"No talking." The question is totally rhetorical, of course. "Only speak if I say 'tell me.'" It just feels odd, putting verbal stops in place, if Pearl doesn't first infringe upon them. It's more fun when it feels like a consequence.

"You have plenty to think about as it is," a wispy purr when another button drifts free, "don't you? Watching me, " she makes another blind squeeze beneath her shirt, "get properly dressed," another button plucked away: neckline plunging to the beginning of her soft belly, "to deal with your selfish little mess of a pussy."

She leans: shoulder bracing between the stall and wall: giving Pearl a banquet view of her shirt start to slip lappingly low: the beginning swell of breast. The buttons are abandoned only mostly done. "You seem to have a hard time, handling it on your lonesome."

Thumbing the waistband of her bottoms, Rose makes a plush sound of pleasure and lets her hips cant forward, just sipping at an imagined fiction, and the plump moan turns to words halfway through. A command: "Set it higher."