"Poolside Lesbians" by HeyAll
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A significant transformation is sweeping through the real estate landscape of Beverly Hills and so I've called for a strategic planning session to address that. These are the top realtors of the firm and they give me their undivided attention. "Headlines of an exodus are false," I say. "Instead we're seeing a trend of people moving from the city to suburban areas. Now the question is, how do we respond? We've got numerous clients seeking our help to sell or lease properties. Plus we have our own properties to consider." I prefer meetings that are fast and snappy. Too long and the important messages get lost. On the board are pictures of property, prices, and writings in marker of who is tasked with each sale. The strategy session is a chance to recalibrate the firm. When everything is settled I head back to my office and realize that Marielle Henning is following me. She closes the door when we're both in my office. That's her style, she's very in-your-face and assertive. She's a veteran in the real estate game and knows how to flex her muscles when necessary. "I have an idea," she says. "It's a novel one, which you're going to love, I promise." Entertaining her ideas are always amusing because she's a crafty individual. A top earner here. I sit behind my desk and she stands there with this sassy attitude and a wry smile on her face. "You couldn't mention this at the meeting?" "It's more of a delicate matter." "So what can I do for you?" "The beachfront property, the one with the pool, I want to manage that sale." "The place on Bryant street?" "Yes, I want it," she says. "That's already being handled. I can still assign you that property if you have a good reason." Her smile is confident. "My friend is an entrepreneur and she says that major investment firms are putting more money in female-led businesses. I feel there's an opening there." "Explain." "The beachfront property is perfect for business women who need to relax. Think of the Barbie movie, women love that vibe, it's alluring. So why not capitalize on that? You know, mixing business with the hot sun by the pool. Massages and manicures are also fantastic." At first it sounds far fetched, but then I think about all the deals I've done in strip clubs with male clients. That's the old boy's club. Who knows what women prefer? That's where I defer these matters to Henning because she has deep connections with business women in the city. "Could be interesting," I say. "I'm still wondering why you didn't mention this during the meeting. I'm sure your colleagues would have been impressed with everything you just said." "To be honest, the strategy is unorthodox. I'd rather keep this on the downlow for now." "Anything risky? Now isn't the time for risk. Not with these interest rates." "God you're a prude. I actually know some interested women. This is what they want. I've already spoken with them." "You're being unusually coy about your plans. I'm not sure if I like that." Henning winks. "If my strategy works -- and I believe it will -- then we could be looking at big profit margins with other properties as well. As opposed to, you know, lack of interest and no one buying." This kind of confidence is something to be admired. The truth is, I don't want to know what she's up to. She's always secretive but she can generate competitive offers. I agree to her request and make a note to assign her the property. After expressing her gratitude, she leaves with her chin high and a sway in her hips, same as always. ~~~~~ Leila Khan ~~~~~ I'm standing in the kitchen making final preparations before the prospective buyers arrive. Informational materials are placed on the counter next to deli sandwiches and drinks and various snacks. The property is gorgeous. Open space with white walls and high windows that welcome streams of sunlight inside. Typical for Southern California in the best way possible. This is my second year with this real estate firm and being under the tutelage of Marielle Henning is a blessing. I love that she's a shark behind the scenes but an angel towards clients. Charm and people-skills are what separates the pros from the amateurs, she often tells me. "Looks nice," Ms. Henning says. She inspects the table and nods, she rarely gives much acknowledgment beyond that. On the day of property showings, she's the ultimate multi-tasker, and she does that with relative ease. Another reason I'm happy doing whatever menial task she wants, because I love learning from her. "I bought a little extra. It makes the table look prettier." "Smart. Better they have lunch here than go somewhere else." She gives one more curt nod and she carries on. We've worked together several times before, but this is