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Fuck me, Mr. Locke (5)

Chantelle

The next day, I wore the shortest work skirt I owned—a black leather skirt that stopped mid-thigh. I paired it with a black mesh top layered over a very low-cut bralette.

It was tight and accentuated my curves. Walking down the street, I got plenty of second glances and loud compliments.

Simon, the security guy, did a double take, and when he realized I’d noticed, he stared at the floor until I passed.

I got to the office before Mr. Locke, thankfully. He had already added my ...

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