Interview with Jo

Jo sits there like she knows exactly what you’re thinking. The interviewer leans in first. She doesn’t wait for questions; she opens her legs and lets the silk robe slip off one shoulder. The blonde hair falls forward, brushing her nipple. Her fingers move between her thighs without hurry, parting soft skin and finding the wetness she’s been carrying since morning. She drags two fingers up the length of her slit, spreads it, then circles her clit slow enough for the camera to catch the shine. A brunette strand sticks to her lower lip when she laughs, because the idea of being watched this close still turns her on. She pushes two fingers inside, palm pressed hard, hips rolling once, twice, the muscles in her stomach tightening each time. The interviewer asks about hobbies. She answers without taking her hand away, voice steady, fingers pumping deeper, knuckles glistening. When she comes, she keeps her eyes open, lets the twitch run through her until her wrist is dripping and the chair beneath her shows a dark wet spot. She licks her fingers clean, smiles, and tells him to ask the next question.