[vague, but also a ten minute pause between that next and the next while she tugs her panties and jeans back on. she balances her phone against whatever he's got beside his bed (vodka, probably) and hits record. there's a wide view if his bed and bedroom and Jem kneeling in the middle of the pillow-blanket nest she's managed to make in twenty minutes.
first to go are the jeans, unbuttoned slowly and then dragged down over her thighs while she shifts to tug them all the way off. next is his shirt, each button undone methodically before she slips it off her shoulders and opens it up to bare breasts and black underwear. she let's it fall behind her and then turns, dragging her hair over her shoulder before she hooks her thumbs into her underwear and slips them slowly over her backside and down her thighs.
[she's squinting, leaning in close to her phone, because-]
That's not food, Petre.
[but okay, she's still hoping for food. there's some blurred movement while she sets her phone down back where it was. she stays on her side, fingers playing with the edge of the the shirt, teasing it over a breast. this is wildly out of her comfort zone; Petre's much better at putting on a show than she is. but; she circles a nipple with a finger before pinching it between her forefinger and thumb.
catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she shrugs the shirt off completely and rolls onto her back, let's her eyes slip closed. it's easier to pretend that he's in the room with her, rather than being stuck at work. palming at a breast, she squeezes and shifts her hips, bending a knee. ]
I didn't say it was food, I said you could eat it. [where is the lie...
And feigning boredom for the sake of being a bored employee, Petre can't help the curl of his lips and a sharper inhale as her hand begins to work. It's a nice show, for what it's worth; pity he can't be there with her. Let's just hope she isn't too good at it. Still don't wanna have a boner at work. Or maybe he does? Something to think about while he licks his lips.]
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how hard are you gonna spank me if i don't get dressed and then show you me taking it all off?
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wait
not
hard?
i'm confused
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are we still good? cause we got like 40 minutes left to go
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[vague, but also a ten minute pause between that next and the next while she tugs her panties and jeans back on. she balances her phone against whatever he's got beside his bed (vodka, probably) and hits record. there's a wide view if his bed and bedroom and Jem kneeling in the middle of the pillow-blanket nest she's managed to make in twenty minutes.
first to go are the jeans, unbuttoned slowly and then dragged down over her thighs while she shifts to tug them all the way off. next is his shirt, each button undone methodically before she slips it off her shoulders and opens it up to bare breasts and black underwear. she let's it fall behind her and then turns, dragging her hair over her shoulder before she hooks her thumbs into her underwear and slips them slowly over her backside and down her thighs.
and then reaches over to hit 'stop' and 'send']
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maybe a little too good
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who knows what wild demands you'll make next
[low key horny tbh]
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tell you to use your hand like it was my hand
and show me what you want me to do to you
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what kind of girl do you think i am mr dodrescu??
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you're also my girl, which says a lot
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but what's in it for me
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1/2
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always
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[insert generic skype ring tone. she's got the shirt back on, but hasn't bothered buttoning it up. ]
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[and she calls, yay. She'll see a lot of colors behind him. And probably be able to tell that he's in a sex shop that isn't Oscock. What a mystery!
He's leaning over the counter, pretending there's nothing interesting to see on the phone. Because he's supposed to be working, gosh.]
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That's not food, Petre.
[but okay, she's still hoping for food. there's some blurred movement while she sets her phone down back where it was. she stays on her side, fingers playing with the edge of the the shirt, teasing it over a breast. this is wildly out of her comfort zone; Petre's much better at putting on a show than she is. but; she circles a nipple with a finger before pinching it between her forefinger and thumb.
catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she shrugs the shirt off completely and rolls onto her back, let's her eyes slip closed. it's easier to pretend that he's in the room with her, rather than being stuck at work. palming at a breast, she squeezes and shifts her hips, bending a knee. ]
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And feigning boredom for the sake of being a bored employee, Petre can't help the curl of his lips and a sharper inhale as her hand begins to work. It's a nice show, for what it's worth; pity he can't be there with her. Let's just hope she isn't too good at it. Still don't wanna have a boner at work. Or maybe he does? Something to think about while he licks his lips.]
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