Charisma stretched, her full breasts rising. “Damn, but that was a long session,” she complained as she moved muscles made sore by holding an uncomfortable position for too long. Estrella muttered something depreciative in Spanish that was definitely in accordance with the first woman’s statement, but most likely not as noncommittal.
Ms. Pru sailed in, cool as ever. She surveyed them, mouth pursed, then: “Charisma and Estrella, you’re both wanted in Ms. Atlin’s office. Change into PVC and darker makeup. And do something with your hair, girls. You look a sight. No showers, though; she specifically requested that you come dirty from your last encounter.” Her glance slipped over to Jocelyn, and she smiled thinly. “Shower off and go home, dear. You’re done for the day.”
“Putana,”
