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Thunder cackles overhead, but it's hard to be seen from the one small window at the front of the establishment. The bar is hazier than usual tonight. Amber overhead lights and dim neon signs well past their prime decorate the walls, making the haze all the more apparent in the soft luminescence. Distant thunder strikes again, the noise muted from her position behind a bar on the first floor of a solid brick building. Although Vi wipes the laminated wood of the bar and stares idly at the leather booth seating across the way, she wonders if the hardwood furniture dampens the sound at all.
Storms mean either a busy shift or a dead shift, with no in between. Vi’s sight passes over the three whole patrons in the room; Graves, a regular and generous tipper smoking up his own storm system alone in a booth; seemingly deep in thought and likely the reason for the haze. Vi pays no attention to the acrid cigar smell that hangs in the air, rather she’s only annoyed by the dry nose it gives her. Smoke is a gentle reminder of his presence, and at times a comfort to smell. To be able to focus on such a quiet patron is an indication of how much of a grip Vi has on the night, and she basks in the feeling.
She hears a grumble from the other side of the room. Two younger men sit at a table, who were obnoxious earlier in the evening. The alcohol has since sat with them, and they’ve blissfully quieted down. One has his face pressed against the dining table—perhaps unconscious—but Vi doesn’t care enough to squint.
The door chimes ring as the door opens, and the loud footsteps tell her it’s one of her favorite regulars, Sett.
Vi sees him stroll in, drenched at his shoulders but with the same shit eating grin he always has when he has a beefy story from his job clientele. He sits at the bar, is quick to the point, and he holds his liquor well. A real pal. Conversation between them flows, and the lack of customers means she can focus on the night shift cleaning tasks amongst the chat. Cleaning rag in hand, she gives Sett shit for being caught in the rain while in his work uniform. She’s also thankful that he still made his way to say hi to her, and tells him as much.
She squats to wipe inside the fridge under the bar, only to hear a loud crack of thunder unmuffled as the door chimes announce either a new customer or a departure.
Vi still shoulder deep in the minifridge with the rag, can’t see over the bar but assumes a new patron has arrived. “I’ll be with you in just a moment,” She calls out on a whim. The legs of a barstool audibly scrape the floor on the opposite side of the bar, and she feels more so than hears a soft thud on the bartop.
Vi pops up from under the bar, another shot glass in hand for Sett as per his usual order. She looks over at the new patron as she sets down his order.
The first thing she notices is a white collar button up and the damp imprint of a golden badge inside a breast pocket. Dark bra straps show through where raindrops struck and she notices the distinct disheveled hairstyle of a recently undone hair bun. A woman of authority off the clock of a seemingly too long shift. Vi feels her face warm.
Three confident strides down the bar, and Vi greets her in a lower tone of voice than usual for patrons.
“I’m glad you made it out of the rain, welcome. What can I get for you?”
The woman sets down a pen on top of a notebook, poised as if she had planned to return to work. She looks tired, and yet there’s this… quiet effervescence to her character. Someone so thoroughly done with the day and yet somehow still looks so vibrant. So in the present. Her eyes take in every detail on each bottle situated on the shelf behind Vi. Strands of hair haphazardly stick to the soft edges of her face. The rain outside offers no help to the accompanying frizz but under the amber beam of the barlight, it frames her face as a halo. The look she gives Vi is intense, and Vi swallows.
Emboldened with energy from her earlier conversation, Vi props herself up on her side of the bar and returns the stare. She maintains eye contact; smug that she wasn’t the first to look away. The woman runs a hand through her hair, and sighs.
“Balmorhea Bourbon, neat.”
Oh. A voice like velvet, and that’s top shelf stuff. Vi smiles and says, “A woman after my own heart.”
Her tired expression cracks, and the patron smiles back with an expression a little more than demure. Vi flips up a glass from the rack, and pours her order generously.
