
"Tell me," Alina said, lips against Mika's ear. "Have you ever been fingered in public?"
Mika shivered. "Not yet."
"Do you want to?"
Mika turned her head, breath warm against Alina's neck. "Yes."
Alina took her hand.
Led her through the crowd, up a short stairwell, and onto the private terrace above the main rooftop — a quieter space with tall plants and low couches. Still public. Still visible.
But secluded enough.
Alina sat first, legs crossed.
"Come here."
Mika obeyed, straddling her lap, arms around her neck.
Their mouths met — soft at first, testing. Then deeper. Alina's tongue found hers, teasing, claiming. One hand gripped Mika's hip. The other slid between them.
She slipped two fingers inside — just like that.
Mika gasped against her lips, body jolting. No teasing this time. Just deep, firm, perfect pressure.
"I've missed you like this," Alina murmured, fingers curling inside her.
Mika grinded against her palm, moaning softly.
Lights from the rooftop glowed behind them. Music pulsed in the distance. Somewhere, someone was laughing — dangerously close.
Mika didn't care.
She was dripping onto Alina's hand, thighs clenching, hips rocking.
Alina bit her lip, watching her ride.
"You're being such a good girl," she whispered. "Look at you — riding my fingers like no one can see."
"Anyone could," Mika moaned.
"Exactly," Alina said, and kissed her again.
Mika couldn't breathe.
She was open, spread over Alina's lap, riding the slow thrust of her fingers like a tide she couldn't control. The cool night air licked her heated skin while Alina's hand pushed deeper inside her, curved perfectly to hit every fluttering edge of her pleasure.
"You're soaked," Alina whispered. "You'll ruin my suit."
"Then don't stop."
Alina smiled, dark and wicked. "You'll beg soon."
Mika did — in movement if not words.
She gripped Alina's shoulders, head falling back, grinding herself into that relentless hand. Her moans came faster now, breathier, higher-pitched, escaping into the warm summer air with no regard for who might hear.
And someone might.
The upper terrace wasn't hidden, only elevated. Anyone leaning too far over the rail, or walking past the tall shrubs to the left, could glimpse her — legs parted over a suited woman's lap, breasts nearly slipping from her dress, flushed cheeks glowing in the city lights.
But that only made it hotter.
Alina leaned forward, her mouth finding Mika's nipple — sucking it through the thin satin, biting just enough to make Mika cry out.
"Alina—fuck—"
"You're close, aren't you?" Alina purred against her skin. "You want to come, don't you? Here. On my lap. With strangers ten feet away?"
Mika gasped, nodding frantically.
"Then do it," she said. "Come for me. Let them hear how good I make you feel."
Alina pressed her palm against Mika's clit, still pumping deep inside. Mika's hips stuttered, her whole body tightening like a drawn string—
She came in a flood.
Her legs shook, her moan muffled against Alina's shoulder. Her dress clung to her damp skin, the scent of her arousal rising between them. Alina held her through it, fingers slowing but never stopping, dragging every last ripple from her.
And then — she pulled her hand out.
Mika whimpered at the sudden emptiness.
Alina licked her fingers again, slowly, deliberately.
"You taste better than memory," she said.
But it wasn't over.
Alina laid Mika back on the low couch, tugging the thin straps from her shoulders. The dress slipped down, exposing her bare chest to the open night. Alina stared for a long moment — eyes devouring.
Then she knelt between her legs.
"You don't get to rest yet."
Mika gasped when Alina's tongue met her clit.
Soft, slow, swirling.
Alina licked her like a meal — savoring each flick and drag, lips tight, tongue purposeful. She sucked Mika's clit into her mouth and fluttered her tongue until Mika bucked beneath her.
Alina gripped her thighs tighter and moaned into her.
The sound vibrated through Mika's body like electricity. She arched off the couch, fingers knotted in Alina's hair, lost to the rhythm of it — wet, messy, beautiful.
"You're…god, you're too good at that—"
"Mmm."
Alina pushed two fingers back inside and kept licking — double pressure, deep and sharp and overwhelming. Mika's second orgasm hit like a wave crashing onto pavement. Her legs shook violently. She tried to close them around Alina's head, but Alina didn't let her.
She held her open.
Made her feel everything.
Made her come again.
And again.
Later, they lay side by side, Mika's head on Alina's chest, both of them breathing hard. The rooftop crowd had drifted farther away, though the music still pulsed like a heartbeat under their skin.
Mika turned her head. "Do you always seduce women in public?"
"No," Alina said, stroking her hair. "Only when I want to ruin them a little."
Mika laughed softly, her voice raw from moaning. "You're a terrible influence."
Alina kissed her temple. "And you're delicious when you're disobedient."
They stayed there a while longer, quiet, surrounded by the scent of sex and jasmine and rooftop cocktails. For Mika, the world felt suddenly lighter and darker at once — the pleasure too much, the risk too real, and yet…
She wanted more.
And she knew now: she was willing to pay for it.