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Presley Hart’s apartment flooded. Bad enough. She books a massage to unknot the day. Dani Daniels steps in—tall, tanned, with eyes already taking notes. Presley peels off everything. Pale skin. Small breasts. Hips that shift slightly when she settles, stomach fluttering with each touch. Dani’s palms glide oil along her thighs, working slow, deliberate strokes that edge higher, brushing the crease of Presley’s shaved cunt before sliding away again. Presley answers with a quiet grind, rocking her hips into the table as wet heat grows between her legs. Flipped, eyes half-closed, she reaches up and pulls Dani’s towel loose. Their rhythm builds, unhurried, breaths syncing. Only when neither of them can stand it does Dani kneel, tongue pressing open Presley’s slick folds while Presley’s fingers slide deep inside Dani in return, wet skin meeting wet skin in slow, wet suction until both women break apart, gasping.