the biggest showing we've done as a team and I aim to prove that I can be trusted with the big jobs. Around 10 a.m. the property showing begins. This is the kind of group who are always punctual, so most of them arrive at around the same time. Some are older, experienced women who've already built stellar reputations in the business world. Others are younger, wide-eyed, and are in the process of growing their brands with help from investors. It's interesting seeing how they're dressed, the generational divide. Style with this crowd is a must. The older women are wearing slacks and blouses and thin blazers. The younger women dress more casual and modern, almost as a flex that they can wear what pleases them. It feels like stepping into a reality show with ultra competitive women. The younger clients remind me of myself. Ambitious and looking to prove a point. Shy but looking to overcome that shyness. But it's the older clients who I aspire to become, someone with ice cold confidence, who can command a room just by entering. I introduce myself with a well-rehearsed smile and a firm handshake. Of course, it's Ms. Henning who's the star of the show, making her way around and fielding questions. It feels more like a social gathering than anything else because she's good friends with many of these ladies, something she's told me beforehand. An hour goes by and the group examines the layout of this place and how they'd potentially use it for their respective businesses. Special attention is paid to the rooms that could be offices, then outside to the pool area, where they consider the pros and cons of letting their employees have a dip during working hours. The most common remark is that if men can use the gym to lift weights at tech places and modern offices, why can't women swim here for exercise? It's easy on the joints and it's a fantastic stress reliever, especially with this view of the ocean. Yeah, they love the idea of a pool and they're gushing over which end of the pool they'll use the most. Every so often Ms. Henning would come and whisper directions in my ear, which guests are curious about what topic, what needs more attention, that sort of thing. An hour later, she pulls me aside and I know it's for something more serious. She only breaks her perfect demeanor and sports this face if there's an issue. "We may have a small problem," Henning says. I take a deep breath. "Something we can handle, I'm sure." "Yes, sure we can. Our current asking price is based on people wanting the pool and hot tub. It's worth a lot." "Did anyone try to lower the asking price?" "Not yet. I'm still feeling these ladies out. They're giving the impression that the price is too steep. They think they can get a lower price with these market conditions and interest rates." "Do you think we should consider..." She interrupts me. "The price is more than fair. It's our job to show prospective clients the value of this property. Can you do that?" "Yes, absolutely." "Wonderful. Now go outside and work the pool area. Sell it." Henning ends the conversation and goes back to mingling with the women, putting that million dollar smile back on her face. I step outside, the warm sun and ocean breeze feels nice on my face, and I insert myself between a small group of women who are talking amongst themselves. They like the pool, they're just unsure if it's the right fit for them. They think the place is gorgeous, but maybe it's too gorgeous, too distracting. I do my best to sell and I work the talking points I've been given days ago. A while later, I hear the distinct sound of Henning's heels clicking on the pavement as she steps outside. I'll always admire how she walks like a runway model and how she's able to keep that smile on her face. She pulls me aside and the women talk amongst themselves, then Henning drops the smile once we have a bit of privacy. "It looks like Plan B has presented itself," she says. "What did you have in mind?" Her eyes travel up and down. "You know you're attractive, right? Do you agree that you're pretty?" What's the right answer to that question? Appraising oneself only sounds narcissistic, but at the same time, I think I look okay. I have my insecurities like anyone else but I work with what I've got. "Well, if you say so. I mean, I don't know how to answer that." "Face it, Leila, you're a gem. Every guy in the firm wants you. But you already know that." "Thanks, I guess?" "As I was saying -- Plan B -- these women are a tough crowd but there's room to maneuver. I'll increase your commission if you do whatever I say." "I've already been doing..." Henning cuts me off. "I'll boost your pay by 40% on top of the original plan. That's a killer deal for what little experience you have." For property like this, a 40% increase in my