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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