[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.]
[She says that with her head turning to the side, mouth smirking and her eyes peaking open just enough to squint. They slip closed again a moment after, while her hands get to work teasing around her breasts. She pictures his hands, much warmer than her own, pinching hard at her nipples, just enough to border close to painful without making it there.
She pictures his mouth kissing down her chest, down to her navel and a hand follows the trail, fingers teasing along her skin as she shifts her hips. Sighing softly, Jem's thighs part wider while her fingers trace down between her legs, right down between her folds. The views obscured, she knows, by her legs. But maybe this better, leaving a little to his imagination. ]
[And now he grins, effectively fighting off laughter.]
Not that, either. Though it should.
[At least he doesn't claim it's delicious, even if he's thinking it. What's the point in arguing when she's doing such a good job entertaining him. It's true that it's best left to imagination, too, by the way he tilts his head and narrows his eyes softly, lips curling at the corners.]
[Her hands are much colder, raising the hairs on her skin with every touch. But they'll warm quick enough the more she works herself. Right now it's mostly teasing; she inches a finger in, curling up into herself slightly with a sigh.]
Better, [she says after a moment, completely straight faced for three whole seconds before she grins and ruins it.
She starts a slow rythym, reaching down with her other hand to part her folds with two fingers. She starts slow and steady before she adds another in.] How's work? [conversational, like she isn't fingering herself.]
[She grins and laughs, a breathless one, while she works her fingers up to her clit. Slow still, lazy and languid while she works a finger in a slow circle.]
That's a shame. You've only got fifteen minutes left.
[Her breath catches, eyelids fluttering just for. moment.] Ah - could always leave early.
[But so early into having a job! What a bad impression. Then again, in a club full of perverts, who could blame you for ditching work to go bone your girlfriend.]
You're gonna miss some of it anyway, on your way here.
[She turns her head, flashing a grin at her phone. What are fifteen minutes anyway? Nothing, really.
She works her fingers a little faster, pressure firmer and more precious. A hand comes away to tease at a breast and her hips shift and roll in a short sharp movement. The noises she makes aren't nearly as loud as they usually are. If anything, they're slightly bitten off sighs, reserved and forced quiet, like she's trying hard to be discreet. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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[She says that with her head turning to the side, mouth smirking and her eyes peaking open just enough to squint. They slip closed again a moment after, while her hands get to work teasing around her breasts. She pictures his hands, much warmer than her own, pinching hard at her nipples, just enough to border close to painful without making it there.
She pictures his mouth kissing down her chest, down to her navel and a hand follows the trail, fingers teasing along her skin as she shifts her hips. Sighing softly, Jem's thighs part wider while her fingers trace down between her legs, right down between her folds. The views obscured, she knows, by her legs. But maybe this better, leaving a little to his imagination. ]
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Not that, either. Though it should.
[At least he doesn't claim it's delicious, even if he's thinking it. What's the point in arguing when she's doing such a good job entertaining him. It's true that it's best left to imagination, too, by the way he tilts his head and narrows his eyes softly, lips curling at the corners.]
Are they as nice as my hands?
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Better, [she says after a moment, completely straight faced for three whole seconds before she grins and ruins it.
She starts a slow rythym, reaching down with her other hand to part her folds with two fingers. She starts slow and steady before she adds another in.] How's work? [conversational, like she isn't fingering herself.]
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[WiLL YOU JEM?!]
Work's just fine. Kinda slow right now. [Slow get it. Like your hands. eyy.]
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That's a shame. You've only got fifteen minutes left.
[Her breath catches, eyelids fluttering just for. moment.] Ah - could always leave early.
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[But so early into having a job! What a bad impression. Then again, in a club full of perverts, who could blame you for ditching work to go bone your girlfriend.]
But I don't wanna miss the show now.
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[She turns her head, flashing a grin at her phone. What are fifteen minutes anyway? Nothing, really.
She works her fingers a little faster, pressure firmer and more precious. A hand comes away to tease at a breast and her hips shift and roll in a short sharp movement. The noises she makes aren't nearly as loud as they usually are. If anything, they're slightly bitten off sighs, reserved and forced quiet, like she's trying hard to be discreet. ]
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So I know what my hands are doing... [let me consider like the creep I am.] What about my mouth.
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