cut will be the biggest windfall of my budding career. By far. The thought excites me and I try to stay composed about it. The money is fantastic, obviously, but it's the sense of accomplishment that I'm looking for. A boost in my portfolio and a chance to make deeper connections. "Yeah, anything. What do you want me to do?" Her eyes drift downward. "For starters, take off your heels." "You want me to take my heels off?" "That's what I said. You have nice feet. They'll look good in the pool." Henning is known for being a shrewd and relentless operator, but this is something else. I'm not against the idea of being used as a prop to help market this place, but I do think about my reputation for being seen like this. Regardless, I swore to myself that I'd never complain since I started working at this firm. Following her around is an education. I reach down and remove my heels, careful not to fall over, then my bare feet step on the warm pavement. She's looking at my feet and legs, even as I stand upright and face her. "How is this going to work?" I ask. "I'm assuming you've met Svetlana already." "We shook hands. She didn't seem interested in speaking with me." "Well, the woman is an elitist, and she's also a dear friend of mine. We were just discussing her new fitness plan and apparently she's stiff as a board. You know, high-end trainer, weight lifting. I keep telling her that women our age should exercise lighter, but she refuses to listen." "I'm assuming that since Svetlana is into fitness, she would benefit from swimming, rather than traditional weight lifting, because of her age. Swimming is great for exercise, relaxation and recovery too." Henning smiles. "Yes, yes, yes. My god, you're a special one. I made the right choice selecting you for this job. Anyway, my dear friend Svetlana desperately needs a massage. I asked what she thought about you. She thinks you're attractive. Do you know where this is headed?" "You want me to give her a massage?" "Have you ever done that before?" "No, but it sounds simple enough. Are you serious about this?" "That's why I'm asking. Truth be told, it's gamesmanship. Clients that are spending a lot of money need to feel special. Sometimes a realtor must show the client that they're appreciated. This woman has influence, trust me. If you curry favors with her, it'll be great for your career" It's a daunting thought, my hands on Svetlana's body, her soft skin. She's tall, thin, with a thick accent which she doesn't bother to hide. She's approaching 50, maybe a little older. Everything about her screams high-class and she carries an air of sophistication around her. From what I know, she specializes in the modeling industry, so property like this should be within her wheelhouse. A sparkle in Henning's eye lets me know how important this is. Again my focus is on my reputation. The thought of giving someone a massage doesn't cross the mind of a realtor. Would the women here think less of me now that I'm barefoot? Or if I was giving Svetlana a massage? I throw caution to the wind. "Sure, I can do it. Anything for a sale, right?" Henning smiles. "That's the spirit. I should also advise you that it's an interesting group of women, you know, very liberal-minded. I probably should have alluded to this beforehand, but I didn't think it was necessary. Many of them have, shall we say, a European mindset to work and life. I mean that in the best way possible, but it might be different for you." Looking into her eyes, it's hard to gauge what she's talking about exactly. I'm assuming it's a reference to European women being more open to touching and showing affection with each other in public. "Totally understand," I say. "For the record, I love Europe, I've been there a few times." She winces a little, then shakes it off, getting back to business. "Another thing. Are you shaved? I assume you are. You're always put-together." "If we're talking about the same thing... then yes... I'm shaved there." "Give me your panties." She doesn't wait for a response, she just holds her hand out and I feel like a student being scolded by a teacher at a religious school. The power imbalance is that great between us. That imbalance also gives me the sensation of being in heat, something I've never felt with her before. We've always been strictly professional. I look around and see the women mingling amongst themselves and having a few drinks. There's enough privacy between me and Henning that I'm able to reach beneath my skirt, pinch my panties, and slide them off. Henning takes the panties from my hand, and in a surprise move, she gives them a sniff before putting them in her pocket. My first thought is she wanted to see how I smell, so the client won't be repulsed. My second thought is that Henning wanted to see if