You Rang, M'lady?

Zazie Skymm dragged the feather duster across another shelf when the summons came. Her employer stood in the doorway, crisp blouse open at the throat. Heat coiled low in Zazie's belly. She followed her to the sofa. The older woman sank back, legs parting over the leather. Zazie knelt between them, tongue already working. Hands anchored at soft thighs, mouth locked on heat. Each flick drew a sharp breath. Each suck pulled the younger girl's nipples tight under her tiny uniform. Sweat beaded at her nape. Fingers threaded into Zazie's hair, guiding pressure, keeping her there. Silence broke only by wet sounds and slow, deliberate moans. Outside, leaves brushed the window. Inside, skin met skin and the room smelled like sex and wood polish. Zazie worked her jaw, took every shudder and gasped thrill, never lifting her mouth until the tremors finally faded.