Massage Supply Call

Courtney walked into Summer's Spa like she owned the place. Supply rep. Drop-dead gorgeous. The kind of woman who makes small talk feel like foreplay. She was pitching a new massage oil. Summer listened, half-smiling, already intrigued. They ended up alone. The rest of the staff had left for the afternoon. Empty spa. Quiet rooms. No excuses. Courtney suggested a demonstration. Her hands moved with precision, pressure perfect, fingers firm where they needed to be. Summer let out a low sound. Not quite a moan. Almost. The oil warmed under Courtney's touch, slick and fragrant. Summer asked why someone this skilled sold oil instead of using it full-time. Courtney kept rubbing. Her answer came slow. She liked what happened after the massage ended more than the massage itself. Liked undressing them. Liked what came next. Summer didn't flinch. She just shifted, spread her legs wider, and let Courtney finish what she'd started. Courtney's mouth found her fast, tongue working deep, unhurried but greedy. Summer's fingers tangled in her hair and stayed there until her thighs shook.