The women's washroom in the Grand Mall casting a harsh glow over the gleaming white tiles, the faint drip of a faucet the only sound besides our uneven breaths. The cubicle felt impossibly small, the locked door sealing us in, the distant hum of the mall's shoppers a world away.
Sara sat on the toilet seat, her jacket open, her skirt hiked up, her black stockings looking hot as fire against her thighs. Her boots rested lightly on the floor as she grabbed the hem of her panties, pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion.
She slid them off her legs, tossing them to the tiled floor, her pussy exposed as she parted her legs wider, her sultry gaze locking onto me, bold.
"Kneel down, I said," Sara commanded, her voice low, sharp, a mix of desire and authority, her eyes narrowing slightly, her hands resting on her thighs, daring me to hesitate.
