Making Her Assistant Watch

Dee refuses to clock out. Even with the massage table waiting, her fingers fly across her phone, firing last-minute emails. Her assistant Jaye hovers in the hallway, counting down the minutes until her boss finally surrenders. Then the door opens—Cassidy steps in, confident and professional, and Dee surprises everyone by ordering Jaye inside with her. Once the door shuts, Dee peels away the silk blouse and skirt without ceremony, stripping down to a delicate black bra and thong. Jaye’s eyes betray her despite herself; she forces them back to her notes. Dee climbs onto the table, facedown, and resumes dictating deals as though she weren’t almost naked. Cassidy warms the oil in her palms and begins the long strokes down Dee’s spine. Every knot she loosens earns another low, needy sound from Dee’s throat. Jaye shifts on her feet. The sounds land between her own thighs and she hates how quickly heat blooms there. Her boss—her untouchable, driven boss—twists gently beneath oil-glistened hands, hips lifting in pleasure. Cassidy glances at Jaye, a wicked little smile tugging at her lips, but she says nothing. Dee rolls onto her back, eyes half-lidded. “You’re distracted,” she murmurs. “Want to help?” Jaye doesn’t trust her voice, so she nods. Two quick buttons later, her own blouse pools at her ankles. The oil is slick and warm as she presses her palms to Dee’s shoulders, sliding in tandem with Cassidy. Dee’s breasts fill Jaye’s hands; the tight tips bead under her thumbs. Dee’s soft groan breaks something inside her. Cassidy guides Jaye lower. Together they work down Dee’s stomach, over her hips, until Jaye’s mouth hovers above the glistening strip of hair between her boss’s thighs. She hesitates, heart hammering, then gives in—dragging her tongue once, slow and full, tasting salt-slicked skin and the richer sweetness beneath. Dee’s thighs fall open, hips lifting for more, voice breathless. Cassidy moves to Dee’s breasts, sucking one nipple while her hand takes the other, pinching in time with Jaye’s greedy licks. Heat fogs every corner of the room. Bodies shift and slide, oil and sweat mingling as hands roam without order. Jaye finds herself on her back next, Cassidy’s tongue buried between her thighs while Dee straddles her mouth, grinding against her tongue, fingers tugging Cassidy’s hair. Every muffled moan, every wet curl of tongue, chases the last scrap of tension from Dee’s shoulders and plants it right between Jaye’s legs until no one remembers who’s giving and who’s receiving—only that the break is theirs and it’s far from over.