Hailey was often always misread or mistakenly labeled at times, especially whenever she was at work. Her petite frame, bright smile that was framed by her beautiful lips, her twinkling blue eyes that definitely shone whenever she was happy, or whenever she had something mischievous going on in her mind. She was always painted by a thick brush generally, as being the the good, pure, and sometimes altogether innocent young woman – which would be a far stretch, almost as if it was ludicrous in her mind. Sure, Hailey loved the thought that people think of her well. The generalization never really bothered her as a young woman working as a server in one of the more popular and infamous bars in downtown New York.
The place was popular because of its infamy.
Not many who knew Hailey really knows who she was and how she was personality-wise. She was similar to one of her coworkers, Cassie – into which she was a little pocket rocket of a young woman, always eyeing men rather blatantly and playfully being that prototypical little Latina. Hailey, on the other hand, was more subtle. She loved having sex, despite her initial imagery of her being the clean, white picket fence young woman. She had explored herself, slept with men who showed her interest, and sometimes the occasional women who showed interest. Where Cassie, her friend, loved to eye-fuck any men, Hailey liked to pursue ones that interest her. Declan interested her.
Originally one of her customers, Hailey nowadays found herself in his throes almost every single time he came by, and how could she not? He played off from her hidden side very well, the other half to her perverted, kinkier side. Every time she did, he played her like a fiddle, making music out of using her body as his instrument, eliciting cries and moans from her, melodies of sexual pleasure and arousal from the blonde. This night it was no different, to be fair.
She stepped out from his bedroom, having brought something from home, a part of her past, as Hailey stepped out from the door, clad in her old school uniform, complete with a tie and socks, as she turned around.
“Still fits me.” She smirked, walking up to Declan as she paraded himself in front of her. The plaid skirt fell just over her knees, as she fiddled with the hem. “Skirt’s still regulation length. Though whenever I’m away from the teachers and in front of the boys, I wore it a little high. Like this.”
Her hands began to roll the waistband of the skirt, hiking up her skirt until the curve of the lilt of her ass was barely visible, a glimpse of her white lacy number underneath. She swayed her hips lightly.
“Like it, Daddy?” She teased. “Me being your innocent little school girl?” // @makingmepop
