## This is a story for @jacques by request. Vero is his wife. Jacques, I hope you enjoy it ##
At this height, the sky was a perfect Azure, the puffy white clouds seemed to be far below, and the land impossibly further. There wasn’t much to see from her window seat, but Vero knew that even had they been much lower the endless, scorched continent 30,000 feet beneath the plane would have offered little relief.
She was leaving one life and going to another. Her life in France was over, for now at least. It had been fun, lucrative, and, in various ways, satisfying, but it was time, time for the next thing. Jacques, her husband of less than 2 months, was beside her, dozing peacefully. If not for Jacques she would probably never have left France, or her life there - at least, not yet.
Jacques hadn’t ****** Vero to go to Cameroon he hadn’t even persuaded her - she’d had enough of the work, the constant pressure to be the inviting face of the hostess at the bar and the men, the endless men - at the same time Jacques had been offered the job in Africa. It felt like it was meant to be.
Vero had learned early that her pretty face, hard, lithe, slight body, small breasts with sensitive and responsive nipples, and teasing playful nature gave her power over men. Not just some men - most men. Young men, old men, and men of all shapes, races, and characters.
Vero herself did not understand this at all. Her body was not like those she saw in fashion magazines, huge advertisement posters, or TV - not even like those of many of the girls she knew. If she were to consider what the ideal attractive, sexually unattainable fantasy woman should look like according to the media, she was far removed from it.
It was clear, however, that she did indeed emit a powerful attraction to men, and some women, whether she knew why or not and without ever consciously trying to.
Despite this realization, Vero had been reluctant to wield her power. She'd always been shy - the slightly ethereal, gawky, dreamy kid at the back of group photographs. She'd always had friends and was popular with her peers, but she remained a little removed, even distracted.
Vero hardly ever wore makeup when her circle of friends became obsessed with it, similarly their constant chatter about boys and who was fucking who did little but embarrass her. In an age where sexual freedom and personal liberation were the norm, Vero didn't kiss a boy until she was 14 and didn't lose her virginity until she was nearly 17, something even then that she immediately regretted.
Vero's regular outlet was her mother's vibrator, which she had discovered while searching her closet for clothes to borrow. Stunned and thrilled, she had abandoned her search and took the 10-inch device back to her room. There were fresh batteries, which amazed her as she tried not to think of her mother lying back and fucking herself when her father was out (or did they use it together?), and Vero locked her door and lay on her bed, pulling her summer dress up to the top of her thighs and her knickers down to her knees, stretching them as she parted her legs.
Already a little wet from her discovery and with adrenaline pumping through her veins, she slowly pushed the hard plastic inside her cunt, allowing herself to relax over it and her muscles to stop spasming before pushing it all the way in, making her gasp with pleasure. She fucked herself for the rest of the afternoon until her mother came home from work, coming again and again, using her spare hand on her rock-hard nipples as she pushed the vibrator in and out, in and out, leaving it fully inside her each time she came.
When she heard her mother's car in the driveway she jumped up and swiftly replaced the device in her parent's closet, hoping it was exactly where she had taken it from. She instantly thought of two things which panicked her - firstly the vibrator had her come dripping from it and secondly, the batteries were now almost flat and had been gradually slowing for the last hour.
Quickly Vero wiped it with her dress, making a stain on the light cloth. There was nothing she could do about the batteries and blushed as she hoped her mother would not guess the reason for their exhaustion as she moved silently back to her room, shouting "hi" to her mother as she did so.
Soon, however, Vero became gradually, a little at a time, more and more sexually active until she was usually seeing someone, however intermittently, and always at the exclusion of other men.
Vero never cared how a man looked, clothed or naked - she looked for a connection, for meaningful moments both in bed and out of it. Sex had never been enough for her on its own and she was comfortable walking away when it became clear that wasn't going to happen with this man, in this situation.
She often wondered if there was a part of her libido which did not work as other women’s did. Vero fucked very few men when her friends were taking full advantage of the place and time they were lucky enough to live in - changing and swapping partners every week, seemingly, in an endless quest for unalloyed pleasure, mindless of the consequences in this pre-AIDS world, freed by a little daily pill.
When she did take a man to bed, however, she was no shrinking violet. Vero was as unrestrained in bed as she was restrained out of it - she let her inhibitions go and her guard completely down, giving herself to her partner and the moment, coming hard and often, quick to arousal and slow to be sated.
Eventually, needing to fund herself and in search of adventure and a more cosmopolitan life, Vero upped sticks and moved to the city, initially sharing a flat with two other women that she'd found advertised in the classifieds.
