Keeping Things Professional

Gianna Dior's scribbling in a notebook at reception when Derrick Pierce walks in and freezes. “Is that her?” he mutters, half a step from bolting. The masseuse looks up, all bright eyes and welcome, asking if she can help. Derrick angles away, mumbling he’s got the wrong place and he’s out. She catches the move, lights up. “Oh, Derrick!” She hurries over, big smile, tits bouncing. Tells him she figured she blew the interview two weeks back, but now here he is—so she got the gig after all. He cuts her off: no, they picked somebody else. Her face drops. Then she clocks the massage robe in his hand. “Oh, a massage.” He shrugs, says he’ll come back another time, but she steps in front of the door. She’ll keep it professional, she promises, no conflict. He caves. Gianna walks him back, starts the pitch with her hands already on his shirt. First she undresses him—claims she’s very hands-on—then steers him into the shower, fingers testing the water, making sure it’s perfect before she soaps every inch. Under the spray she keeps selling: how tidy she is, how she never leaves a spot untouched. Her slick fist pumps his cock and she grins, “See? Always happy to lend a hand when a man needs one.” He tries to shut it down, position’s filled, but she keeps stroking and insists she just wants him walking out happy. He gives in, lets her finish him right there under the water, hot spurts down her throat. On the mat she climbs on top, slick skin sliding over his, then sinks down on his cock with a satisfied moan, riding him hard, proving with every wet slap that she’s the right girl for any job.