<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cd/73/a7/cd73a732bf24b4f2f5d76d1e8eff7c64.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Mariska Moon<br/><strong>Age:</strong>26<br/><strong>Sexual Identity:</strong>Lesbiflexiaggressive<br/><strong>Position:</strong><del>scissor</del>Operator<br/><br/>UnHoly.<br/>Shit.<br/><br/>It was pretty impressive how quickly New Girl had shifted from shrinking violet on the phone to Gypsy Rose Do Me in person. Maybe she really didn't like dick, but didn't mind being ogled and pawed at by chicks?  In which case, the day had just gotten a lot better.<br/><br/>It got better still as Belinda also got into the 'show don't tell' mood, drenching herself and starting to strip down. Mar couldn't really compete- she was between the two of them in size, and had piercings where they didn't (though she'd be happy to add a few to Tserin, if she liked), but basic black leather didn't function too well as wet t-shirt material. And God Dammit, she had too many clasps and shit to really get into the stripathon in any sort of full-on way. So she leaned up against the sharp metal edge of Tserin's kennel- and thanked the leather then, to be sure- and settled in to enjoy the show.  Belinda, surprisingly, fucked up getting her blouse off, which was both funny and sad, but watching new Girl help her with it was totally a popcorn moment.<em>Without</em>the ghost pepper powder the company vending machines spewed all over the stuff in the snack room. Chewing at her bottom lip, she waited for New Girl to get her hands on Belinda, and maybe her teeth, too-<br/><br/>And. Her fucking phone. RANG.<br/><br/>She knew it was hers because her Away From Desk tone was...distinctive. It was, in fact Sasha Grey yowling dirty talk, cribbed from a very hot gangbang vid.<br/><br/>"Shit."<br/><br/>Exhibiting a trait that had Corporate screening her for witch blood every two weeks, she all but levitated back to her desk. It wasn't magic- a bitch could just move when a bitch had to move. She was hitting the answer button with the spike heel of one boot as she was still tugging her headset on.<br/><br/><em>"ThankyouforcallingEvilCorpCustomerSavagefactionhowmayIHellyou?"</em><br/><br/>She paused, listened...frowned.<em> "No, sir, that is certainly correct. The Party Pooper Power Popper pack isn't supposed to detonate until the ribbon is completely unwound..."</em>With a noticeable tremor, her free hand crept towards the skull-and-crossbones of the Panic Button, the big glowing black one that alerted both Legal and Tactical divisions that there was an honest to Grond, legit, undeflectable customer complaint incoming.<em>"On the table. No one in the room?  No pets? Passing trucks or aircraft? No?  Is your home in a designated flood or subsidence zone? Was there any sort of weather event?"</em>She was running out of ideas.  Swallowing hard, she dragged the ear protectors over her head-<br/><br/><em>"Just a moment please, sir, while I elevate your call-"</em><br/><br/>-and hit the button, immediately freeing three adolescent<em>ban sidhe </em>from their ball gags.<br/><br/>Their screams from inside the resounding cavity of the ventilation system were a lot louder than dear Sasha ever got.