Needing work, and getting desperate, she’d ended up, on the recommendation of a friend to the owner, working at Le Bien Aimé, a bar more expensive than most, with higher-class clientele than the average for the area and an exacting and demanding boss in the form of Jacqueline.
The job was simple and common to thousands of hostess bars around the world - get the clients drinking, and keep them drinking, by whatever means necessary. Any special services were, of course, between you and the customer but if it meant he stayed and bought more champagne, all the better, and your bonus each night would be that much larger, on top of what you kept for your “entertainment”.
Vero, however, and much to the amusement of the other girls, took the job thinking it was a straightforward waitress role - not even suspecting when she was told she had to dress sexily at all times, including lingerie. She had no idea why her lingerie was a factor, but that's what she'd been told to do, so that's what she did.
After she'd been there a few weeks, waiting tables, clearing used glasses, and assiduously avoiding the pats, strokes, gropes, and filthy innuendo of the mainly middle-aged, white, rich, and overweight customers she found herself being studied by the boss, Jacqueline one evening, arms crossed, leaning against a wall in the shadows. When Vero caught her eye she beckoned her over.
Vero finished delivering her drinks and hurried nervously over to see her.
"Vero, what are you doing?", she asked.
"Serving those gentlemen, did I do something wrong?", replied Vero.
"You didn't do something wrong, you didn't do anything at all."
Vero looked confused.
Jacqueline sighed and pushed herself from the wall so that she was closer to Vero's ear and could speak softly, despite the background music and hum of chatter.
"Christ. You don't get it. OK. Let me make it clear. This is a hostess bar. Customers do not pay our ridiculous prices for drinks because they want to. They pay because they get extra attention from the girls. The girls do not walk away when they feel a hand on their arse, or eyes on their cleavage. Girls who may well, although this is entirely up to them, represent the bar in an even more.... accommodating way - do you see?"
Vero looked stunned, searching the face of her boss for any clue that she had misunderstood. There was none, just Jacqueline looking back at her, eyebrows raised, enquiringly.
"I... I.. Jesus... I didn't realize - I thought those other girls, I thought they were....hookers..", stammered Vero.
"No", chuckled Jacqueline, amused, "they are your colleagues and you need to get on with it or get out. Besides, you could at least triple the pittance we pay you on tips alone if you started being more... friendly.."
Vero did the calculation in her head - that was a lot of money. The money she desperately needed. She was on her last warning for the rent and she had maxed out her credit card - it was so damned expensive living in the city. She shook her head, silently, there was no way. This was immoral, she wasn't, well, she wasn't that type of girl...
Reading her thoughts, Jacqueline raised her from her reverie.
"Not that type of girl, I imagine you're thinking. Let me tell you - none of these girls are. They're people with mouths to feed, rent to pay, and bills to meet, in a city that's one of the most expensive on earth and with zero forgiveness for those who fall by the wayside. It's just a job, honey - mechanical. Just a job."
Vero still hadn't spoken.
Jacqueline sighed.
"Look. You're a nice kid. I won't kick you out this month, but, and this is the condition, you spend a week following Jess around - shadow her, learn how she makes her money, how she keeps the men happy, and keeps them buying our ludicrous champagne. Then put it into practice. You don't have to go as far as Jess - she's a slut - but you need to be somewhere in the middle of what you are now and what she is. OK?"
Reluctant, but trapped, at least until she found another job, Vero nodded her agreement.
The next shift, Vero discretely shadowed Jess, as she'd been told. She stayed as near to out of sight as she could but within earshot. She discovered quickly that she wouldn't be needing the notebook she carried. Vero became progressively more stunned at what she saw.
This evening Jess was seated with two businessmen - wealthy - they had more invested in their wristwatches than most people had in their cars, and some in their houses. They had arrived with a flurry of other drinkers, straight from their offices, and now, 3 hours later, were well on their way to being *****, halfway down their fourth bottle of champagne.
They were seated in a luxurious semi-circle booth, acres of soft vintage leather covered the high-backed seats and a round solid oak table sat before them, remnants of food yet to be cleared away and three full champagne flutes resting on the thick white linen cloth.
Jess sat between the two men, who were talking animatedly over her about some business-related in-joke. Jess was laughing politely, her delicate fingers resting on one arm and then the other as she turned to each of them to listen to their profound nonsense as if it was the most exciting subject in the world.