While sliding the beverage forward Vi comments, “Midnights are my domain here and I haven’t seen you around before,” Vi then takes a second to roll up one of her sleeves above the elbow, then works on the other as she asks, “What brings you here?”
The patron takes a slow sip, savoring it, and Vi admires how she appreciates the drink before she replies, “Long day at the office.” Another sip. Vi watches how the shadows of her throat shift as she swallows. She tugs at the collar of her fully-buttoned shirt and continues, “Felt caged.” She wipes her lip with the side of her thumb that's holding the drink.
“Someone told me I need to loosen up—and for once I actually believed him.”
Vi chuckles and praises her timing to visit, as tonight’s the slowest night in months thanks to the storm, and the atmosphere is quiet enough to relax. The patron agrees warmly. Sett knocks back a shot from the other side of the bar and slams the glass down on the bar, drawing Vi’s attention. He motions to money under his empty shot glass and throws up a peace sign as he turns for the door.
Vi returns the peace sign motion in return. Sett pauses on his exit, turning to face Vi again and calls out, “Are we still good for Friday?” Vi flexes one arm at him, and gives him a big thumbs up. Sett mimics the flex, sharing a laugh between the two of them before resuming his leave.
The jingling of the door rouses the younger patrons from their stupor, and they also seem to be packing up for the night. The woman in front must have noticed that people are leaving as a social cue, and she slams back her own bourbon. One of her hands presses flat to the bar top and Vi realizes she’s getting up to leave.
“You came here to relax—-Yeah?” Vi interjects, and their eyes meet,
The woman halts, keys poised in her other hand. She nods.
“Slow down.”
Vi notices the car key between her fingers. She shouldn’t drive immediately after knocking back several shots of bourbon in one go. Drunk driving a vehicle weighing several tons is dangerous, not to mention she probably has a reputation to maintain as a civil servant. Vi’s brain unfortunately truncates these concerns before she can open her mouth, and all that comes out is:
“Are you a lightweight?”
The patron laughs, as if the moronic question charmed her. “I wish.” Truly, a woman after her own heart.
“I don’t close for another hour,” Vi pours her another glass, and slides it forward to her. You’re here to loosen up. Words unspoken. Rather, Vi adds: “And I would appreciate the company.” She means it.
The woman arches her brow at the bartender. She deliberates, and whatever her conclusion may be, Vi has somehow won her unbuttoning the first three buttons of the damp blouse and taking the new glass in her hand. Vi, despite looking good in leather suspenders required of her work dress-code, has never looked as put together in her uniform’s own white button-up compared to this woman. She could command a room whilst sitting on only a barstool.
The contrast of her dark bra and white shirt makes her cleavage look so soft in the dim lighting. Vi absentmindedly bites her lip as she stares at the newly exposed skin.
The woman leans forward, bracing an elbow onto the bar as she takes another sip. Vi wonders if she's inviting a glance down her shirt—as if she wasn’t already looking there—but shoves that thought away to maintain some semblance of professionalism. Vi’s on the clock, but acknowledges how long she’s been looking at this patron without once making eye contact. Willfully unapologetic about her staring, Vi mumbles, “That’s a good idea,” as professionalism be damned, she has never been one to be timid. Vi meets her gaze, undoes her own black bowtie, and then the top three buttons on her own shirt. The woman responds well as Vi tugs her own shirt down by the bottom hem as she re-tucks it into the top of her slacks, fabric taut against her skin, and absolutely inviting a look down her chest.
“Well, aren’t you bold.”
Vi can’t help a cheshire grin. “The name’s Vi.” Her hand hovers across the bar as a formality.
“Caitlyn.” The patron replies also smiling, offering her hand in return. The handshake is firm.
“It’s an honor, Caitlyn.”
Her hand is warm and the sensation lingers on Vi’s skin even as she washes and dries the first glass of bourbon offered to the woman.
Caitlyn asks, “So what are your plans with the big guy on friday?”
