A room comes with a cost - Part 3 - Sexgeschichten

A room comes with a cost - Part 3

... didn't budge, eyes raking slow... chest to crotch to thighs, lingering on the arm-cupped swell of my tits, the way my fingers tented the blue cotton below. Smoke curled from his cigar, the haze thickening the air like complicity. He chuckled low, stepping in full, door swinging shut behind him with a click that echoed too loud.

"You iced my best tippers last time, pocketed eight bucks like it was gold. Tonight? We fix that."

I backed up... ass bumping the desk, the edge biting into my cheeks... arm tightening over my bra, the other hand pressing harder, fingertips brushing my clit through the fabric in a jolt that made me flinch. Rebellion burned: Scream, knee him, bolt. But the job... rent, rules, Mike's grace on the line.

"This is harassment. Get out, or I..."

"Or what? Quit? Walk those pretty legs home empty-handed?"

He stubbed the cigar in a mug on the desk, ash flaking like dirty snow, and closed the gap... close enough his belly brushed my shielding arm, the heat of him suffocating. His hand shot out, palm up, fingers crooked. Expectant. Owning.

"Motivation time. Choose: No panties, or no bra. Keep both? Shift's over before it starts. And if it's the bra... unbutton two more on that blouse. Let the girls breathe... regulars tips double for a peek. You can have it back after the shift."

My breath hitched, the air between us electric and foul... cigar and sweat, his eyes boring into my covered crotch like he could see the damp spot blooming ...

... already, traitor body waking to the wrong cue again. No panties? Bare under the skirt, every bend a flash, breeze kissing slick lips. No bra? Tits free, nipples hard against the blouse, two extra buttons popped for cleavage that plunged to my navel. Unfair.

"Fine," I spat, voice cracking despite the steel I tried to lace in. "Bra. No bra."

Better the top... panties at least shielded the core ache, the raw throb from last night's flood. I dropped my shielding arm slow, the bra's straps digging into my shoulders as I reached back, fingers fumbling the clasp. It gave with a soft ping, lace loosening, and I yanked it free... white cotton crumpling in my fist, nipples peaking instant in the cool air, dark and traitorous against my pale skin. The mirror threw it back: C-cups bared, perky from the chill, the faint tan lines from summer a roadmap of vulnerability. Vic's gaze locked there, hungry, his free hand twitching like he itched to grab.

"Good choice, doll."

He held out his palm wider, expectant, and I slapped the bra into it. His fingers closed around it, pocketing it deep in his apron, the bulge obscene.

"Now the blouse... two buttons. Let the boys see what they're tippin' for."

My hands shook as I snatched the blouse from the stool, the thin fabric whispering against my bare back as I shrugged it on. It clung instant, silk-smooth but mocking, nipples shadowing the white like beacons. Button one... navel level, standard plunge. Button two... mid-rib, dipping the ...