The Boss And The Client

India Summer kicks back on the couch with her hubby, soaking up a killer foot rub on her day off. Bliss, right? Then her damn phone buzzes, and her man's face sours like he just bit a lemon. She grabs it anyway—turns out one of her girls is out sick, and there's this eager client panting for a masseuse. Hubby's shooting her those 'hell no' death stares, but she smirks and tells the caller she's on it. Man, he flips—'We're supposed to be chilling alone!' She winks, swears she'll hustle back quick and make it worth his while with some extra spice. Seals it with a pinky swear, then bolts out the door like she's late for the party. She rolls up to the parlor, and boom—Tommy Gunn's pacing like a caged stud, already there. 'How long you been waiting, big guy?' she asks. 'Fifteen minutes,' he grunts, eyeing the door. 'Cindy's usually my girl, lets me in slick, but she ghosted.' India nods, cool as ice: 'Yeah, Cindy's down with the flu.' Tommy's brow furrows—'So who's gonna work me over? It's always Cindy.' She flashes that boss-lady grin: 'That'd be me, handsome. Ready to rock your world with a massage.' But then he drops 'Nuru massage,' and she's like, deer in headlights. Never heard of it—she's just the owner, not some rub-down regular. Still, to keep his cash flowing, she's game: 'Walk me through it, and I'll deliver.' He smirks, all cocky, and they head to the shower. Standing there under the spray, India's mind's spinning—'This part of the deal?' Tommy chuckles: 'Yup, Nuru style. Cindy's always stripped bare, soaped us up spotless before the mattress magic.' Her jaw drops—her own spot's been hiding this wild side? Shocked as hell, but business is business, and she ain't losing a regular. Heart pounding, she peels off her clothes, following his lead like a pro-in-training. She keeps it teasing, sensual, but reins it in—no way it's veering too far with the hubby ticking away at home. Then comes cock-washing time, and she's all hesitant fingers and 'I'm married, you know.' Tommy? Zero fucks given, just grins wider. She pushes on, gliding her hands over his shaft, stroking firm but averting her eyes like it's lava. Shower done, they slide into the main room. Tommy stretches out on the air mattress, and India slathers that slippery Nuru gel down his ripped back. 'Hop on,' he says, voice low and commanding—'Body-to-body's the star of the show.' Intimate as fuck, right? Her gut twists, but she steels up and mounts him, skin on skin in a slow, slick glide. Damn, the friction builds heat fast—her breaths quicken as she slips along every inch of him. Spotting his cock rock-hard and throbbing, something primal flips the switch. No more holding back; she dives down, mouth wrapping his length, sucking him deep to prime that beast. By the time she's straddling him, pussy swallowing his dick whole as she rides hard and wild, hubby's waiting game? Forgotten in the filthy thrill.