The topic changed dramatically as the man on her left ran his fat, sweaty hand up Jess’s leg, resting on her thigh, the material of her mid-length sheer black dress not concealing the fact that she had suspenders on beneath. It was these straps that the fingers now carefully traced as the man spoke, leaning in confidentially and causing his companion and Jess to do the same. Their heads practically touching, he said, “And so, pretty one, how much would it cost for you to go down on me with that lovely little mouth of yours? 150?”
His friend laughed, then, seeing the look on the other man’s face, he became wide-eyed with excitement and interest. They both looked at Jess, the hand still moving slowly on her thigh. She had not dismissed the idea, which he had known she would not.
“750”, she said.
“500”, came the counter.
“Ok, done.”, said Jess, with no hesitation.
“Will, will you, will you…”, stammered the buyer
“I don’t spit”, said Jess.
The man, having thought himself in charge during the negotiation, was now nervous and sweaty with anticipation. Jess slid under the table, dropping to her knees in one smooth motion. Pulling her dress up to allow her legs to tuck under her, hiding her from sight completely, and ******** her black lingerie, she pulled his zip fly down.
Reaching inside his trousers she felt a small, hardening cock, twitching as she touched it. It was almost buried under rolls of fat and hidden inside large, very unsexy underpants. Frustrated, Jess pulled the trouser button open and dragged them halfway over his thighs, the man squirming and raising himself a little to allow it.
His cock was now free - it was only 4 inches or so - Jess rested her hands on his thighs and lowered her mouth onto it, easily able to pull his balls partly into her mouth as she reached the base.
The man moved his hips in a humping motion - groaning and shaking. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, so Jess took them in hers and placed them on the back of her head, encouraging him to fuck her mouth, which he began to do, pulling her toward him to meet each of his thrusts.
Jess noticed that his friend was bent at the waist, holding up the table cloth and staring at her in amazement as she worked on the man’s cock, She met his eye, hoping that he would want to be next, which would be another easy 500. She realized that would not be necessary as he suddenly grabbed his crotch through his trousers and a damp stain appeared between his legs. She doubted whether he’d watched a blowjob in real life before, and it was simply too much for him.
Moving her tongue expertly on the head of her customer’s cock while sliding her mouth the short length of his shaft, dragging his balls part-way back up, using her teeth gently, but not too gently, she felt him start to spasm and a little early spurt of come hit the roof of her mouth.
Going faster now, she used her tongue and lips to encourage and force him - to come. She was breathing hard through her nose and as he began to fill her mouth she enclosed his entire cock and held his balls tightly, feeling them jump in her hand. He came a surprisingly large amount, and it went on for some time. Jess’s mouth was full as she pulled away from him, carefully pushing his softening cock back into his trousers.
Staying under the table, Jess took his hand and placed it around her own throat, squeezing firmly to make sure he realized it was OK that he did the same, As he gripped her she slowly swallowed his come, taking it a little at a time, making sure he could feel every last drop leaving her mouth and traveling down her throat,
When she was done, she rose from under the table and sat between them once more, wiping her hand and lips with a linen napkin, smiling beatifically as she was handed her money,
Stumbling over his words, her customer thanked her, and asked, with genuine curiosity, if she liked going down on men - certain that her answer would be either a lie or a negative.
In answer, Jess held his gaze, reached slowly under the table, and pulled the hem of her dress up. Spreading her legs she took his hand and ran it up her inner thigh until his chubby fingers rested on her knickers. As he seemed a little bewildered and out of his depth, she pulled the thin material aside and, using her fingers, pushed two of his inside her dripping wet cunt. He gasped in shock as she gave a little moan.
Removing his hand, she closed her legs and watched as he held his hand in front of his face, staring at it in wonder as he parted his fingers and saw the slick wetness from Jess’s cunt form a sticky bridge between them before dripping to his wrist and onto his shirt cuff.
“Does that answer your question?”, said Jess.
Vero watched all this without blinking, it seemed. She was still standing a few feet away in the half-shadow some minutes later as Jess left the table, kissing her guests lightly on the cheek, receiving a proprietorial pat on her arse in return. Jess brushed past Vero. Grinning, she touched Vero's chin with a curled finger, saying, "Close your mouth, darling."
Vero eventually snapped out of it and retreated to the staff dressing room. It was the end of her shift, and as she sat to remove her shoes from her aching feet, crossing an ankle over her thigh to bring one of them within reach, she felt a trickle run from between her legs and onto her skirt. Reddening, she realized Jess's little show had aroused her more than she cared to admit.
