Maid For Each Other: Office Cleaning

Dee Williams slouches behind her desk, long past quitting time, shoulders tight, eyes burning from the glow of her laptop. She slides off her glasses, rubs the bridge of her nose. In slips Scarlett Sage, dancing in a janitor’s uniform with headphones clamped to her ears, swinging hips, dust rag trailing like a bright scarf. Dee lifts her head and freezes. The girl moves with casual, barely-there heat—lazy rolls of her ass, subtle, owning the rhythm without trying. Dee’s teeth catch her bottom lip hard. Then Scarlett glances up, sees she’s not alone, yanks the headphones off, face flashing hot with shame. Dee waves it away, tells her to keep working, tries to glue her stare back to the screen. Doesn’t last. Scarlett bends and stretches, cotton skirt hugging every curve, and Dee’s pulse ticks louder than the clock. She needs the girl’s eyes on her now. Her hand flicks, knocking a glass so the water arcs across the blotter. Scarlett hurries over, drops to her knees to wipe. There’s more underneath, Dee says, voice low. Scarlett ducks beneath the desk and that’s when the skirt peels up, legs spread. Bare cunt meets warm breath, soaked panties a whisper from Scarlett’s mouth. The cleaner’s breath stutters. She loves them, she blurts. Dee’s fingertip traces slow circles right over the damp fabric. Why don’t you get a better look? Scarlett’s lip drags between her teeth; she leans in and licks, wet silk dragged aside, tongue sliding deep. The desk lamp throws sharp shadows across both of them. The city lights outside keep their secrets while Scarlett works her tongue in slow, greedy strokes, tasting every promised benefit of staying late.