I was aroused, which is kind of unnerving since we're working a job. "Smells rosy," she says. "You're obviously a bit wet. Don't worry, I tend to have that effect on women when ordering them around." "I'm sorry." "Never apologize for your sexuality. Be proud of who you are. Consider this a lesson in being a good seller." Her comments signal what my role is. I'm a prop now. Eye candy for business women. And my legs and what's between them are the crown jewel. My accidental arousal is helping the sale because wet pussy is always better than dry pussy. Now it makes sense why Henning was talking about the European lifestyle. I wonder if Svetlana would be able to smell my aroma. She looks like a woman who prefers other women. I'm left to stand awkwardly and pantyless by the pool while Henning goes back inside to get her friend. A warm, gentle breeze goes up my legs and sends a shiver down my spine. I've never been pantyless outside before, risk isn't my thing. My thing is trying to be respectable for my age. A few minutes later, my world is about to turn upside down as Henning walks alongside Svetlana to the pool. They're having a laugh, gossiping, talking about anything except buying this property. Neither of them look at me, I'm not important, yet... Things get more awkward for me as Svetlana removes her heels and stockings, placing her bare feet on the pavement, lifting her skirt to reveal skinny white legs so she could sit at the edge of the pool and dip her feet in the water. "... such drama queens," Svetlana laughs, talking to Ms. Henning. "Can you believe what I have to deal with from those people? Unbelievable." Svetlana gets comfortable sitting with her feet in the water -- still without acknowledging my presence as I approach -- and she tosses her hair to the side to expose her neck and shoulders. "My neck is stiff from yesterday's workout," Svetlana says. It's an uncomfortable moment and my attention shifts to Svetlana's thin white neck. They're still gossiping amongst themselves, but Henning, my trusted mentor, nods at me, nudging me to proceed with the plan. This is the `Plan B' she had mentioned earlier and apparently the burden falls squarely on my shoulders. I get behind Svetlana and bend down and put my knees on the pavement. My hands hover for a moment before I gather the bravery to touch Svetlana's bare skin, my fingers making delicate contact with her neck and shoulders. Her skin is softer than mine, something that comes with age. Her muscles are tense. She twirls her feet in the water as she keeps the conversation going, a conversation that doesn't include me. As I work Svetlana's neck, my eyes glance toward Ms. Henning, who offers an encouraging smile and another nod. I don't bother to check if anyone is looking at us. Way too embarrassing, though I'm sure there are admirers for what I'm doing. My knees are pressed together in hopes that everything is concealed. Can she smell my arousal? Will she notice? I've never touched a mature woman like this before, nothing beyond a handshake or hug, and it's having a profound effect on me. This is a form of intimacy. Without any further instructions, I let my hands go lower to Svetlana's shoulders, the tips of my fingers grazing the top of her chest. "You can do a little better than that," Henning says to me. I'm mortified when she suggests that I get behind Svetlana while continuing the massage, with my feet dipped in the water. This, while my panties are in her pocket. I force a smile, not wanting to start a minor argument in front of potential buyers. Svetlana keeps ignoring me, which is par for her brand. Their gossip continues. I position myself right behind Svetlana and my feet glide past her legs. We're literally an inch apart, from my chest to her back. She never says a word to me, I don't exist in her world. The women keep talking and I dip my feet in the water, right next to hers, and I'm mindful of not letting my sexual parts touch her clothes. I may have to retire from this business if I leave a wet stain on the back of Svetlana's outfit and everyone knows about it. A few moments later, Henning excuses herself to manage the showing, bending down to give Svetlana a kiss on the lips, which happens right in front of me. I see their lips press and I hear the moist sound it makes, their lips pressing for more than a second. They've definitely done this before and it happens with ease. We're alone and I keep massaging her neck and shoulder area, expecting her to tell me to stop, but that never happens. She still doesn't say anything to me, she just twirls her feet in the water and enjoys my hands on her body. The truth is, a part of me enjoys touching her, despite the other women watching this happen. And I know for a fact that we're being watched because I can