Imagine the scene: Gianna Dior, her heart heavy with a mix of emotions, leads her lifelong confidante, Darcie Dolce, into the sanctuary of her bedroom. As they settle onto the plush bed, Gianna lets out a sigh, her face etched with a troubled expression that belies her jest, "It's not THAT serious, right?" Darcie, ever the loyal friend, isn't buying it. She knows Gianna's tells, and today, something is definitely amiss. With a dramatic flourish, she demands, "What's he done this time?!" Their laughter fills the room, a brief respite from the tension. Gianna hesitates, her fingers tracing the pattern on her comforter. She's frustrated, she admits. Her boyfriend, Darcie's own twin, has been distant, his presence fleeting. Darcie nods, acknowledging that he's been more flaky than usual. Gianna's relief is palpable; she's not alone in noticing his absence. But there's more. She produces a cheesy, unredeemed massage voucher, a birthday gift from him, from her dresser. Their schedules never align, she laments. One would think he'd be eager, given the implied promise of intimacy! Darcie, ever the problem solver, snatches the voucher, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Redeem it with me," she declares. After all, she's his twin; it's practically the same thing, right? Gianna laughs, uncertain, but Darcie is insistent. She wants to help her friend relax, to chase away the tension that's made its home in Gianna's shoulders. And so, the performance begins. Darcie's hands, strong and confident, start to knead Gianna's shoulders. The tension there is unmistakable, and Gianna admits, it's been a while since she's felt anyone's touch. Darcie clucks her tongue, unsurprised. Guys, she says, they just don't get it. They're not in tune with their feelings, not like girls are. Gianna's intrigued, her curiosity piqued. What's it like, she asks, to be with girls? Darcie's answer is simple: it's better. Girls understand each other, they know how to please one another. The room grows warmer as Darcie's hands grow bolder. She tugs playfully at Gianna's clothes, encouraging her to shed them. They're best friends, after all; it's not like they haven't seen each other in their underwear before. Gianna hesitates, flustered by the physical contact, but she agrees, trying to play it cool. Off come her shirt and pants, mirrored by Darcie's own disrobing. Gianna lies down on her front, her body language a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Darcie straddles her hips, her hands beginning their dance across Gianna's back. The massage is sensual, more so than Gianna expected. Her eyes widen in surprise, then flutter closed in pleasure. She can't help but moan softly, her body arching into Darcie's skilled touches. When she turns onto her back, face-to-face with Darcie, her fluster grows. But Darcie is confident, her mission clear. She massages Gianna's front, her breasts, drawing out pleased reactions from deep within Gianna. But then, Gianna's eyes flicker open, guilt written across her face. The massage has stirred desires, thoughts of sex, but her boyfriend isn't here. Darcie, undeterred, echoes her earlier words. She's his sister, she argues playfully. That's close enough, right? Besides, Gianna said it herself: the voucher includes sex. Darcie wants to ensure Gianna gets the full package. Starting with a kiss. Their lips meet, and Gianna's uncertainty is swept away by Darcie's confident, experienced kiss. She trails kisses down Gianna's neck, her breasts, her hands slipping down to palm Gianna's pussy. Gianna is lost, her body aching for more. And Darcie delivers, her fingers expertly playing Gianna's body, her tongue eagerly exploring her most intimate places. Gianna is a live wire, her body sparking with pleasure as Darcie shows her just how much better it can be with girls. Their bodies entwine, their moans fill the air, and Gianna can't help but think, maybe Darcie was right. Maybe this is what she's been missing. Maybe, just maybe, this is the appeal of sticking with girls. Their performance is a dance, a give and take, a exploration of pleasure and intimacy. And as Gianna's body arches one last time, her climax crashing over her, she knows: this is a performance she won't soon forget. The room is filled with their shared pleasure, their laughter, their friendship. And as they lie there, bodies entwined, Gianna knows: this was exactly what she needed. A massage by proxy, indeed.