Dark
Glass

After the last fitness class empties out, I leave the studio dark. She's still on the weight bench, back to me, hand already working between her thighs, watching herself in the mirror. Her reflection meets mine and she says, 'You can stay.' So I do. I stay and watch her come undone to her own rhythm, breath fogging the glass, eyes locked on mine the whole time. Afterwards she rises, walks over, pushes me onto the same bench and rides me slow and deep while we both watch ourselves in the dark mirror—me first, her following a minute later, forehead pressed to mine, still moving until the aftershocks stop. We never turn the lights back on.