What Was The Procedure?

Lois pinched Maria's nipples harder, feeling the metal bar of her piercings through the stiff flesh. The crotch of her pants felt like a swamp, and the reporter could swear she felt rivulets trickling down her legs. She wanted nothing more than to take this young woman, right here and now...but not yet, not yet...

"What was the procedure?" Lois asked, voice low and breathy. Her lips found their way to Maria's neck, planting a warm kiss there, running her tongue along the soft, clean flesh... Maria gasped, leaning against Lois, one of her hands resting against the reporter's thigh.

"They gave them something to drink. Then they exposed them to a s-stone. Some kind of weird mineral, from a meteorite. Something about the radiation..." The young bartender moaned gently under Lois' caresses.

Lois switched her grip, cupping those full, ripe tits and squeezing hard. They were bigger than her own breasts...and she had never had a chance to play with another woman's breasts before. Marveled at the heft of them, the heat. A pang of jealousy shot through her. She took her lips off of Maria long enough to ask another question.

"There must be an office—somewhere they keep records of their experiments. Files. Do you know where?" The reporter's hot breath panted against Maria's skin.

Shakily, the young woman raised a hand, pointing down the hall. Not letting go of the young woman's tits for even an instant, Lois took a step that way, half-pushing Maria in front of her.

It was an awkward shuffle. Maria didn't seem to know what to do with her hands, and Lois' focus was divided between getting to where they needed to go and groping Maria. As they came to an unmarked office door, the barmaid came to a halt.

"Th-this is it." Maria swallowed. "B-but they keep it locked." Lois heard the hesitation in the barmaid's voice as she went on. "I-I can open it...if you want to go a bit lower."

Lois let her right hand slip from around Maria's right tit—slide down over that soft stomach, to the waistband of her skirt—and down under that fingers brushing the little landing strip of pubic hair, down to the warm, wet cleft. The reporter crooked her fingers and clenched, driving them in and up into the hot, slick channel...and Maria's moan was her reward. The reporter rubbed herself against Maria's ass, wishing she could touch herself like that...but not yet.

Maria's fingers fumbled at the lock. The reporter noted the combination on the pinpad, the barmaid's hand against the plate for the biometric lock—and a part of he wondered how help staff in the bar upstairs could have access to this room...and part of Lois' brain screamed out that this wasn't right, but then the door clicked open.