Vi is caught off-guard by the question. It’s easy small talk, but she's unsure if there's another reason. She's earnest in sharing that Sett agreed to train with her this weekend. Mid-sentence, it clicks into place that Caitlyn may be asking if they’re together and she tacks on,
“Oh—we’re not together. I’m not into men, we’re just boxing buds at a gym two blocks over.”
Caitlyn hums in response. It may be a little forward but it wouldn’t be Vi if it wasn’t. Vi sets the clean glass back on the rack; still thinking about the gym, she takes the opportunity to crack her neck and knuckles as she zones out. This shift has been long.
“And what are you doing tonight after your shift?” Caitlyn abruptly asks. As if it wasn’t midnight. As if Vi didn’t just inadvertently share her interest in women. Vi’s eyes snap to hers. Vi can’t tell if the flush along the bridge of Caitlyn's nose is from the bourbon or from such a raunch question. Vi’s definitely flushed.
Vi hears bell chimes, and sees the red coat of Graves cross through the doorway to the outside. They’re alone. She feels her heart rate increase, and prays she sounds smooth when she answers:
“I could show you how to relax.”
The door is locked, shades drawn, and till cashed out. Vi’s pinned against the back of the booth by a woman on her lap and teeth at her neck. Her hands rub along Caitlyn's upper thigh and curve into the pleasant swell of her toned ass. The only time she willingly removes her hand from this location is to unbutton Caitlyn's blouse in the few seconds of relief where Caitlyn leans back from bruising her neck.
Vi's grateful for front-clasp bras and even more grateful when Caitlyn ignores the clasp entirely and just yanks down the bra, exposing her breasts for Vi. As she does so, Vi’s hands return to their prior location and push Caitlyn’s hips forward. The first pleasant side effect of this is that her wonderful breasts are mere centimeters away from Vi’s face. The second pleasant side effect is that Vi no longer has to crane her neck downward to put one in her mouth, and Vi makes haste to do so.
Caitlyn generously pulls her hair out of the way for Vi’s mouth, and Vi savors the view of her clavicle. How her neck moves when she swallows thickly between sighs. Vi swirls her tongue around the hard bud in her mouth and finds satisfaction in the way Caitlyn heaves her chest in response.
A quiet type? Vi hums softly at the realization. She pulls back her mouth, spit trail dangling in the space between their bodies. She then leans back in and plants a firm kiss on the nipple, smearing slightly from her recent saliva. She shifts to give attention to the other breast, this time flicking her tongue in small motions. Caitlyn’s response is to put her hands on both of Vi’s clothed breasts and squeeze. Vi hates that it’s distracting, but revels in the faintest moan when she opens her mouth and sighs, breath hot on Caitlyn’s wet nipple.
Vi is not one for skirts but is joyous that Caitlyn is wearing one as her hands slide under the ruffled petticoat, along the sides of her thighs, and push the skirt up to her hips. Vi reaches around to the back, and then slides her hands south.
Two of her fingers run along the top of the leg seams on her panties, and two fingers run just under the seams, her fingertips sliding across Caitlyn’s skin, dragging her palms flat against Caitlyn’s ass all the way down to the hot and damp juncture of her inner thighs. Vi loves how excited she is, savoring how much the attraction is mutual.
Vi aims to please but the hair that frames Caitlyn’s beautiful face reminds Vi of how tired she must be. The skirt fabric that sticks to her skin reminds Vi that her built upper body hiding under these clothes must weigh heavily on the thighs spread poised over Vi’s lap. Vi in her favorite place—pinned under someone with more merit than her—sees Caitlyn for all that she’s accomplished at the end of the day. Vi is convinced that Caitlyn has earned a release—and Vi yearns to assist.
Unfortunately, Vi understands that this is not the best place to achieve that—Caitlyn should be face down in a plush white comforter, not a muscle engaged, and Vi’s hands should be able to access all of her.
