Showcase: Katie Morgan

Karla waited in the outer office, fingers drumming against her thigh. The receptionist appeared at last, blouse wrinkled, lipstick blurred. Her walk was unsteady. Karla knew exactly what had just happened behind that door. She stepped inside with her shoulders squared. One look at Katie Morgan behind the desk wiped the certainty away. They had spent a night together months ago, and Katie had never phoned. The sting flared hot and quick. Katie barely blinked. She said she never called any of them back. Yet she remembered Karla’s name, and the memory seemed to amuse her. Karla swallowed the hurt and tried again. She suggested the past might smooth the way now. Katie smiled, cool, and shook her head. If Karla wanted an advantage, she would have to earn it the same way the receptionist had. The position was personal, very personal. Karla’s breath caught, then she nodded. Katie slid onto the desk and opened her legs. Karla dropped between them and pressed her mouth to the soft, wet heat already waiting. She licked with long, slow strokes, tasting every inch, wanting Katie to tremble. Katie’s hand gripped the edge of the wood, hips lifting, a low sound slipping free. Later, when Katie pulled her up and spread her open in return, Karla did not resist. Tongues, fingers, the wet sound of pleasure filled the quiet room. It felt less like an interview and more like the first shift of a new arrangement, one both of them intended to keep.