Mae I Have It Deep Please?

Sabina Rouge stood behind the front desk when Scarlett Mae walked in. The moment their eyes met, something shifted. Sabina kept her hands busy with paperwork, but her gaze kept drifting back to the quiet confidence in Scarlett’s stance, the clean lines of her face, the way her body moved without apology. They made it to the private room. Sabina shut the door and turned, voice steady as she asked Scarlett to undress. She tried to look away, counted the bottles on the shelf, named each oil in her head, but her eyes returned anyway, catching the slow slide of fabric off skin. A glimpse of breast, the curve of an ass, a stretch of stomach tanned and smooth. Then Scarlett climbed onto the table and pulled the towel over herself. Sabina poured warm oil into her palms, rubbed them together until it spread slick across her fingers. She started at Scarlett’s shoulders, pressing deep, feeling muscle give beneath her hands. Down the spine, across the shoulder blades, back up again. The towel stayed in place at first. Then Sabina’s thumbs found a knot just above the waist, worked it loose, and the fabric slipped an inch. More skin. She didn’t cover it. Scarlett breathed out, low and slow, hips shifting just enough to press into the table. The towel came off next time Sabina reached her thighs. Scarlett didn’t protest. Oil glistened along the backs of her legs, between them, higher. Sabina’s hand lingered at the top of the thigh, close enough to feel heat radiating off her cunt. Scarlett’s breath caught. Sabina pressed forward, fingers brushing close, then closer. Scarlett’s legs parted, subtle but clear. When Sabina’s oiled fingertips finally slid between, Scarlett pushed back into the touch. No words. Just the wet sound of skin against skin and the steady drag of Sabina’s fingers over swollen folds. Scarlett’s hips rolled once, then again, chasing the pressure. Sabina leaned in, breasts brushing Scarlett’s back, lips near her ear. The massage table creaked as Scarlett lifted, opening herself wider. Oil and slick mixed. Every stroke came faster, heavier, until Scarlett’s thighs shook and her breath broke on a sharp gasp.