I made it
The Factory was eerily quiet now, the soft hum of activity from earlier replaced by stillness. The studio lights had been switched off, leaving only the glow of the warm overhead fixtures. The scent of perfume and fabric still lingered in the air.
Lisa leaned against the counter, sipping her wine, the cool satin of her robe brushing against her skin. She’d thrown it on after the shoot, the adrenaline from posing and playing model still buzzing under her skin.
Carla stood a few feet away, carefully packing up the last of the shoot’s wardrobe, her movements meticulous. But Lisa had been watching her long enough to notice the way she was avoiding eye contact.
"You were off earlier," Lisa finally said, setting her glass down.
Carla stilled, just for a second, before continuing to fold. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Lisa let out a soft scoff. "Carla."
Carla exhaled sharply through her nose, still not looking at her. "It was just a long day."
Lisa studied her for a moment, then pushed off the counter, closing the space between them. "Bullshit."
Carla’s jaw tightened. "Lisa—"
"No," Lisa cut in, voice quieter now. "Something was up. You looked like you saw a ghost when Dani showed you that picture, and don’t tell me it was just stress."
Carla finally met her eyes, something flickering behind them. The air between them grew heavier, charged.
Lisa took another step closer.
"Talk to me."
Carla’s lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something, but before she could—
A sharp knock echoed through the Factory.
Lisa blinked.
Carla blinked.
Then—
"Pizza!" a voice called from the other side of the door.
Lisa let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Right. That."
Carla smirked, brushing past her toward the door. "You forgot I promised you food, didn’t you?"
Lisa sighed, shaking her head. "I was kind of distracted being a lingerie model, thanks."
Carla chuckled as she grabbed the box and handed over the cash. The second the door shut, she turned back to Lisa, holding up the pizza with a teasing glint in her eye.
"Still off?" she asked.
Lisa rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips.
They sat at the small table near the counter, pizza box open between them, wine glasses half-empty. The Factory felt quieter now, the hum of the earlier photoshoot replaced by an intimate stillness.
Lisa leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs out with a satisfied sigh. “Okay. You win. This was a good idea.”
Carla smirked, swirling her wine lazily. “I usually have good ideas.”
Lisa shot her a look. “Debatable.”
They ate in easy silence, the weight of the evening slowly settling into something comfortable. The wine had taken the edge off, leaving Lisa pleasantly warm, her limbs loose.
Then she shifted slightly, and a sharp prick pressed against her back.
She frowned, rolling her shoulders. There it was again—something small but persistent, digging into her skin.
“What the hell—” Lisa muttered, setting her glass down and reaching awkwardly behind her.
Carla glanced up, brow arching. “Problem?”
Lisa sighed, twisting in her seat. “Something’s poking me.” She ran a hand along her back, fingers searching, but she couldn’t quite reach.
Carla concerned at her own talent in sewing, set her wine aside and stood, stepping around behind Lisa. “Here, let me see.”
Lisa hesitated, but then she felt Carla’s fingertips brush her shoulder blades and neck while removing her satin dressing gown. Lisa’s stomach dropped with the touch as she gave in, letting her hands drop to her lap.
“Hold still,” Carla murmured.
Lisa stilled.
Carla’s fingers ghosted down the length of Lisa’s spine, searching carefully. Lisa inhaled sharply, the warmth of Carla’s hands sending an unexpected shiver down her back.
“I think it’s caught in the clasp,” Carla said, voice softer now, more focused.
Lisa reached for the tie of her robe, slipping it off her shoulders until the satin fell to the floor. The cool air kissed her bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Carla standing behind her.
Carla’s breath hitched.
“Can you unclasp it?” Lisa asked, her voice quieter now.
Carla hesitated for just a second before her fingers moved, brushing against Lisa’s back as she undid the hooks. The tension of the band released, and Lisa exhaled slowly, feeling her pulse in her throat.
A beat of silence. Then—
Carla made a soft noise of realization.
Lisa glanced over her shoulder. “What is it?”
Carla held up something small between her fingers, turning it in the light.
Lisa blinked.
Her earring.
“You lost this,” Carla said, her voice almost amused.
Lisa huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “How the hell did it end up there?”
Carla smirked slightly, rolling the earring in her palm. “Must’ve fallen off during the shoot and gotten caught under the band.”
She reached forward, placing it in Lisa’s hand, as Lisa held onto Carla’s finger just a second longer than normal.
Lisa should have moved. She should have put the earring down, adjusted her straps, pulled her robe back up.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she stood there, satin robe around her feet and her bra left unclasped. her fingers curled around Carla’s wrists, bringing them to wrap around her stomach like the satin string of her gown did.
The air shifted.
Carla was still behind her, close enough that Lisa could feel the pounding of Carla’s heartbeat bouncing off her back. Carla’s hands hovered just near Lisa’s waist, hesitant, unsure.
Lisa inhaled slowly, steadying herself, then reached down, guiding Carla’s hands until they rested lightly at her hips.
She didn’t turn around.
She didn’t have to.
“Carla,” Lisa murmured, her grip tightening just slightly. “I’ve never felt more confident”
Carla’s breath hitched.
Lisa felt it—the way Carla stiffened for just a second, the way her fingers flexed against her waist like she wasn’t sure whether to pull away or pull her closer. She knew from the blonde’s embrace and words that she was thanking her for that.
Lisa swallowed, voice barely above a whisper. “You did that.”
Carla exhaled shakily. Then, so softly Lisa barely caught it—
“I made it for you.”
Lisa’s grip tightened just slightly. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
“What?”
Carla hesitated, but then she leaned in, just enough for Lisa to feel the warmth of her breath against the back of her shoulder.
“The set,” Carla murmured. “I made it for you.”
Lisa’s chest rose and fell a little quicker now.
“You—” She turned her head slightly, just enough to see Carla’s face in her periphery. “You made this?”
Carla nodded. “Every stitch.”
Lisa’s fingers flexed over Carla’s, gripping her hands at her waist, her body suddenly hyper-aware of everything. The lace hugging her curves, the delicate straps barely holding her together, the fabric that Carla had spent hours stitching with her in mind.
A slow, dangerous sense of realization settled over Lisa.
Carla had wrapped her in something that had come from her own hands. The very thing keeping her naked body from Carla was that stitched from her own hands.
Lisa exhaled, pressing her palms over Carla’s, pushing back just slightly, enough that Carla felt it—enough that there was no mistaking the shift in the air, the weight of what was unspoken between them.
Carla didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.
And Lisa was done waiting. She turned, catching Carla’s gaze in the low light, something thick and heady settling between them.
Then, with no hesitation this time, she reached up, fingers tangling in Carla’s hair, and pulled her into a kiss.
Carla let out a sharp breath against Lisa’s lips, her fingers tightening at Lisa’s waist. For half a second, she was still—then she melted, pressing forward, her hands gripping at Lisa like she had been waiting just as long.
Lisa deepened the kiss, tilting her head, feeling the way Carla responded, the way her hands finally moved—fingertips skimming along Lisa’s waist, tracing over the fabric she had made, before slipping just slightly under.
Lisa let out a soft noise against her mouth, heat pooling low in her stomach as Carla pulled her in closer.
The Factory felt impossibly small now.
Lisa was drowning in warmth, in the weight of Carla’s touch, in the intoxicating thrill of knowing there was nothing between them now except for the delicate fabric that Carla had made just for her.
And Lisa didn’t want to stop.
Not now.
Not after this.