Should I Tip?

Natasha White walks into the all-girl massage parlor nervous, new, clutching at the idea of firm hands on her legs. India Summers already moves with quiet certainty, the kind that comes from years spent reading bodies. Natasha asks for attention on her inner thighs and lies back, skin bare and taut. India starts slow, palms gliding across youthful flesh. When she slides two fingers through Natasha's smooth slit and feels her clench in approval, neither woman bothers pretending it is an accident. India's free hand presses Natasha's thigh wider. She leans in, tongue tracing tan lines until it finds Natasha's swelling clit, then dips lower to taste the tight heat inside. Natasha has never given back, so India shows her, fingers guiding the younger tongue in slow circles until the rhythm catches, wet and insistent, pulling soft, broken sounds from India's throat.