Vi kisses her chest, trailing up to Caitlyn’s neck. In between kisses she states, ”You would look so relaxed face down on my bed,” Vi nips softly at an earlobe, adding: “as I eat you out from the back.” Vi rubs her fingers lightly along Caitlyn’s wet panties for effect. Caitlyn gasps and curses.
Vi’s fingers shift to near Caitlyn’s clothed clit, rubbing circles as she prompts a loaded question: “Do you want to go back to my place?”
“Yes, yes, yes.” Caitlyn replies, breathy while rolling her hips.
Vi finds it hard to pull away from Caitlyn, and watching her undulate her hips and flutter her eyelashes in pleasure is cruel to interrupt. But Vi mangles out that her apartment is on an upper floor of the same building. In preparation to slide both hands back up to her hips and lift Caitlyn to standing, Vi stops rubbing and removes her fingers from the vicinity.
This was a mistake.
A hand is at her throat in an instant. Her neck is pushed flush against the burnished leather trim of the booth seating, and it digs into her skin. Her veins are on fire, heart rate skyrocketing, but she can still breathe. As her grip instinctively tightens on Caitlyn’s hips, the grip around her neck softens ever so slightly, and she looks up at her captor. The expression on Caitlyn’s face is displeased and Vi feels so far from the success she felt with the woman’s breasts in her mouth from just seconds prior, it gives her whiplash. Vi swallows. She feels her throat press into Caitlyn’s palm.
“You better make why you just stopped worth it.” Caitlyn’s threatening voice is low, and it’s cold.
Caitlyn’s free hand pulls up her bra back into place and Vi’s eyes follow the entire motion. The hand on Vi’s neck tightens, and Vi’s attention snaps back up to her face as if guilty. Caitlyn must have been gauging her reaction, because she chuckles warmly but the smirk she gives Vi is dangerous. Vi wonders what expression is on her own face right now, as all she can focus on is her throbbing cunt and the hand on her neck.
Vi is so turned on it hurts. A woman in control is hot and she’s enamored to roll with the punches. Vi has never come to terms with liking the idea of being threatened when she’s trying to please, but in the present experience it leaves her face hot and unable to say a word to the half-undressed woman looming over her. Judging by the way Caitlyn holds her gaze (and throat), it's like she can read Vi’s mind. Vi has come to the mental conclusion that this woman could have her way—whatever that could mean—with Vi if she pleases and, fuck, Caitlyn looks at her like she already knows.
Caitlyn’s eyes linger on her mouth, and Vi feels like an animal.
Caitlyn abruptly gets off of her, and smooths her skirt down.
By the time both of them are in the elevator, she acknowledges Caitlyn’s long work hours out-loud, and suggests offhandedly that Caitlyn could use her shower if she wanted before Vi takes care of her. Caitlyn agrees casually, like she just agreed to lunch or a report or something intensely benign in her daily life. Her tone betrays nothing of her hands, which shamelessly wander Vi's body.
Vi hands move to do the same for Caitlyn, but a quiet “Don’t move.” command has her frozen with hands at her sides, obedient. Manicured fingers squeeze and rub at Vi’s waist, swiftly making their way up to her chest. Despite the public locale, Vi denies her nothing, body aching for attention. She knows there’s a camera in the elevator, but can’t bring herself to care as Caitlyn thumbs the burnished leather of her suspenders and pops another button undone on Vi’s already half-open white dress shirt.
Vi’s own warm vanilla shampoo fills the air. Towel dried hair makes her bed sheets damp, but there’s a naked woman who smells of her favorite cheap soap, and is face down with her hips propped on a pillow. Unexpectedly submissive provided all that just unfolded in Vi’s lap and the elevator. A treat for Vi. Yet in the far corners of Vi’s mind, the stark contrast in behavior makes Vi's stomach turn.
Will she get punished again for a mistake?
