She's So Rude, Let's Get You Off That Phone

Little Puck’s got the table warmed up, towels folded just right when Chloe Surreal strolls in. The CEO’s glued to her phone—snapping at some flunky about margins and Mondays. Puck rolls up her sleeves, palms sliding over those tight shoulders while Chloe keeps barking orders. Screw the corporate drama. Puck leans close and murmurs, “Put the phone down. Let me do my job.” Chloe’s fingers hesitate, but she kills the call. Puck’s oiled hands sink deeper—thumbs digging slow circles into knots the size of elevator buttons. Tension pours out of Chloe with every breathy exhale. Puck slides the sheet lower, hips pushing into it with her weight. She finds the sweet spot where thigh meets ass, swiping heavy thumbs into that pressure point that turns groans into whimpers. A quick knee nudge and Chloe spreads for her. Puck glides slick fingers between silky lips, thumb circling the stiff little bud that’s already pulsing. Two fingers curl in next, smooth and relentless, while Chloe’s moans drip down the towel. Puck works that dripping heat until legs shake and the client breaks open on a sharp, soaked cry—pussy fluttering, squirting across Puck’s knuckles like a job well done. No client, no stress—just release, hot and slick under the low lights.