see them in the corner of my eye. "How long have you been in real estate, girl?" What's funny is that it's not entirely clear that she's talking to me. It's like she's talking on an earpiece to someone else, using a formal tone like it's an interview. Her eyes are looking down into the pool as she twirls her toes and I wonder if she's also looking at my feet. "About two years. I love it." "How long have you been with this firm?" she asks. "Almost my entire career. My father does a lot of work with Marielle and a few strings were pulled, so here I am." Being the product of nepotism is often uncomfortable for me because it implies that I don't work hard. The reality is that I work harder than most people my age and I hope Svetlana sees that. She doesn't seem to judge me, she just gives a gentle, "Ahh,' in response. I'm sure in her world she understands how important connections are. "You're good at this, your hands, I mean. Have you done it before?" "No, you're literally the first," I say. As tired as my hands are becoming, a genuine compliment from a commanding woman like Svetlana reinvigorates me and I squeeze a little harder on the tense spots in her neck and shoulder. Her compliment pushes away the shame of other women seeing this happen. "I'm not wearing a bra under my blazer jacket. Do you mind, girl?" From my vantage point behind her, I look at her face, wondering if she means what I think she means. She appears casual, serious, her eyes still focus on her toes in the water and my feet next to hers. "Are you sure?" I ask. "Nipples don't bite." Her comment sends a tingle between my legs. Nipples? Did she really just say that? There are a few women around the pool, some gossiping amongst themselves with a drink in hand, some taking an inspection of the property, a few glances in this direction. I can see Henning inside the property, working her magic to potential buyers. I'd be mortified to be seen with my hand there, but I refuse to disappoint a respectable woman, much less a friend of Henning. My hand slips beneath her thin blazer. She's right, no bra. My head rests against her back in a tender way because it's better than having to look at other women while I'm doing this. My hand drifts lower, her breast is so soft, I can tell they sag at her age. They're not firm or perky like mine. That's not an insult, by the way, I happen to love the appearance of mature women and I adore them. I just never thought I'd be touching a boob in a professional setting. It's euphoric when my finger grazes across her nipple. A touch at first. Then I'm enveloped in a whirlwind of sensations, a mixture of public humiliation and sexual perversion. It's a mindfuck of a combination, to be honest. As my finger lingers, a charged tension hangs in the air, like the hushed anticipation before a storm. And there most certainly is a storm brewing. Women like Svetlana always expect the finest treatment. Her nipple is like a small raspberry in terms of shape and texture. I could look over and peer at her breasts if I wanted to, but I don't want to be rude. I wasn't given permission to look. I can imagine the color, she looks like a white woman with a bright pink nipple, maybe even a little red. It makes me wet to think about, and to feel her nipple between my fingers, this time I don't care if my wetness touches her clothes and leaves a stain. If I leave a wet mark on her, that's her fault. "Shame we've never met until now," she says. "Marielle must have been hiding you." "Newbie status, you know? I'm still climbing the ladder." "You're the secret weapon." Her compliment emboldens me and I rub her nipple a little harder, pinch it, twirl it between my fingers. It makes her moan, which she doesn't bother to hide. "You think so?" I ask. "This is my world, my game. I make the rules. Right now you have to fight your way to the top, insist on bigger jobs, make yourself noticeable enough to be invited to events. This entire day you barely made a peep. All you spoke about was work, girl. Sell yourself, your life story. Become multi-faceted. Be a woman who can do anything." Svetlana grabs my wrist and pulls my hand deeper into her chest, so that the palm of my hand covers her small breast. It sags, just like how I imagined it. That turns me on. I oblige her needs and give her tit a firm squeeze. "Oh god," I say. "Are you a woman who can do anything?" "Yes, that's me." "Good, then kiss my neck. That pairs well with a breast massage, girl." My eyes dart around the pool area, I've captured the full attention of a few women standing on the other side, and strangely they don't seem the slightest bit amazed by this. It's like they've seen this before, that there's nothing new here. That this is something commonplace like when Henning kissed Svetlana on the lips