It’s kind of exciting—-not that Vi would dare make a mistake on purpose.
Vi sits beside her on the bed, and cautiously runs a hand from the top of Caitlyn’s shoulder blade, dipping into her lower back and rising over her phenomenal ass to her thigh and finally, calf. Vi does it again starting on the other shoulder blade, and murmurs, “Relax.”
She watches tension in Caitlyn’s shoulders release, and she coos a “Good girl,” for taking the suggestion as an instruction. Although it feels good to say, it was a cautious shot in the dark on whether or not Caitlyn would be okay with praise. Vi could be seconds away from being pinned down again by the throat (and again, not exactly a bad outcome for Vi) but as the seconds pass, Vi seems to be in the clear. She can’t see Caitlyn’s face, turned away to the other side of the bed and half smushed into her fluffiest pillow. There’s no response of approval, but there’s also no bite back either, and Vi counts it as a success.
Vi rubs Caitlyn’s back in a number of ways, murmuring where she plans to move her hands next as she kneads the heavenly soft skin of someone who could probably execute her if she felt like it. From her lower back to her upper back, Vi discovers the extent of well developed upper back muscles, and wonder’s what Caitlyn’s specialty is as a civil servant. Sliding her hands from Caitlyn’s upper back to shoulders to biceps, Vi feels tension—these are the muscles she uses the most, and Vi spends extra time pressing her fingers into the skin here.
A deeply muffled, “I hold a rifle, a lot.” almost incoherent when spoken directly into a pillow, but she sounds like she’s enjoying the massage; Vi connects that dot before she realizes she sometimes forgets the filter to her mouth. Thinking out loud to herself is fine until someone else is in the room to hear. Caitlyn’s answer suggests she doesn’t mind.
She especially doesn’t mind when Vi moves to the edge of the bed, and starts working on the soles of her feet. Vi’s thumb pressed flat against the bottom of Caitlyn’s feet earns her a sigh, and shifting a little higher to her calves earns a deep breath that she sees rather than hears, as Caitlyn’s back rises from the bed. It’s the grumble that rewards Vi as she starts on her lower thighs, where the massage teeters over into teasing.
A threshold passed quietly and with intention as Vi parts Caitlyn’s legs and sits between them. She slides her hands up Caitlyn’s outer thighs and to her lower back, before dragging her hands back down Caitlyn’s lower outer thighs. She then rotates her hands inward, sliding warm fingertips and stubby nails up Caitlyn’s inner thighs. When Vi repeats this motion, she gets closer and closer to Caitlyn’s core. Her fingers then stop at the juncture of her legs, and Vi begins to massage the area gently with her thumbs in small circles. Although Vi is completely and intentionally not touching Caitlyn arousal, rather focusing attention on the area around it, wetness drips down her finger tips.
“So wet, good girl.”
Caitlyn grumbles something incoherent into the pillow.
Vi murmurs to stay relaxed and continues the movement of her hands everywhere but where Caitlyn wants. Although judging by the grumble, she’s losing patience, and the ramifications of Caitlyn losing patience drives Vi to finally lay down on her stomach between Caitlyn’s legs.
She kisses Caitlyn’s inner thigh to communicate where her face is, and trails kisses along the inside of her left thigh, and then right thigh. She breathes deeply more so for effect, grinning to herself when she sees goosebumps on Caitlyn’s skin.
Vi runs a finger from Caitlyn’s entrance, down her folds, and gently prods the area of her clit, eliciting the cutest gasp from Caitlyn yet. She’s so soft and soaked and, “You’re so beautiful.” Vi says mindlessly, with vision obscured almost entirely by cheek and thigh and her favorite shade of pink as she spreads Caitlyn’s labia apart. She admires the sheen of Caitlyn’s arousal and how her clit looks when she’s face-down. Vi commits its location first to visual memory, and then tangible memory with her tongue. Vi sticks her tongue out as far as it can go, and gives one slow, generous lick to Caitlyn’s whole pussy.