She needed some sleep - the next shift was in 12 hours.
At this height, the sky was a perfect Azure, the puffy white clouds seemed to be far below, and the land impossibly further. There wasn’t much to see from her window seat, but Vero knew that even had they been much lower the endless, scorched continent 30,000 feet beneath the plane would have offered little relief.
She was leaving one life and going to another. Her life in France was over, for now at least. It had been fun, lucrative, and, in various ways, satisfying, but it was time, time for the next thing. Jacques, her husband of less than 2 months, was beside her, dozing peacefully. If not for Jacques she would probably never have left France, or her life there - at least, not yet.
Jacques hadn’t ****** Vero to go to Cameroon he hadn’t even persuaded her - she’d had enough of the work, the constant pressure to be the inviting face of the hostess at the bar and the men, the endless men - at the same time Jacques had been offered the job in Africa. It felt like it was meant to be.
Vero had learned early that her pretty face, hard, lithe, slight body, small breasts with sensitive and responsive nipples, and teasing playful nature gave her power over men. Not just some men - most men. Young men, old men, and men of all shapes, races, and characters.
Vero herself did not understand this at all. Her body was not like those she saw in fashion magazines, huge advertisement posters, or TV - not even like those of many of the girls she knew. If she were to consider what the ideal attractive, sexually unattainable fantasy woman should look like according to the media, she was far removed from it.
It was clear, however, that she did indeed emit a powerful attraction to men, and some women, whether she knew why or not and without ever consciously trying to.
Despite this realization, Vero had been reluctant to wield her power. She'd always been shy - the slightly ethereal, gawky, dreamy kid at the back of group photographs. She'd always had friends and was popular with her peers, but she remained a little removed, even distracted.
Vero hardly ever wore makeup when her circle of friends became obsessed with it, similarly their constant chatter about boys and who was fucking who did little but embarrass her. In an age where sexual freedom and personal liberation were the norm, Vero didn't kiss a boy until she was 14 and didn't lose her virginity until she was nearly 17, something even then that she immediately regretted.
Vero's regular outlet was her mother's vibrator, which she had discovered while searching her closet for clothes to borrow. Stunned and thrilled, she had abandoned her search and took the 10-inch device back to her room. There were fresh batteries, which amazed her as she tried not to think of her mother lying back and fucking herself when her father was out (or did they use it together?), and Vero locked her door and lay on her bed, pulling her summer dress up to the top of her thighs and her knickers down to her knees, stretching them as she parted her legs.
Already a little wet from her discovery and with adrenaline pumping through her veins, she slowly pushed the hard plastic inside her cunt, allowing herself to relax over it and her muscles to stop spasming before pushing it all the way in, making her gasp with pleasure. She fucked herself for the rest of the afternoon until her mother came home from work, coming again and again, using her spare hand on her rock-hard nipples as she pushed the vibrator in and out, in and out, leaving it fully inside her each time she came.
When she heard her mother's car in the driveway she jumped up and swiftly replaced the device in her parent's closet, hoping it was exactly where she had taken it from. She instantly thought of two things which panicked her - firstly the vibrator had her come dripping from it and secondly, the batteries were now almost flat and had been gradually slowing for the last hour.
Quickly Vero wiped it with her dress, making a stain on the light cloth. There was nothing she could do about the batteries and blushed as she hoped her mother would not guess the reason for their exhaustion as she moved silently back to her room, shouting "hi" to her mother as she did so.
Soon, however, Vero became gradually, a little at a time, more and more sexually active until she was usually seeing someone, however intermittently, and always at the exclusion of other men.
Vero never cared how a man looked, clothed or naked - she looked for a connection, for meaningful moments both in bed and out of it. Sex had never been enough for her on its own and she was comfortable walking away when it became clear that wasn't going to happen with this man, in this situation.
She often wondered if there was a part of her libido which did not work as other women’s did. Vero fucked very few men when her friends were taking full advantage of the place and time they were lucky enough to live in - changing and swapping partners every week, seemingly, in an endless quest for unalloyed pleasure, mindless of the consequences in this pre-AIDS world, freed by a little daily pill.
When she did take a man to bed, however, she was no shrinking violet. Vero was as unrestrained in bed as she was restrained out of it - she let her inhibitions go and her guard completely down, giving herself to her partner and the moment, coming hard and often, quick to arousal and slow to be sated.
Eventually, needing to fund herself and in search of adventure and a more cosmopolitan life, Vero upped sticks and moved to the city, initially sharing a flat with two other women that she'd found advertised in the classifieds.