a few moments ago. I'm sucked into the strangeness of the moment and I hold Svetlana tight from behind. My bare crotch presses against the fabric of her skirt, which will leave a wet stain after this. I don't care anymore. It's what she wants. A stain. Then I kiss her neck while squeezing her boob, which makes her moan. A moan she doesn't bother to hide. ~~~~~ Marielle Henning ~~~~~ In the large room on the second floor of the property, a ravishing redhead is bare from the waist down and she's wielding a strap-on attached to her crotch. She's positioning herself to use it on her young assistant who's naked and bent over a conference table. The redhead's name is Clarice and we've been friends forever. For what it's worth, Clarice donates a breathtaking amount of money with profits from her financial firm. This is a room that'll be set up for meetings. There's a long table and a few chairs, aside from that the place is empty. Sunlight shines into the room. Clarice starts fucking her young assistant, wanting to get a feel for how these types of encounters would go in an environment like this. She's a holistic type, Clarice, very liberal. She's used to these kinds of encounters in a downtown office and she's checking the vibes of a beachfront property. I watch the pounding and listen to the assistant groan from the backshots. God I need a drink, but I have to keep my mind sharp for work. I'm a professional, after all. I walk over to them and touch Clarice's butt while she's thrusting deep into her assistant, then I kiss her shoulder, then I bring my lips to her ear. "You're one hot bitch. Take it easy on your assistant. Wouldn't want to scare the neighbors, sweetheart." She laughs and keeps going while the assistant is close to an orgasm. I give Clarice another kiss on the shoulder and leave the room. For context, every woman attending this open house is from the same social and business circles. Most people don't appreciate how difficult it is for women to get investment money and other forms of support, so they created their own groups. They give each other advice. They share connections and resources wherever possible. And they even share the same secrets. You know, pussy licking, rim jobs, strap-on action. That sort of thing. It's the ultimate stress release for a busy woman in the corporate world. I go to the main area of the property to mingle and hardly anyone is there. Had they left? No, they're in the backyard area by the pool. Leila Khan. Young and attractive. What have I gotten her into? I don't even need to look to know what's probably going on and why most people are outside. I hear a moan. I recognize the voice. I step outside to join the gathering. Leila Khan is laying on the pavement at the edge of the pool, skirt hiked, while Stevelana is naked in the shallow end of the pool eating her out. This should be a jaw dropping sight under normal circumstances, but we're a tight group. These women know how it goes. One of the first things that women who are new to finances learn is Svetlana's larger than normal sexual appetite. She's dry from the neck up, but her body glistens with water and sunshine after having dipped in the water. She's skinny but her muscles are rippled. Her long pink nipples are erect, I can see them from the side angle. Her face is buried in that cunt and she's making Ms. Khan squirm and moan. A lesbian virgin's moan. It's music to my ears. A symphony of pleasure. Truth be told, when I left them alone I didn't think it would go this far. Leila is the kind of girl who's over eager to prove herself, that's why I've been relying on her lately, but I didn't think it would evolve to public pussy eating. Honestly, the most I thought would happen was touching and maybe some kissing. Had I known that Leila would be eaten by a prominent business woman, I'd have only offered her a modest 20% pay bump instead of the 40% when I was desperate for her help. Getting a clit sucking from Stevtlana is valuable, not because it feels so good, but because she'll have bragging rights. Screw her portfolio, which she always talks about wanting to boost. If the right women find out that she's gotten a tongue lashing from Svetlana, doors will open. Opportunities will appear. It means her cunt is worthy. That she's connected with the right people. A pussy blessing, as I like to call it. Most of the clients are lounging outside after getting the information they wanted and a complete tour of the property. By now, they're either interested or they're not. So they're having drinks, socializing, some are sitting on the other side of the pool with their feet in the water eating sandwiches, while listening to the music of Leila approaching orgasm in the background. They talk about her when the moans get louder. "Ms. Khan is