Jennifer glares at the clock above the door to the server room, wasting precious time she can't afford.
"No, no, no! I'll never make it to my appointment if this keeps up. Damn!" The clock, undeterred continues to wind toward evening.
Jennifer turns back to her computer with a sigh. When web server 2 crashed earlier she assumed it would be a quick fix. Redundancies were in place and all traffic should have automatically shunted to server 3 without a hiccup, but that's not what happened. Now she was getting calls from the sales group every fifteen minutes saying that the website was down and could she please get it up and running ASAP. Like she wasn't already working on the problem as fast as she possibly could. She wasn't sure why they thought pestering her and interrupting her troubleshooting would improve the response time on solving the problem. Maybe they thought she would work faster if she was more annoyed.
"I swear, the next person who tells me the site is down is going to get a thorough review of their surf history sent to HR," she mutters. Another glance at the clock and she realizes she's going to have to make a call herself.
"Tarot Tattoos, how may I help you?"
"Hi. Can I speak to Tara please? This is Jennifer. Jennifer Stephens I have a 9:00 o'clock appointment for a tattoo consult."
"Hey, Jennifer its Tara. I'm looking forward to seeing you tonight. I think you're really going to like the designs I came up with for you. I did up a couple of different schemes and sizes so you'll see what I was talking about the other day. You can pick one of the ones I made or mix and match, whatever you want."
"Uh, Tara I'm so sorry, but something came up and I'm stuck at work. It looks like I'm going to be here for the next several hours."
"Really," Tara asks, "there's no way you'll be able to make it."
"No, I don't think so," I answer, guilt tightening my stomach at the odd sound of disappointment in the young woman's voice. "I don't know where the problem is and they pay me a lot of money to make this sort of thing go away as quick as can be. I know you set aside time to do this tonight and I'm terribly sorry. You already have my credit card info so please charge me for your time. Maybe you can text me with a time next week we can get together?"
"Yeah ok. I'll check my schedule and get back to you tomorrow."
"That sounds good. Ok 'till tomorrow. Bye and sorry again."
"See ya..." Tara replies and hangs up the phone.
Odd Jennifer thinks. Tara seemed more upset about that than I would've thought. She must have been pretty keen on her designs. Oh well, gotta get back to work.
Jennifer closes up her Dell and glances at the hated clock.
Not terrible, only 8:50. I wonder if Tara is still at the shop. It's on the way home, so I guess there's no real reason not to swing by. Doubt it though.
Its 9:40 by the time she pulls up outside Tarot Tattoos. The windows of the shops on either side are already dark, shop owners and patrons both having already headed home to spouses, significant others or perhaps their individual vices. Tara's shop is still lit though the open sign has been turned off. Looking through the window gives no real indication if there is someone still there or not, the shop lobby/waiting room is filled with empty chairs. She approaches the door, placing her keys in her purse and reaching for a pen and post-it. If Tara has already left she'll leave a note.
Jennifer pulls the door handle, surprised to find the door is unlocked.
Wait the deadbolt's been thrown! "
Mmmmmm... mmmmmm... unh... mmmmm."
Shit! What's that sound.
"
Mmmmmm... mmmmmm... unh... mmmmm."
Maybe I should just leave. No, can't do that. What if someone broke in; Tara said she's usually alone here after nine. There've been some attacks in the area here lately.
She backs away from the entrance, grabbing her phone out of her purse.
I'll go back to my car and call the police. They get paid to take risks! God! I'm such a coward. What if that young girl is in there being raped? It'll take the cops at least ten minutes to get here. Fuck it. I can't just stand here and do nothing.
She gathers her courage, pulls the can of mace from purse and presses 91 on her phone. Quietly, cautiously she prowls forward, hoping to stop whatever kind of assault is taking place, hoping her presence will be enough to drive the attacker off. To her left, the wall separating the lobby from the main part of the shop ends. Jennifer presses her back against the wall, leans to the side and pops her head around the wall. Movement in the far corner draws her attention, but Jennifer is too afraid of revealing herself to get a good look. Grunting and muffled moans/screams echo in the mostly empty space of the main room.
Jennifer curses herself for a fool; the smart thing to do would be to run outside and call the cops, but she imagines herself in a similar situation. She would want help immediately, not in five or ten minutes! She quietly puts her purse down and crawls between two reclining chairs mounted on swivels. She eases over to the last mounted chair, pops her head over the back andβ
WTF! She can't believe what she is seeing.