Needing work, and getting desperate, she’d ended up, on the recommendation of a friend to the owner, working at Le Bien Aimé, a bar more expensive than most, with higher-class clientele than the average for the area and an exacting and demanding boss in the form of Jacqueline.
The job was simple and common to thousands of hostess bars around the world - get the clients drinking, and keep them drinking, by whatever means necessary. Any special services were, of course, between you and the customer but if it meant he stayed and bought more champagne, all the better, and your bonus each night would be that much larger, on top of what you kept for your “entertainment”.
Vero, however, and much to the amusement of the other girls, took the job thinking it was a straightforward waitress role - not even suspecting when she was told she had to dress sexily at all times, including lingerie. She had no idea why her lingerie was a factor, but that's what she'd been told to do, so that's what she did.
After she'd been there a few weeks, waiting tables, clearing used glasses, and assiduously avoiding the pats, strokes, gropes, and filthy innuendo of the mainly middle-aged, white, rich, and overweight customers she found herself being studied by the boss, Jacqueline one evening, arms crossed, leaning against a wall in the shadows. When Vero caught her eye she beckoned her over.
Vero finished delivering her drinks and hurried nervously over to see her.
"Vero, what are you doing?", she asked.
"Serving those gentlemen, did I do something wrong?", replied Vero.
"You didn't do something wrong, you didn't do anything at all."
Vero looked confused.
Jacqueline sighed and pushed herself from the wall so that she was closer to Vero's ear and could speak softly, despite the background music and hum of chatter.
"Christ. You don't get it. OK. Let me make it clear. This is a hostess bar. Customers do not pay our ridiculous prices for drinks because they want to. They pay because they get extra attention from the girls. The girls do not walk away when they feel a hand on their arse, or eyes on their cleavage. Girls who may well, although this is entirely up to them, represent the bar in an even more.... accommodating way - do you see?"
Vero looked stunned, searching the face of her boss for any clue that she had misunderstood. There was none, just Jacqueline looking back at her, eyebrows raised, enquiringly.
"I... I.. Jesus... I didn't realize - I thought those other girls, I thought they were....hookers..", stammered Vero.
"No", chuckled Jacqueline, amused, "they are your colleagues and you need to get on with it or get out. Besides, you could at least triple the pittance we pay you on tips alone if you started being more... friendly.."
Vero did the calculation in her head - that was a lot of money. The money she desperately needed. She was on her last warning for the rent and she had maxed out her credit card - it was so damned expensive living in the city. She shook her head, silently, there was no way. This was immoral, she wasn't, well, she wasn't that type of girl...
Reading her thoughts, Jacqueline raised her from her reverie.
"Not that type of girl, I imagine you're thinking. Let me tell you - none of these girls are. They're people with mouths to feed, rent to pay, and bills to meet, in a city that's one of the most expensive on earth and with zero forgiveness for those who fall by the wayside. It's just a job, honey - mechanical. Just a job."
Vero still hadn't spoken.
Jacqueline sighed.
"Look. You're a nice kid. I won't kick you out this month, but, and this is the condition, you spend a week following Jess around - shadow her, learn how she makes her money, how she keeps the men happy, and keeps them buying our ludicrous champagne. Then put it into practice. You don't have to go as far as Jess - she's a slut - but you need to be somewhere in the middle of what you are now and what she is. OK?"
Reluctant, but trapped, at least until she found another job, Vero nodded her agreement.
The next shift, Vero discretely shadowed Jess, as she'd been told. She stayed as near to out of sight as she could but within earshot. She discovered quickly that she wouldn't be needing the notebook she carried. Vero became progressively more stunned at what she saw.
This evening Jess was seated with two businessmen - wealthy - they had more invested in their wristwatches than most people had in their cars, and some in their houses. They had arrived with a flurry of other drinkers, straight from their offices, and now, 3 hours later, were well on their way to being *****, halfway down their fourth bottle of champagne.
They were seated in a luxurious semi-circle booth, acres of soft vintage leather covered the high-backed seats and a round solid oak table sat before them, remnants of food yet to be cleared away and three full champagne flutes resting on the thick white linen cloth.
Jess sat between the two men, who were talking animatedly over her about some business-related in-joke. Jess was laughing politely, her delicate fingers resting on one arm and then the other as she turned to each of them to listen to their profound nonsense as if it was the most exciting subject in the world.
