One Last Favor

They were working against the clock, and so there was no more time for flirting or foreplay. And, truth be told, Thirteen knew she didn't need any foreplay to "get into the mood;" she flitted about the building in a constant and unrelenting state of arousal. Seven was of course well aware of this fact, as it was an arousal that she, too, dealt with on a daily basis, an arousal that all of the girls could confess to. Even as Seven used her right hand to grab purchase of Thirteen's left buttock and pull Thirteen's pussy close and tight against her face, her left was between her own legs, moving furiously back and forth. This may have been a parting gift for Thirteen, but it was apparently one that Seven was going to enjoy, as well.

"You taste like cherry," Seven offered, her voice muffled. It wasn't a question, exactly, so much as an observation.

Seven was on her knees, with her legs spread, and one of the conference table's chairs pushed aside. Thirteen, meanwhile, had her legs draped over her friend's shoulders, and was squeezing the other girl's face between her thighs. She leaned back, using her left hand to steady herself against the table, and her right to pull the girl's head closer into her. She ran her finger's through Seven's hair, not pulling out her bun, but pulling her hair just so, in a way she knew turned Seven on.

Her eyes were closed, in ecstasy, and she concentrated on the waves of pleasure emanating from deep inside her. Seven's tongue was a berserker on a battlefield - working this way and that, running circles around her clit, and then piercing deep inside her folds. Thirteen let loose a low, guttural moan - loud enough to let Seven and Miss Cochran know what sort of effect Seven's mouth was having on her, but soft enough that it wouldn't carry out beyond the room.

"Oh, yes," Thirteen squeaked. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!"

Thirteen had had a one-night stand with a man she'd met at the Imperial, in the aftermath of her brief relationship with Seven. It had started off well, and began hotter and more pleasurable than any intercourse she'd ever shared with Christopher, Brad, Luke, or Mark. But her partner hadn't had the stamina to keep up. He'd gotten her off the first time, but then she'd been forced to take care of herself after that, while he watched on limply. She'd been on her own since then, and though she'd gotten quite skilled at being on her own, her fingers simply couldn't rival Seven's tongue. And the fact that it was here, at the Plaza, while still on duty, only heightened just how turned on that Thirteen was. The fact that it was naughty and forbidden excited her that much more.

She wished she had more time, to luxuriate in the sensations of Seven's mouth on her pussy. But time was never on a mailgirl's side. It was something that Seven seemed to be aware of, as well; she'd gotten quite practiced at eating another girl out over her time with Thirteen, and had apparently been perfecting her technique with the other girls since then. Even if Thirteen had wanted her to linger, had wanted her to tease, had wanted her to take her time, she doubted that Seven would have let her put off her climax if she tried. It hit her hard, fast, and intense - without a build-up so much as an explosion. Thirteen felt her whole body seize up, the orgasm wrapping its fingers around her spine and refusing to let go.

She gasped for air, opened her eyes - and met Miss Cochran's gaze. The girls' fully-dressed monitor was watching them hungrily. Thirteen doubted she'd been keeping much of a lookout. She was flushed, and biting her lower lip. And though she hadn't resorted to touching herself, too, Thirteen knew that look, and knew that Miss Cochran was desperate to, nonetheless. She'd helped Seven spring this surprise upon Thirteen not out of the kindness of her heart, but specifically for this, specifically for the opportunity to play voyeur, specifically to watch the show that Thirteen was putting on.

Thirteen didn't disappoint. It was Seven between her legs, but it was Miss Cochran with whom Thirteen shared the orgasm. A mailgirl was never to make eye contact, unless told to do so; they were mandated to stare blankly, submissively, at the floor. This eye contact - here, now, with Miss Cochran - was therefore that much more deep and powerful, that much more of a no-no. And it made Thirteen's orgasm that much more heightened and all-consuming as a consequence.

In three months, the only orgasm that Thirteen could even compare it to was her first, at home, after her first day at the Plaza. Maybe the second, the following day, in the locker room? Even her first with Seven, as drunk on lust and arousal as they'd been, couldn't rival this; as good as it had felt at the time, neither Seven nor Thirteen had entirely known what they were doing. That was no longer the case. Seven was now a pussy-eating savant. And Thirteen, over the course of the summer, had learned a thing or two about submitting herself to another, handing herself over to someone's else control. She thought about Six, and about Six's confession that she now found it difficult to relieve herself without an audience; without question, this orgasm's intensity owed almost as much to Miss Cochran's presence as it did to Seven herself. Thirteen, even in the midst of such a climax, fretted that she'd never again be able to cum like she'd cum as a mailgirl.

The sound, emanating from deep within Thirteen and escaping into the conference, spoke volumes. It wasn't a shriek or a squeal or a yip. It wasn't for show. It was loud enough that she should have been worried abut it attracting attention for those members of Finance & Accounting still at their desks. But Thirteen had lost all semblance of control. She felt Seven begin to pull back, the muffled sounds of pleasure signaling that she'd reached her own climax, but Thirteen refused to release the other naked blonde. Instead, she held her friend's head in place forcefully, with strength and dominance that surprised even her, and continued to grind her wet, sopping pussy against Seven's mouth. With all the depth of a baritone (bass?), Thirteen sang out one, final series of, "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oooooh!!"

Seven's own orgasm had come and gone, but Thirteen continued to hold tight to the other girl's hair, continued to press forcefully up against the other's girl's face, and rode out the aftershocks of her climax.

She worked hard to catch her breath, and it was only the vibration of the smartphone on her arm that signaled her time was up.

"I'm sorry," Miss Cochran squeaked. Even at that moment, it seemed absurd to Thirteen that anyone would apologize to a mailgirl. "I just, I just don't have any more chits."

Thirteen looked at her blankly, her chest continuing to heave. She let go of Seven's hair.

"I just, I just, I just didn't need those boxes to actually to go anywhere," Miss Cochran continued to stammer. "So I marked it as a pick-up and drop-off. Someone else must be calling you."

How could that have been ten minutes? How was she going to be able to pick herself up and go on to her next delivery from here? She was entirely weak in the knees, and she doubted she'd even be able to stand.

It was Seven who got up first, and then crossed the room to the accountant. She took Miss Cochran's hands in her own, and then leaned down for a kiss. Her hands were sure to be covered in her own juices, and she had to taste of Thirteen's. But Miss Cochran didn't hesitate or object - she leaned into the kiss, and accepted it as the "thank you" that it was.

"It's okay," Seven answered calmly, and then turned back to Thirteen. "I think we're good."

Thirteen, recognizing that she'd left a puddle of sweat on the conference table, peeled her bare skin from the lacquer and stepped to the floor. She had to steady herself against on the unused chair, and knew then and there she'd likely be getting a demerit or two or three on her next pick-up. But, as she looked down at the smartphone on her arm, her back stiffened. Being late wasn't going to be an option - she was being summoned to Human Capital, to Will Barrow's office, up on the 18th Floor.

She didn't need to say anything to Seven - not a thank you, not an expression of love. Seven knew. The look between them was enough.

Seven was still holding one of Miss Cochran's hands as Thirteen dashed past them. If anyone outside the conference room had heard her, they didn't pop their heads up to show themselves, or to confirm who'd just hit a full-throated orgasm in the middle of Finance & Accounting.

"You still owe me," Seven called out teasingly from behind her.

"Tonight," Thirteen called back, hitting a good clip on her way to the stairwell, and feeling her breasts bounce with each footfall.

But, as it turned out, this was a debt that Thirteen would be forced to wait some time to settle.