Veronica flashes Lilly the most innocent smile she can muster. "Really? You think so?"
"I know so," says Lilly. "And you know so, too."
Veronica flits her hands around where the miniskirt meets her thighs (or, rather, doesn't), laying it smooth. Lilly likes it when she's nervous. Veronica figured that out awhile ago. Lilly loves being in charge. Or at least thinking she is. Veronica chose the shortest possible skirt in Lilly's arsenal just for this. She looks up at her best friend, biting her lip. "Everything in your wardrobe is so tiny, Lilly."
"Of course it is," is the answer. "Saves a lot of time, you know."
"Time? What do you mean?" Eyes wide, Veronica, she cautions herself. Sell it.
"I mean that more time can be spent doing this," says Lilly, taking Veronica's narrow wrists and holding them behind her back, then leading her over to Lilly's desk, scattered with magazines but otherwise unused. She bent Veronica down over it, holding her there with a gentle hand at the small of her back. The slinky material, what little of it there is, gets pushed up her thighs, a narrow band of fabric across her ass, with nothing under it.
Lilly's hand smacks hard across Veronica's ass. "You crazy little minx," she says, but there's surprise and delight in her voice. "When'd you take off your panties?"
"When your back was turned," Veronica admits, smiling to herself.
Lilly's finger slides between her pussy lips, meeting no resistance. "God, you're wet," she groans, and this time it's with approval. "You planned this, didn't you?"
"You can't prove that."
She's rewarded with another spank, harder than the first. Lilly might be amused that it's this easy, but she doesn't like getting played. "You're not playing nice, Veronica."
"I'm not the one doing the spanking, Lilly."
"Nope," agrees Lilly cheerfully. "I am. But I won't be doing much of anything unless you ask for it."
A finger, slick from Veronica's own juices, presses against her clit, and Veronica decides she's willing to show her hand. So to speak. "Please?"
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me, Lilly."
"Always so polite," says Lilly, but then obligingly thrusts three slender fingers into Veronica, going as deep as she can manage, drawing a low moan. "Much better," Lilly praises. A stray finger goes to Veronica's clit, and it's both a reward and a message: remember who's in charge.
Veronica squirms and arches into Lilly's talented hands. She moans, adding extra volume for effect, for Lilly's benefit. It works. Lilly rubs harder, until Veronica's hips roll and her thighs shake and she quakes around Lilly's nimble fingers. "Lilly," she gasps, the final touch that isn't entirely for Lilly's benefit, but her own. Satisfaction, both from orgasm and the execution of her plan, renders her limp, and she's grateful for the desk's support. When she finally stands, pulling Lilly's tiny skirt back down to its full (tiny) length, Lilly's sucking on her fingers and looking amused.
"You know," she says, "I have an enormous wardrobe. I'm sure we could find you other things to wear."