Footsie

India Summer's the boss you don't cross. Sharply dressed, no-nonsense, sits in her home office and watches Aidra Fox squirm in an expensive leather chair. Aidra got caught skimming petty cash, and now the goods are neatly stacked on India's desk. First thing Aidra notices: the shades are drawn. The second thing? The lock on the door's already turned. India doesn't lecture. She rolls up her sleeves, heels kicked off under the desk, and coolly announces she'll drop the whole mess—if Aidra nods to a different arrangement. Without flourish, India stands, slips off Aidra's blouse, and lets the thing fall where it lands. Clothes tumble onto plush carpet. Tits hit warm air. India cups and bites like she means it, fingers sliding straight down the front of Aidra's skirt until slick folds give way to deeper pressure. Aidra's breath catches. India knows exactly where to press. Wet fingers working, she toys between Aidra's legs, spreads her wider on the chair, tongues her nipples into hard points, then trades the tease for a relentless thumb on clit and two fingers buried to the knuckle, fucking upward in steady rhythm. Aidra's hips grind down. India's mouth brushes her ear—light teasing promise—and in one motion hooks Aidra's knee over the chair arm, spreads her indecently open, then slides to her knees between Aidra's thighs. Tongue replaces fingers, lazy at first, maddening soft circles turning to hard precise strokes as Aidra whines. India's grip keeps her pinned, refusing any squirm away. The only sounds are slick mouth, wet cunt, and Aidra's broken gasps as her orgasm creeps in sharp and fast. India doesn't let her recover: stands, kisses the taste into Aidra's own mouth, spreads herself on the edge of the desk, legs open in invitation. Aidra tastes her boss—salt and need and velvet warmth. India rides that tongue, fingers gripping the younger woman's hair until her legs quake and she comes. Silence except for breath. Aidra stays on her knees while India reaches for the theft log, tears the page right in front of her, letting the scraps drop like confetti. Aidra's job stays safe, but everything else belongs to India's whim from now on.