But if I had met Jackie somewhere else, they would be damp in a very good way, she thought, eying the other woman. Jackie, she thought, was a few years older than herself, but probably not even thirty. Tall and lean, with legs that seemed to go on forever under the beige cloth of her longish skirt, she resembled a volleyball player or swimmer, with well-muscled shoulders. Her eyes were a flat, suspicious brown, and her dark hair was bound at the nape of her neck by a simple gray scrunchie.
But it was her chest and ass that had drawn her admiration from the first. Her boobs were spectacular, easily d-cups, and sat atop her chest with a casual arrogance that made Danielle want to peel off the unflattering blouse and explore to her heart’s content. And when she turned around to lead her into
