Running A Lil Late

Lady Monroe trained as a ballet dancer. On the side she stripped. Her lower back throbbed after years gripping the pole. She had never tried massage before and worried every touch would bruise. Cameron Dee arrived late, grinning, and promised her hands would feel like silk. Clothes slipped off. Lady lay facedown, skin pale against the sheet. Cameron drizzled warm oil across her shoulders. Tan fingers pressed deep. They traced the long line of her spine, circled each hip, then slid between her thighs. The graze over shaved lips pulled Lady upright. Too close, she said. Cameron smiled, promised the ache would melt. She climbed onto the table, breasts brushing Lady's, mouth capturing hers. Fingers worked each nipple until they stood hard. Then the trail of kisses began. Down ribs, across trembling belly. Cameron parted her folds with a soft lick and stayed there. Her tongue worked in slow circles, tasting, stroking, pushing until Lady's thighs locked and her moan broke open. The massage ended with her still shaking.