Reluctant Realtor

Realtor Penny Pax walks Chanel Preston through the empty warehouse, pointing out square footage and light. Chanel nods, tells her the space would suit her company just fine, then casually mentions they make dildos. Penny flinches, her mind jumping straight to eviction clauses. Chanel clocks the reaction, pulls a rolling chair close, and opens her sample kit. The toys clack against metal—glass rods, chrome wands, heavy plugs that gleam under the ceiling strips. Penny chews her lip, hands in her pockets, but she can’t look away. Chanel steps behind her, palms warm on her shoulders, says every woman needs to know how to take care of herself before she takes care of clients. That lands. Penny’s breathing quickens. She leans forward, points to a curved glass piece with a fat head, and Chanel smiles like she just won a bet. The jacket drops, then the bra; Channel’s thumbs roll Penny’s nipples stiff before sliding those panties to her knees. Penny leans over the conference table, slick already, mind gone, the lease forgotten. Chanel works her open with one hand and teases with the glass in the other, and every moan Penny lets out sounds a lot like ‘sold.’