Stepping foot into the shop - 2.

The second she steps in, her dark eyes sweep across the floor and lock on the crew working the cars. Oil-stained hands grip wrenches, tight shirts cling to shoulders. She smiles, slow, like she's already undressed every one of them. After a long day on her feet the ache still burns, but it's a different kind of ache now. One mechanic leans against a hood and watches her heels click closer. She stops in front of him, lifts one foot and sets it lightly on his thigh. The heel presses into denim. He swallows. She slides the shoe off, rests her bare sole right where she wants him to feel it, and pushes. He hardens beneath the pressure. She lowers herself, knee down on the cool concrete, takes him in her mouth while her free foot keeps moving over the other man's zipper, toes curling, heel pressing, finding rhythm without mercy. The shop smells of grease and sweat. Her tongue works slow, deliberate, as her arches flex and rub, teasing two hard cocks at once, driving them crazy until someone grabs her ankle and holds it tight against him. She moans around the shaft in her throat and keeps going.