Canceled appointment

The door stayed shut. Jacline glanced at the clock, shrugged, and began to undress. She climbed onto the massage table, skin warm against the cool vinyl, knees wide. Fingers dipped between her folds, slow at first, then quicker, chasing a rhythm only her body knew. She bit her lip, arched, and pressed harder—thumb circling, two fingers sliding in, slick and insistent. The empty room filled with soft gasps and the steady slap of skin. When the pleasure crested she let it crash through her, thighs quivering, chest flushed. She lay there a moment, catching her breath, then reached for the towel with a lazy, satisfied smile. Appointment canceled—problem solved.