Quit Slacking Off

Christie's business is blowing up, so she needs another body. Evelyn slides in through the temp agency with bulletproof reviews and a steady stare that says she can handle the load. Ten minutes on the clock and the story collapses. The girl barely lifts a finger, just stares at screens and sighs when asked to do basic shit. Christie finally snaps, calls her in for a one-on-one. The lecture bounces off Evelyn like she's made of glass, but when Christie reaches for the phone to dial the agency Evelyn suddenly leans forward, eyes sharp and hungry. She slips around the desk, pushes Christie back against the filing cabinets, and drops to her knees. No hesitation, no apology. Tongue sliding hot and wet between Christie's thighs, fingers prying her open, finding the spot that makes Christie's hips jerk against the wood. Evelyn works her mouth like she means it, slow then faster, like the rest of the day never happened. Christie grips the edge of the desk, breath torn between anger and want, watching the woman's bare shoulders flex with every deliberate lick. The folders drop, the temp paperwork forgotten, Christie's thighs trembling around Evelyn's face as her need finally drags the sound out of her throat.