Just A Little Foot Rub...

Chanel dragged her ass through the door after eight hours balancing plates. She kicked off her clogs and winced like she'd stepped on LEGOs. "Feet are toast," she groaned, dropping onto the couch. Summer peered over her laptop. "Park 'em here." She patted the cushion, all sweet smiles and innocent offers. Chanel swung her feet up and Summer started working her thumbs under the arch. Soon the "ouch"s melted into little gasps that went straight south of Chanel's belt. Suddenly her thigh flexed. "Might as well keep going, you know... calves need love too," she blurted. Summer didn't bat an eye. Hands slid higher. Ten minutes later Chanel was chewing her lip and claiming she'd thrown her back out in the last two hours. Off came the shirt. Summer straddled the back of her thighs and dug knuckles between her shoulder blades. That's when a very obvious, very wet spot bled through Chanel's work slacks. Summer snorted. "Oh, this is cute." She slipped her fingers under the waistband, pulled the fabric down with one quick tug. "You could've just said you wanted the full treatment."