Simony's Perfect Service

Simony stands behind the glass counter, her hips cocked, watching. She does not blink. Amber Pearl stands between two shelves of boxed dildos, pulls up her short skirt and tugs her thong aside. The new silicone vibrator glides in with a wet sound that carries over the low hum of the shop’s air-conditioning. Her thighs are pale and open. One heel taps the tile. She fucks herself in short, deliberate strokes, never looking at the cash register. Simony’s tongue touches the inside of her lower lip. She does not look away. Amber’s breathing stays even until her wrist gives a little twist and the toy finds its angle; then her belly flinches, once, twice. She presses her free hand flat against the shelf, steadying herself, slick already shining on her inner thighs. Simony’s palm lifts from the counter, slides down the front of her own skirt, and squeezes hard. The metal edge bites against her hip. Neither woman speaks. The toy hums louder.