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A scrap of paper fell out. It looked like the fortune found in a Chinese cookie. Do not wear underclothing. She squinted at the note, puzzled at the command. But then she shrugged. It made sense to forgo a bra and panties.
Five minutes later, Mia surveyed her costumed appearance in the bathroom mirror. It only showed her top half, but she didn’t need to see the rest. She had a couple dresses like this in her closet at home, and the sweater looked like one she wore frequently because the office tended to be a little cold.
Her hair was already in the requested ponytail. She headed to her desk, which had some papers stacked on it, waiting for her to grade them. Nothing felt different. Even the lack of panties and bra didn’t make her feel naughty or decadent. She picked up the contract to read it one last time.
* * * *
Kaelen followed the long, winding drive to a little cabin that didn’t look at all like what he had specified in his fantasy. An older-model Malibu was parked outside. He started, a little surprised at that level of detail. He hoped the woman inside had those same simmering chocolate eyes and the same rich chestnut hair as Mia. His fingers itched to free those long tresses and comb through them. That kind of detail mattered to him more than her driving the same make and model of car that Mia drove.
He wondered what she would think about the outfit he’d chosen for her to wear, and he wondered what she expected from him, exactly. Oasis had been very open about the fact they were fulfilling one another’s fantasies.
Spanking a woman turned him on like nothing else, except maybe watching her climax. Lingerie and cleavage were nice, but a pink ass made his cock stand up and take notice. He wanted to hear those kittenish moans of pleasure from Mia, but this woman who had agreed to be her stand-in would have to suffice.
If anyone asked him to describe the perfect woman, he would describe Mia. He suspected she hid a sexy body behind those shapeless sack dresses and baggy shirts she always seemed to be wearing. The little blushes that darkened her cheeks whenever he asked for a favor made his jeans become uncomfortably tight.
The first time he’d seen her, she’d stood in when Brindley had to leave campus unexpectedly. She’d talked about the importance of independent variables, and she’d cited successful and flawed studies in her examples. When he’d read about the topic before class, it hadn’t seemed all that interesting. But Mia brought a passion to her lecture that infected every single person in that room.
Her eyes had sparkled, and her hands had moved expressively. She had walked around the room, sitting in the back when she showed charts and diagrams through the data projector.
She’d settled into the empty seat next to him as she talked through the data. Her cinnamon and vanilla scent had tickled his senses, but the excitement she didn’t attempt to hide had captivated him. That day, he had sought her out at Brindley’s office, inventing some long-forgotten excuse just to see her.
That passionate woman had vanished, replaced with someone professional and cordial. He’d tried talking with her about variables, but her reception had been cool at best. Then he'd tried to move the conversation forward, guiding it toward topics that would spark that passion he'd so loved about her. He'd been about to ask after her course of study, but Brindley had poked his head out of his office and told her to get back to work. Her gaze had fallen to the pile of papers on her desk, and she’d told him to see Dr. Brindley if he had any questions about the content of the class.
He had recognized her humiliation. She was the kind of woman who went out of her way to please people. She didn’t handle harshness or being reprimanded very well. He wanted to punch Brindley for making her feel that way.
After that, she had quickly withdrawn from any attempt he made at interaction. Women usually fell over themselves to clamor for his attention. He had never developed the skills to break through this wallflower’s defenses.
He made it up the steps, but he paused with his hand on the door. Going in, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Playacting with a stranger couldn’t sate his longing to feel Mia’s lips moving under his, her soft moans growing louder as he held her down and ripped off her clothes.
With a groan, he adjusted his cock, which had automatically hardened at the thought of seeing Mia. At least this woman had asked him to wear something he found comfortable. Jeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt under his fleece jacket. It was his standard fare, and it did nothing to further the fantasy element or feed his sense of anticipation. It was too familiar to be sexy. Oasis had offered to send him the outfit, but he’d declined, preferring to wear his own clothes.
He exhaled, gathering courage, and pushed the door open.