The topic changed dramatically as the man on her left ran his fat, sweaty hand up Jess’s leg, resting on her thigh, the material of her mid-length sheer black dress not concealing the fact that she had suspenders on beneath. It was these straps that the fingers now carefully traced as the man spoke, leaning in confidentially and causing his companion and Jess to do the same. Their heads practically touching, he said, “And so, pretty one, how much would it cost for you to go down on me with that lovely little mouth of yours? 150?”
His friend laughed, then, seeing the look on the other man’s face, he became wide-eyed with excitement and interest. They both looked at Jess, the hand still moving slowly on her thigh. She had not dismissed the idea, which he had known she would not.
“750”, she said.
“500”, came the counter.
“Ok, done.”, said Jess, with no hesitation.
“Will, will you, will you…”, stammered the buyer
“I don’t spit”, said Jess.
The man, having thought himself in charge during the negotiation, was now nervous and sweaty with anticipation. Jess slid under the table, dropping to her knees in one smooth motion. Pulling her dress up to allow her legs to tuck under her, hiding her from sight completely, and ******** her black lingerie, she pulled his zip fly down.
Reaching inside his trousers she felt a small, hardening cock, twitching as she touched it. It was almost buried under rolls of fat and hidden inside large, very unsexy underpants. Frustrated, Jess pulled the trouser button open and dragged them halfway over his thighs, the man squirming and raising himself a little to allow it.
His cock was now free - it was only 4 inches or so - Jess rested her hands on his thighs and lowered her mouth onto it, easily able to pull his balls partly into her mouth as she reached the base.
The man moved his hips in a humping motion - groaning and shaking. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, so Jess took them in hers and placed them on the back of her head, encouraging him to fuck her mouth, which he began to do, pulling her toward him to meet each of his thrusts.
Jess noticed that his friend was bent at the waist, holding up the table cloth and staring at her in amazement as she worked on the man’s cock, She met his eye, hoping that he would want to be next, which would be another easy 500. She realized that would not be necessary as he suddenly grabbed his crotch through his trousers and a damp stain appeared between his legs. She doubted whether he’d watched a blowjob in real life before, and it was simply too much for him.
Moving her tongue expertly on the head of her customer’s cock while sliding her mouth the short length of his shaft, dragging his balls part-way back up, using her teeth gently, but not too gently, she felt him start to spasm and a little early spurt of come hit the roof of her mouth.
Going faster now, she used her tongue and lips to encourage and force him - to come. She was breathing hard through her nose and as he began to fill her mouth she enclosed his entire cock and held his balls tightly, feeling them jump in her hand. He came a surprisingly large amount, and it went on for some time. Jess’s mouth was full as she pulled away from him, carefully pushing his softening cock back into his trousers.
Staying under the table, Jess took his hand and placed it around her own throat, squeezing firmly to make sure he realized it was OK that he did the same, As he gripped her she slowly swallowed his come, taking it a little at a time, making sure he could feel every last drop leaving her mouth and traveling down her throat,
When she was done, she rose from under the table and sat between them once more, wiping her hand and lips with a linen napkin, smiling beatifically as she was handed her money,
Stumbling over his words, her customer thanked her, and asked, with genuine curiosity, if she liked going down on men - certain that her answer would be either a lie or a negative.
In answer, Jess held his gaze, reached slowly under the table, and pulled the hem of her dress up. Spreading her legs she took his hand and ran it up her inner thigh until his chubby fingers rested on her knickers. As he seemed a little bewildered and out of his depth, she pulled the thin material aside and, using her fingers, pushed two of his inside her dripping wet cunt. He gasped in shock as she gave a little moan.
Removing his hand, she closed her legs and watched as he held his hand in front of his face, staring at it in wonder as he parted his fingers and saw the slick wetness from Jess’s cunt form a sticky bridge between them before dripping to his wrist and onto his shirt cuff.
“Does that answer your question?”, said Jess.
Vero watched all this without blinking, it seemed. She was still standing a few feet away in the half-shadow some minutes later as Jess left the table, kissing her guests lightly on the cheek, receiving a proprietorial pat on her arse in return. Jess brushed past Vero. Grinning, she touched Vero's chin with a curled finger, saying, "Close your mouth, darling."
Vero eventually snapped out of it and retreated to the staff dressing room. It was the end of her shift, and as she sat to remove her shoes from her aching feet, crossing an ankle over her thigh to bring one of them within reach, she felt a trickle run from between her legs and onto her skirt. Reddening, she realized Jess's little show had aroused her more than she cared to admit.
She needed some sleep - the next shift was in 12 hours.
