Where Is Jackie?

Asa's yakking away on her cell when TJ struts into the massage parlor, ready for his rubdown. She hangs up quick, tells him Jackie's running late, so chill in the lobby. Asa? She bolts to the back for a steamy shower, letting the hot water melt her stress. TJ's patience runs dry after ten minutes of nothing. Screw waiting—he marches to the showers to give her an earful. But oh man, what he walks in on: Asa's leaning against the slick tile, fingers buried deep, moaning like she's directing her own private porno. Eyes lock, and instead of shock, she grins wicked. 'Jackie flaked? No sweat, handsome. I'll handle that tension myself.' TJ's no fool; he nods, stripping down as the Nuru gel party kicks off. Slippery bodies sliding, her curves grinding against him—pure naughty bliss.