It began with a cherry and ended with a duel.
Bliss stood at the front of the mirrored room in a flowing red robe, wielding a lollipop like a conductor's baton. "Today," she purred, "we explore the erotic potential of your mouths. Lips, tongue, breath—your entire face is a sensual playground."
Maxie blinked. "Are we making out with strangers?"
"No," Bliss said. "We are making art with our tongues. Controlled chaos. Precision passion."
The group was partnered up. Maxie found herself opposite a sultry, silver-haired Italian named Valentina, whose tongue had been described in the welcome packet as "a certified UNESCO World Heritage experience."
"Begin," Bliss commanded, as sultry jazz filled the air.
At first, it was innocent. Just a strawberry passed between mouths without hands. Then a frozen grape. Then a licorice whip held between their lips like a fencing sword.
Maxie giggled. "This is oddly intense."
Valentina winked. "You haven't lived until you've had a duel of dominance with sour gummy worms."
It escalated.
There were tongue curls, lip flicks, and one moment where someone recreated the Eiffel Tower using only breath and synchronized moaning.
"Use your tongue like a paintbrush," Bliss called. "Your partner's palate is your canvas."
Maxie tasted whipped cream. Valentina responded with a sweep of warm caramel. Someone nearby made dolphin noises and received applause. Someone else tied a knot in a cherry stem and was promptly recruited for international diplomacy.
Maxie tried the cherry stem thing. It ended in a small coughing fit and Valentina performing the Heimlich in a disturbingly sensual way.
"Good save," Maxie wheezed.
"I aim to please," Valentina whispered.
Later, the group moved on to a silent exercise: communicating desire with no words, just breath, touch, and tongue choreography. Maxie was amazed at how much could be said without speaking. She learned Valentina once fell in love in Santorini, hated aniseed, and thought Maxie's upper lip had 'noble instincts.'
Tongues flicked, lips brushed, and Bliss clapped with satisfaction.
"To know someone's mouth," she said, "is to taste their story."
By the end of the session, Maxie was flushed, breathless, and holding a popsicle that had melted into suggestive art on her blouse.
"Next week," Bliss declared, "we'll incorporate fruit-flavored oils and interpretive slurping."
Maxie wasn't sure if she was aroused or just dehydrated. Possibly both.
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Journal Entry:
> Step Seventeen: I dueled with licorice, lost to a cherry stem, and discovered tongue-based storytelling is real.
Valentina said my mouth had potential. I think that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me.
PS: I might need lip balm. Industrial strength.