The groan Caitlyn gives is intoxicating, and has Vi smiling as she does it again, tongue pressing flat against Caitlyn's body. Vi experimentally swishes her tongue left to right, slow then fast to gauge a reaction in what Caitlyn likes.
“Circles, Vi.”
Maybe Caitlyn can read minds.
What a woman to know exactly what she wants. Vi hums pleasantly, settling comfortably with her chin on the bedding and her newfound instructions. The tip of her tongue drawing sloppy circles around Caitlyn’s clit. Vi’s smug when she hears “Oh.” in a raw, low tone of voice. Ugly noises mean her partner isn't focused on sounding effeminate, and the alternative has always been Vi’s favorite kind of sound. It's also one of the reasons she bothered to learn to give proper massages. A skill that's paying off in dividends as she wraps her arms around each of Caitlyn's corresponding thighs, hands automatic in their rub patterns across Caitlyn's skin.
Nevermind that it provides a better angle to slurp and suck on Caitlyn’s deliciously swollen clit. Caitlyn curses and Vi feels her thighs tense under her arms. Vi, devoted to her cause and not daring to remove her mouth from Caitlyn until she cries, hums the sound of a chuckle to show her amusement as she sucks her clit. Vi pulls her head away while sucking to tug on her clit and she feels Caitlyn grip the comforter.
“Vi.” That's a commanding voice.
She immediately returns to drawing sloppy circles around Caitlyn’s clit. Her own name echoes in Vi’s head, so starkly different from the moan just seconds before. The tone makes Vi’s heart rate increase and wonder what else she could be told to do.
Ever faithful, Vi doesn't stray from the circular motion again. Her tongue is hot and wet and wide on Caitlyn’s clit. It’s not long before Caitlyn becomes twitchy, and Vi’s favorite sounds more frequent. She’s resorted to muffling her moans into the comforter much to Vi’s dismay, but Vi doesn't want to face the repercussions of asking to hear Caitlyn clearly. Not having her tongue on Caitlyn for even a second could have disastrous consequences for Vi’s skull integrity between these thighs.
Nevermind that the thought of getting crushed by Caitlyn is nothing short of blissful.
Caitlyn’s hips push up off the comforter, and this pulls Vi from her thoughts. She’s quick to follow, mouth constant and tongue unchanging in its pattern. Caitlyn’s body feels inexplicably warmer than from just a minute ago, and then she cries out. Vi’s favorite part of this position, even if it makes her nose messy, is how close she can watch an orgasm. Such an intense throbbing at the start, mulled by time to a slower relaxed pace. Her tongue on Caitlyn’s clit for all of it. Only when she sees and feels Caitlyn calming down, does she pull her face away.
Vi sits up on folded legs and observes that Caitlyn’s sunken into the bed, fully relaxed. Vi pats Caitlyn’s left thigh, and chuckles to herself; giddy in part by doing a good job, being an effective partner, and also in part by Caitlyn allowing Vi to take control to get to this point. As Vi moves up along the bed to lay alongside Caitlyn, she murmurs sweet nothings to Caitlyn. Wrapping her arms around her, Vi settles into rubbing ever slowing circles into Caitlyn’s most reachable shoulder blade as they both doze off.
Vi wakes up on her back, with knees propped up and a beautiful woman kissing a bruise on her inner thigh. Vi feels Caitlyn’s arms encircling her legs, but her inability to stretch her legs suggests that she’s being restrained to this promiscuous position and that realization immediately goes south. Caitlyn’s holding her legs in place, and Vi’s certain of it when she feels Caitlyn’s bicep tense. She hears a chuckle, as if her thought process was apparent as day, and the embarrassment makes Vi red more than the fact that she’s rather exposed. She kind of likes it.
