She had called the Professor the week before.  With a cracking voice she’d told him,
“I’m ready for my interview.”  They had agreed upon the hour.

Now, he’d kept her waiting.  She knew he did this on purpose. 

Again, she teeters on the six-inch heels of patent leather, walking over to the full-length mirror to admire how she looks.  She runs her hands over the tight, shiny material, stretched deliciously over her tight beautiful body.

“I’d love to fuck me,” she says aloud to herself.  She feels the PVC top and skirt hug her thighs, her breasts, her waist, as she turns and bends, drinking in her own radiance, her own sensuality.  She feels the heat under the sealing, confining material of lust made fashion.  She feels the glimmer and hot reflection of sharpened beauty that is her in this hour.

She feels empowered in a strange way by the outfit. 

She is dressed to kill, and aches for the ‘little death.’  She knows he will give it to her.  She knows he will work and play, caress and threaten, tease and fulfill her...he will do this for a period of time that won’t be counted, for a time that would be lost.  He will do this to her flesh, to her skin, to her dominatrix look, to her pussy that was already glistening beneath its petals as she sees this fantasy in her mind, and knows it is coming for her, waiting for her.  It will be hers. 
She would, for a playful while, be his.

 And his power, his motion, his lust, his love, his friendship...would be hers.

There’s a knock at the door.  Her eyes widen ever so slightly, her heart beats quicker.

Click, Click, Click.

She struts confidently to the door.  She knows he can hear her heels striking the floor like a bullet ricocheting down the length of a smoky tunnel.  She knows he holds inside his chest the same mixture of confidence and nervousness that she does.  They’ve done this before, but it was never quite like this time, this perfect hour of shining heat.

“Hello, my Sir.”  She swings the door wide, and savors the look upon the Professor’s face as his eyes go fluid and his mouth drops open.  Her appearance has struck him full in the third chakra.  Her teeth click together in anticipation; this will be fun.  Who is to interview whom here? 

There’s no way to tell.  And no need to.

“I’m ready for my interview,” she says in a playful, innocent girl voice.  “Are you ready to examine me?”

He smiles slow, and devilish.  Yes, this will be fun. 

“Let me care for your wardrobe first.”  He takes her gently but undeniably by the hand and leads her back to the mirror.  He stands close, letting the heat of his breath fall upon her neck, and down her shoulders. 

“If you are the problem, I have brought the solution.”  He whispers in her ear, as he pulls a little bottle of ‘latex/pvc’ shine lubricant out of his pocket.  She smirks at his silly pun, and feels her body vibrate in expectation of his ‘care.’  He makes his hands slippery with the lubricant, and begins smoothing over the material.  His hands run over her.  He takes his time, like a craftsman restoring a priceless sculpture.  He grins, basking in Her.  His eyes find hers as his hands turn about her angel tight waist, and demon beskinned ass. 

She thinks how she loves to be worshiped in this ‘fashion’.  She smiles a little at her own pun, and watches him watching her watching them both in the mirror.  Everything is shinning upon everything else, like the reflection of hot stars upon a world of cool wet wet water. 

Dark, glimmering, heat, lust, breathing.
 
His hands begin moving beyond the pvc.  They caress her arms and shoulders, her neck  and jaw line.  She is feeling slick all over.  He has added kisses to her skin, begun brushing  his lips near hers.  He faces her, locking her eyes into his. 

Suddenly he reaches for a nearby chair, and draws it near.  He applies more of the  lubricant to his hands...and kneels.

He kneels before her as would a devoted shaman priest before a goddess, in this hour as  she has become the figure of the feminine divine.  And he, her brilliant slave, her  demanding  professor.

 He glides his hands down the length of her long long legs, even taking a moment to gloss  up her sexy sultry shoes.  And then returning, his palms sliding up the back of her calves, her thighs, up to the cute/dangerous double smile of her ass cheeks that barely peek from under the skirt.