First Impressions

Mia Malkova paces outside the building, still talking to her friend, when her phone beeps with another call. It's the company. A low voice gives instructions. Get naked under the clothes. Present herself. She swallows hard, hangs up, and her nerves crank tighter than piano wire. In the waiting room she mutters under her breath. "Dazzle them. Make it yours." The door opens. April waits, polite, but Mia goes straight for her mouth. Tongue in, urgent, wet. April freezes half a second, then kisses back, heat blooming fast. Mia pushes her onto the leather couch. Buttons pop. The shirt rips. April's bra snaps loose. Mia sucks her nipples hard until they stand wet and stiff. She stands, turns, peels off the skirt—nothing but a tiny white thong cutting between perfect cheeks. April's breath hitches. Hands grip Mia's hips. Tongue finds her cunt, laps deeper, then slides up to her ass. Mia shudders and swears, thighs shaking. Mia drops to her knees, yanks April's legs apart, buries her face between them. She sucks the clit, fingers pumping, dragging one long moan after another out of April until April's coming loud, clenching, drenching Mia's tongue. Mia sits back on her heels, lips slick, grinning. The job's hers—until April wipes her mouth and says the real interviewers are in the next room. Mia stares, chest still heaving, already calculating what the next performance will cost.