When he arrives, she seductively signals that he should bring his face close to hers. When he does so, she begins to gently caress his cheek, which is slowly turning a crimson red.
"Are you the owner?" she asks, now softly stroking his face with both hands.
"Actually, no," he replies. "I'm just the manager."
"Can you get him for me? - I need to speak to him," she says, running her hands up beyond his ears and into his hair.
"I'm afraid I can't," breathes the manager, clearly aroused. "He's in the back doing taxes right now. Is......there........er...........anything I can do?"
"Yes, there is. I need you to give him a message," she continues huskily, popping a couple of fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently.
"Tell him," she says, "that there is no toilet paper or hand soap in the ladies room."
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