The Cleaner

Cassidy Klein shuffles around the spa, half-heartedly wiping counters and muttering under her breath that she'd rather be anywhere else. Her music blares in her headphones while she dances like nobody's watching—until she catches sight of Karlie Montana staring at her like she's lost her mind. Cassidy yanks the buds out, heat rising to her cheeks. She apologizes in one breath and begs for a crash course in massage in the next. Karlie volunteers with a smirk, stripping bare before Cassidy can finish her sentence. She stretches out, full frontal, and waits. Cassidy, still oblivious that the game just tilted in Karlie's favor, starts at the feet—warm oil sliding over arches, toes, ankles. Karlie moans, guiding Cassidy's hands upward, over calves and thighs, until they land on her breasts. Cassidy fumbles for a second, but Karlie arches into her palms, nipples stiffening under the pressure. One push lower and Cassidy's fingers brush slick heat. Karlie's legs part wider, expectant. The hint lands. Cassidy leans in, tongue tasting salt and need, licking slow at first, then hungrier. Karlie threads fingers through Cassidy's hair and holds her right where it feels best. When Cassidy finally works out the rhythm—fingers curling, tongue flicking, sucking exactly where Karlie wants—Karlie comes with a satisfied laugh, hips twitching. "Consider yourself trained," she purrs. The happy ending sticks this time.