Thirteen Hours by Meghan O'Brien

A.M.
    T his is gonna be bad, isn’t it?” Laurel asked.
    “Oh, I think it’s very good.” Dana beamed. “I dare you to finish that dance you were giving me earlier.”
    “Oh, God. For real?”
    “Fair is fair. Scott paid for it, after all.”
    “You don’t think you got his money’s worth out of me yet?”
    Dana shook her head. “Nope. I got to see the perfect breasts, but you pulled those jeans back on before I had time to enjoy the rest of you. How can we say that my birthday is complete?” She gestured over at Laurel’s iPod, which sat at the other side of the elevator car. “You’ve got the music. Piece of cake.”
    Laurel’s face turned an interesting shade of red. “It won’t be easy doing a lap dance while you’re sitting on the floor.” Leaning over to her backpack, she produced the can of whipped cream with a challenging grin. “Shall I use this, too?”
    Dana licked her lips, feeling faint at the thought. “How about we save that for later?” I’d rather kiss you first.
    “Okay.” Laurel seemed to be warming to the idea. She set the can aside, stood up, and kicked her shoes off into the corner. “So you just want to sit there?”
    Dana nodded happily. “And watch.”
    “And watch,” Laurel murmured. “Right.”
    She picked up her iPod and made a quick adjustment to the volume as music blared. Immediately her hips began to sway with the beat, and she propped the iPod against the wall, hitched her T-shirt up to just below her breasts, and launched into a seductive dance. Just like that, she was all confidence.
    The hem of her pale yellow T-shirt remained gripped in her hands, and she lifted and lowered it as she danced, sometimes revealing the undersides of her firm breasts, but never the dusky pink nipples Dana ached to see again. Now that she had given herself permission to enjoy it, Laurel’s dancing was one of the sexiest things Dana had ever seen.
    Her palms were sweating.
    “Do you always tease this much?” she asked.
    “Always,” Laurel answered, her voice honey-smooth.
    She raised a suggestive eyebrow at Dana, then eased her T-shirt up and over her head. After tossing it on the floor, she ran one hand through her dark, tousled hair and grinned. This time, Dana let her gaze slide over Laurel’s flesh with far more than a casual interest. She stared openly at the most perfect pair of naked female breasts she had ever seen in real life. Happy birthday to me. She grinned back.
    “You like?” Laurel covered both breasts with her hands, cupping her flesh and giving it a seductive squeeze.
    Dana managed a mindless nod, her eyes fixed on Laurel’s hands.
    “Want to see more?” Laurel rubbed her bare breasts together for a moment before sliding her hands down over her stomach to the button on the front of her blue jeans.
    “Please,” Dana rasped. Thank you, Scott. You devious, underhanded, wonderful son of a bitch.
    With a slow smile, Laurel unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans with one hand, and then brought both to grip the waistband to start another slow tease. Down a little, up, down again, then up once more. Dana felt dizzy at the seductive promise in her gaze.
    “Breathe, honey,” Laurel murmured over the music.
    Dana released one explosive breath, and could hardly draw the next. Her tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of her mouth as Laurel turned, offering a nice view of her jean-clad ass. Giggling, she lowered the waistband of her jeans, but this time kept going, pushing the denim over her hips and down her shapely thighs. She dropped her pants when she had them to her knees. Bent over at the waist, she presented Dana with the most perfect nearly naked female bottom she had ever seen in real life.
    Those weren’t the panties she recalled from her covert glance back in the office. She was wearing a g-string. Dana wondered if she’d somehow fallen asleep earlier in the evening, and was trapped in the most erotic porn movie dream she could imagine. Stuff like this