Almost Caught at the Spa

Christie stood in the small back office while her new boss laid down the law. The woman had already fired girls for playing around on the job. No second chances. Christie nodded, eager to prove herself, then watched the door shut behind her boss. She smoothed the clean white sheet on the table, dimmed the lights, and waited. Lana arrived minutes later. She slipped her blouse off her shoulders, let her bra follow, and climbed facedown onto the table. Christie started at the base of her spine, pressing slow circles with both palms. Her thumbs found a knot, worked it loose. Lana murmured something low. “A little higher, and to the sides. Near my tits.” Christie’s hands paused, then moved. Each stroke brushed the swell of soft flesh. Lana sighed, then grabbed Christie’s wrists and pressed her hands fully onto her breasts. “That’s better,” Lana whispered. Christie kept her voice calm. “I should move. The other areas.” “Then do my ass.” Christie’s fingers slid down, hesitant, over the smooth curve of each cheek. Lana lifted her hips, urging the touch between. Christie’s fingertips grazed the warm, wet center. Lana growled with impatience. She sat up, snatched Christie’s hand, and planted it squarely against her slick pussy. “Don’t stop.” Christie darted a glance at the door. Lana slipped off the table, crossed the room in two strides, and turned the lock with a soft click. The air seemed thicker now. “Come here,” Lana said, climbing back onto the padded surface. She lay back, spread her thighs, and tugged Christie’s head between them. Christie’s tongue met her at once, tasting, circling, sinking deeper while Lana rocked her hips against that eager mouth. Lana pulled away only long enough to strip Christie’s uniform off. Oil gleamed in her palm as she poured it across Christie’s chest, massaging the oil into her nipples until they stiffened, then sliding lower until slick fingers parted her folds. The two women stretched out on the narrow table, thigh over thigh, pussy pressed to pussy. They rolled and ground, breath short, until wet heat and friction pushed them both over the edge in the same shuddering rush. Outside the locked door, knuckles rapped sharply. Christie’s new boss called her name once, twice. The message was clear. The job was gone. But Christie lay sprawled, still slick and spent, with Lana’s thigh draped over her own, and decided it had been worth it.