Passed the three chairs where Tara and the other girl ink the clients,
can't remember her name now
, is a rough looking chaise lounge where friends and relatives can wait. Right now, the chair is holding Tara's supine form, her thick sable hair fanning out across the lower half. She isn't the victim of a sexual assault. Well, Jennifer amends, at least not the victim of someone else's sexual assault.
Tara is lying on her back, the olive skin looking fabulous against the dark fabric, her petite frame jackknifed so her legs and feet are above her head, her shimmying booty against the half of the chaise lounge where the armrest lay. Her dainty feet are waving in the air, the purple painted toes flexing and releasing rhythmically. The defined muscles of her thighs and calves move smoothly as she uses her hips to push-off on the armrest. For a little thing Tara has an amazing body: well-toned legs flow smoothly into rounded hips and a bubble butt, tiny, flat waist and big c-cup breasts that seem enormous on her little frame. A frame that glistens with perspiration.
"Unhhhh! Shluuuk...Shluuuk. Schluuurp. Mmmmmmnnn. Mmmnnnnnnnnn," Tara moans.
Jennifer creeps closer, rounding the chair and moving toward the chaise lounge. She halts a few feet away, still on her hands and knees; it puts her on almost the same level as Tara. Tara's right hand is alternating between her breasts, cupping the full, rounded slopes and lightly pulling the dusky-rose colored nipples. Her small hand can only grasp a small part of each breast; the overflowing flesh bounces and jiggles with her manipulations. Her left hand...her left hand is deftly pushing a thick black dildo in and out of her wanting ass. In and out, in and out, short hard thrusts that are occasionally interspersed with twists of the thick veined penetrator. The skin of her anus clings to the dildo seeming unwilling to let it go on the out-strokes and pushes in on each in-stroke intent on sucking the rod deeper. Jennifer's heart races, blood rushes to her core and she can't help but take her full lower lip between her teeth. With her well occupied asshole busy, Jennifer can see the effect the movement is causing on Tara's puffy mound. The outer lips are swollen and red with arousal, the inner lips, bright pink and slick with the tactile need for its own attention. Though she is too far away to see for sure, Jennifer imagines small droplets of those juicy secretions are sliding past those puffy lips to slide south and coat the lubed, rubber intruder below.
Clearly the girl is enjoying the manipulations of both hands. Alone, this would be enough to garner interest and fuel a number of late night jilling sessions featuring tiny waist, big breasted nymphs, but this is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Because above the weeping peach is a small hairless pouch holding two cherry sized balls which in turn rest on a kielbasa sized girl-cock. A cock that dangles over the flat waist, nestles between the soft-round breasts and ends... inside of Tara's mouth.
OMG! She sucking on her own freaking dick!
Mmmuuumph...sssssiiipp...sssslluuup. "Oh... sho goooth," Tara moans around the last few inches of herself. The thick shaft is covered in bulging veins, evidence of the enormous blood flow to the mammoth organ. The girl hunches her hips against the seat, using the motion to push a little more of her shaft into her mouth. By raising her head Tara is able to bob the end of her stick in and out of her mouth. It's impossible to tell for sure, but at a guess the girls cock has to be an impressive nine or ten inches. The wrist-thick shaft is slightly darker than the rest of Tara's skin, with a small tapered head that slides effortlessly into the petite girl's oral cavity.
Jennifer is mesmerized! The sight of the masturbating Tara is the sexiest thing she has ever seen. Better than the futa porn she secretly watches. She slides closer and closer to the oblivious girl wanting, no needing to be closer to the action. When she is just a foot or two away she halts, her eyes traveling from swollen nipples to leaking quim, from sweet quim to flexing anus, and back to thrusting cock where it meets wet, slurping lips.
"Yeah Tara, suck that big ass schlong," she breathes.
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHH," Tara screams and leaps off the chaise lounge. She snaps a towel off the ground and squats in the corner of the room, hazel eyes open wide, her breath heaving in and out. "Please don't hurt me! My purse is on the desk over there."
"Easy Tara, it's me Jennifer."
"Jennifer! What're you doing here; you cancelled? And how'd you get in?"