Tart

(nsfw)

It was cold to the touch, ice cold, as the recipe required. I had prepped beforehand; the butter to the freezer, the flour and sugar sifted, it falling soft as breath against the hairs on the back of my hand, spilling across the kitchen counter. From the next room I heard the aching, breathy moans emitting from the stereo speakers, a refrain both unspea…