Open House

Karen shoves a tray of cookies in the oven and straightens her blouse like she’s already closing the deal. She fusses with pillows, spritzes the air, and lines up flyers by the front door, her nerves showing in every quick step. Out on the lawn she rams the OPEN HOUSE sign into the grass, hips rocking with each pound of the mallet, then heads back inside. A guy’s been watching from the sidewalk. He palms the hard bulge in his jeans and follows her in. She’s plating cookies when he appears; she yelps, then pastes on her sales smile and offers him a treat. He’s quiet, eyes locked on her natural tits straining the thin blouse, ponytail swinging as she walks him through the kitchen. She’s 20, first time flying solo, desperate to prove she can sell. He keeps asking about the master bedroom view. Another couple rings the bell and Karen bolts to greet them, relieved. The guy drifts upstairs while she’s busy. Two hours later the last visitor leaves. Karen slumps against the door, swears, kicks off her heels, and starts bagging the leftover flyers, flowers, and cookies. She stomps upstairs in bare feet to kill the lights and freezes—the guy’s still there, admiring the bedroom. He heard her meltdown. Tells her it’s a shame she struck out. She’s twenty, bright, and he can help. She scrambles for a flyer. He glances at the $749k price, smiles, and says, “I’ll take it—full ask, double your commission.” Karen squeals, hugs him, almost bounces out of her skirt. He sits on the bed. “Big room,” he says. “Think it’ll hold plenty of girls?” She nods fast, anything to keep the sale. He wants mirrors on the ceiling so he can watch while he fucks. Karen’s smile falters, but she keeps nodding. Then he drops it flat: he needs a test drive first. Her on her knees. Quick, he promises, and the double commission stands. She strips the pencil skirt and blouse, drops to all fours, crawls to him. He pulls his cock out and she takes it in her mouth, blonde hair brushing his thighs, natural tits swaying while she works. He fucks her hard on the mattress—69, her petite body pinned under him, then back on top riding until he pulls out and paints her pretty face. She wipes cum from her lashes and asks if she can grab the paperwork now. He buttons up without a word, grabs his tie, and walks out. Through the upstairs window you see him snag the OPEN HOUSE sign off the lawn and keep going.