Watching through the window, Carla saw Farah straighten up when she heard the shop door open. She stepped down out of the window and walked over toward Annabel; the two of them exchanged greetings and a few sentences passed between them.
From her angle Carla couldn't see Annabel's face, but could tell that her stepmother was having a hard time meeting the younger woman's eyes. She was just starting to worry that Annabel had chickened out when she saw Farah's expression change rapidly -- first shocked, then thoughtful, then a broad smile began to spread across her face.
Carla never did find out exactly what Annabel said -- whether she repeated what Carla had told her, or made up something of her own. It didn't matter, though. Whatever it was, it had worked.
Moving quickly and quietly, Carla slipped inside the shop and closed and locked the door behind her. Farah looked over at her. "I figured you had to be around here somewhere," she said, walking to the door and turning the sign around to say "Closed." Gesturing to Carla and Annabel she said, "Come with me."
She led them to the back of the shop, where there was an office/break room with a desk, couch, and refrigerator. Farah opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Champagne. "We always keep one on chill for special occasions," she said.
Farah popped open the bottle and poured a glass for herself and one for Carla; Annabel's mouth would be otherwise occupied for a while. They clinked glasses. "I had a feeling about you two," said Farah. "I thought you'd be back."
Sitting down on the couch, Farah rolled up her pink skirt, pulled off her white thong, and leaned back with her legs splayed open. She was surprisingly hairy down there, her pussy almost hidden behind an abundant thatch of curls. But she seemed completely at ease in her body; her manner was totally self-confident, as if random customers offered themselves to her all the time. And maybe they did, thought Carla; she was certainly a delicious specimen.