multi-talented, I see." "Does that come with the open house?" "I'm sure if you pay extra Ms. Khan will come with the property." A busty blonde named Pamela removes her flats to walk barefoot. She takes off her pants and removes her crisp white blouse, to reveal her sheer bra and panties, which are way too small for her. Her body is evenly tanned. The reason she removed her clothes is so she can have an easy time bending down to play with Leila during the eventual climax. Pamela works in family law for a downtown firm and she's expressed interest in starting her own practice here. She gets on her knees and lovingly undoes Leila's top and shows great affection. Button by button. The blouse is open while Leila's body is tense from being eaten and having a tongue shoved inside her pussy. I'm bursting with anticipation as Pamela pulls the front of Leila's bra down. I'm so curious to see those nipples for the first time. Ah, they're dark. Not quite black, but much darker than brown. One of my favorite things in life is the contrast between pink and dark nipples. The contrast is delicious. Svetlana and Pamela both sport bright pink nipples which look fantastic near Leila's dark ones. All three women have erect nipples from this casual public encounter. Pamela bends down and starts to suck each tit while rubbing the chest. Before, everyone was socializing around this pussy-eating. Now everyone is watching. It's a feast for the eyes and soul. Everyone fawns over what they're seeing. Leila's feet are straight from her tension and her toes curl. She makes a loud squealing noise which is both amusing and embarrassing at the same time. I'm sure she'll cringe so hard later knowing everyone has heard this. I'm sure she'll be more embarrassed over the squealing noise she makes, more than having her first pussy-eating session in front of a group of esteemed women. This is the moment Leila Khan becomes a canvas of sexual pleasure. A tableau of professional women surrounds her. As the sun's tender rays shine on her skin, she has everyone's full attention. Her orgasm becomes the perfect way to end this property showing. Between the nurturing and intense guidance of corporate women, Leila's body melts onto the pavement and she surrenders. Her euphoria blossoms as she cums into Svetlana's mouth while her pussy and nipples are stimulated at the same time. It's the kind of orgasm where she stops her moaning and panting and instead becomes silent as her body stiffens like a board. Her face looks twisted with pleasure and her toes are curled while Svetlana makes a muffled noise, no doubt swallowing a gushing of Leila's squirt. The women around the pool are amused, but not surprised. No one eats pussy like Svetlana does, and Pamela is the master of nipple sucking. Their eyes are locked onto this orgasm while they're continuing to eat small bites and drink and talk amongst themselves. When the orgasm is over, there's a light applause as if this were a Broadway show and Leila is the star entertainer this afternoon, under this bright sunny day. It takes several moments for Leila to recover, and by this point the group of women make their preparations to leave, offering me a handshake and some parting words for the day. This is business, but we're also friends. They also make sure to send their pleasantries to Leila as she's helped to her feet. The buzzing glow of an orgasm is all over Leila's face as she stands with her skirt still hiked, showing her freshly eaten pussy, and her blouse is still open with her bra still down. Her dark nipples are still erect, they shine with saliva under the warmth of sunlight. The fact that she's still barefoot makes this sight that much hotter. Leila covers her nipples with a forearm, offering an embarrassed handshake with her free hand. Not enough time to fix her blouse, so she pays respect to these guests the best she can, even though her pussy is hilariously still showing and her hair is a mess. As the women make their way inside the property to leave through the front door, Leila takes the moment to button her blouse and fix her office skirt. She goes to get her heels and puts them on her feet. The young woman can barely look at me when I approach her. I tell her she's done a great job, a deal is a deal, and we agreed on a 40% pay increase. Leila thanks me. Her voice is jittery. Adrenaline is a powerful drug and coming down from an orgasmic high takes time. She'll learn, they always do. It's how I learned. We go inside the property and she forces herself to interact with these women as if everything is normal. But these women have seen her nipples and her O-face, so things can never be normal between them. Svetlana whispers something in her ear. Another meeting, no doubt. The End Twitter & Instagram: @heyallstories