She sweeps in slow circles, ass swaying just out of reach as the broom drags across the tile. Then—one hand slips down her thigh, fingers disappearing between those thick legs while she hums along to nothing. The door creaks open just enough for you to see her knuckles flexing deeper inside, hips rolling like she’s already imagining something harder. When she finally turns around, that smirk says ‘I’ve been waiting.’—then drops to her knees right there on the rug for what comes next.
