The Receptionist Returns

The second Dillon Harper crossed the threshold, Aaliyah Love locked onto her like prey. No hesitation. Aaliyah stayed at her desk, smirk curling as her fingers worked the buttons on her blouse. Nothing underneath—nothing at all—and the air thickened once the shirt hit the floor. Dillon’s face flared red. She shifted her weight, eyes darting, unsure where to land. Aaliyah didn’t care. She leaned back, spread her thighs, let the scent of her arousal drift between them. The receptionist ran a fingertip along her own slick seam and brought it to her lips, savoring the taste while Dillon watched, frozen. Veronica Avluv stepped in smooth as silk. Low voice. Easy smile. Guiding hands that soothed Dillon’s trembling shoulders. For a moment the room relaxed. Then Aaliyah reappeared, nothing but heels and a grin, skin flushed, nipples tight, the soft sound of her pussy audible with each step forward.