“Good morning.” It’s the same tone, same accent as last night, and it makes Vi’s head swim. Vi makes some sort of noise in response, but her mind isn’t really there because she can feel Caitlyn’s breath on her clit, and when was she not wearing clothes? Vi doesn’t remember taking them off last night but the thought process as to why is interrupted as a cold metal rectangle gets slapped down on Vi’s bare stomach.
A phone.
Caitlyn all the casual, nails clicking on the phone screen as she dials lord knows who. Another click later, the dial tone of calling someone plays on speakerphone. Vi picks her head up and looks at Caitlyn––deeply confused—and Caitlyn just holds the finger up to her lips. Hush.
A person picks up and offers a fancy sounding title for a government office, followed by, “How can I assist you?”
“Good mo—” Caitlyn begins, only to be immediately cut off with “Oh, Officer Cait, it’s you.” Cait. That’s a new nickname.
Caitlyn hums in response, smiling softly to herself as she looks down. She’s pretty. Vi watches as the finger Caitlyn was holding to her lips to tell her to keep quiet gets licked, and Vi feels this wet finger immediately toy at her clit.
Vi gasps. Caitlyn looks up at her face instantly, gaze judgemental, and she feigns a cough. Her tone remains casual with whoever is on the phone as they exchange formalities. Caitlyn props her face up against Vi’s thigh and her breath is ever closer to Vi’s arousal, ghosting sensations around the prodding finger that has become more firm with circular motions. Vi doesn’t hear herself whimper but she gets another look that could murder a man, and Caitlyn feigns another cough before clearing her throat.
“You sound raspy, Cait. Are you alright?” The voice goes slightly robotic as the signal fluctuates.
Caitlyn sniffles for effect. Vi finds the act amusing as she also licks her finger again in the silence prior to returning it to Vi.
“That’s actually why I’m calling.” She stops rubbing Vi’s clit momentarily to spread her pussy, and Vi ever briefly is reminded of feeling like an animal on display.
“I think I’m coming down with something—-I need to call out today.”
There’s the sound of papers shuffling on the other end of the line, and a sigh. Caitlyn seems unaffected, and Vi feels her finger tip slide all the way down, spreading her arousal around. The whole process combined with not being allowed to vocalize has Vi feeling stars. Every touch of Caitlyn’s hand feels electric, and Vi opens her mouth with half a mind to make no sound.
“I’m so sorry to hear that you’re not feeling hot, Cait.” The other voice begins. Vi stares as Caitlyn licks her lips, eyes anywhere but Vi’s face. Caitlyn clears her throat again, and lowers her head slightly.
“Yeah that’s probably the best idea, for you to get rest.”
Vi would be over the moon to get out of a shift, but Caitlyn seems indifferent to the phone conversation entirely. Watching Caitlyn rub her arousal and then put that finger in her mouth to taste it has Vi’s mind blank. Caitlyn makes a noise of approval. Vi can’t tell if she was agreeing to the sick day statement or if she enjoys how Vi tastes. Vi wants it to be the latter. So bad.
Caitlyn seemingly satisfied with whatever just unfolded, thanks and bids the phone call person goodbye. The phone call disconnect noise chimes through the air, and immediately Caitlyn comments,
“You were almost well behaved.” Vi’s thoughts sliced short. The word almost echoes throughout Vi's mind.
With no hesitation, Caitlyn lowers her wonderfully hot mouth onto Vi’s swollen damp clit and Vi wants to fucking sob. Vi also wants to squirm but the iron grip Caitlyn has on her thighs still won’t let her move. Is this her punishment? The cell phone weighs heavy on her stomach as she pants, while Caitlyn presses her tongue flat against Vi the same way Vi did so to her last night. Vi goes to move the phone off her stomach, and her wrist is immediately grabbed and pinned to her own thigh as Caitlyn returns her arm to securing Vi's legs in place. This is Vi's punishment.
Vi loves this kind of punishment. It’s going to be a long morning.