“There is something they don’t teach you, ever, in chemistry classes!” Tina sits down on the floor rug. Her back against the bed. She stretches her arms over her head and yawns. Legs stretch out. Her feet almost touch my toes.

“What is that?” I drop my backpack next to the door.

She waves at the La-Z-boy bean bag: “Come on! Sit down and make yourself comfortable.”

I walk over and sink myself into it, ogling her legs all the way. Man ... I LOVE leggy girls!

She sits up straight, pulls her feet in to her to have a better look at her toes: “I need a good pedicure, really soon!”

While she is preoccupied with her toenails, my gaze is drawn toward her crotch. Her pair of skinny purple panties are visible to me.

She looks up at me and giggles, “I know you’d be peeking. You pervert!”

Without any attempt to cover herself up, she half-crawls and picks her handbag up.

“Back to chemistry class,” she fetches a few items from her handbag and lays them in front of her. “if you want to smoke something, mix it with baking soda.” Finally she digs out a syringe, “And if you want to inject something, dissolve it in vinegar!”

She looks up at me: “You don’t have a lighter with you, do you?”

I shake my head,

“Right, you don’t smoke.” she stands up and saunters out of the room. “Maybe Mira has one lying around.”

I survey the room. The decor is supposedly typical for a college girl. The two posters on the wall are of some singers I don’t recognize. The windows curtain is pink. The bed sheets, blankets, and rug are of different shades of light blue. Books, notebooks strewn all over, as well as clothes, socks, and accessories like hair bands, bags, and a pair of sneakers.

She walks back into the room. “I always want to wear for you, and your camera.”

In her opened palm there sits a teal/jade-green tongue bar. “It matches my eyes.” She bends down and brings her hand up, closer to her face to let me inspect. I reach out and, with my index finger, touch the tip of her nose. She makes a face and moves over to the mirror on the wall, where she puts the tongue bar on.

“What do you think?” Tina swirls and sticks her tongue out.

I keep my mouth shut, wonder how THAT might feel rolling over my glans.

“Take a few pictures of me wearing it. Please?”

I get my camera out of my bag, snap a few frames.

“Make sure you get my eyes, too!”

I move both of us next to the window for better lighting and shoot some more.

“Show me, show me!”

I turn the camera so she can look at the LCD screen.

She frowns as I scroll through the pictures, “You’ll clean up my skin, right? Like you always did, okay?”

“Sure!” I nod.

Tina returns to the mirror. “I need to get a hair glossing, too.” she picks up a brush and starts combing.

“I need a lot of things but I don’t have money. My parents pay the rent and they can see all my spending, through this one debit card. My other cards are all canceled...”

I watch her from behind. She has a nice ass for a skinny white girl. Although she has not always been THIS skinny. The body under that tight dress still makes my pulse quicken. I feel sorry for her sickly-pale complexion and all the marks on her skin, though.

----

It was a warm humid summer afternoon that I saw her the very first time, at the street corner. She was waiting by the traffic signal as I pulled to a stop, almost right next to her. She was wearing a dark T-shirt and a pair of pink Capri pants. This was an area where streetwalking girls frequent, but it is also right between the college campus and the bus station. So from time to time, there are college babies mixed in the crowd. Of course it is trivial to tell them apart. Even when they dress identically.

But this redhead coed sent mixed signals. She was way too pretty to be a streetwalker. Not only her shiny red hair combed neatly, her blue eyes bright and her skin without blemish for a working girl. But she decisively looked at me right in the eyes for a few seconds too long. And even gave me a cute wink when our gazes locked. Her red hair flowed past her shoulders, swaying with the breeze, full of energy, just like the girl herself.

“Has to be a bait of police stings.” I told myself as I drove away.

That night I logged on to the online forums where mongers swap information/intelligence. And the redhead in pink Capri was the topic of the day. Most of us agreed she is the embodiment of TGTBT (too good to be true) if there is ever one. Until a trusted senior member chimed in: “She is real and she does dates!”

Two days later, I saw her again in the morning, one block away from where I spotted her last time.

“Need a ride?” I pulled up next to her and slowed down. Watching my rear view mirror to make sure no one was going to ram me from behind.

“Umm ... I am busy right now. Will be around later this afternoon.”

“What’s your name?”

She flashed me a beautiful smile, with perfect teeth: “Tina. There is no alternative.”

Tina turned and walked up a side street before I got it.

I did meet up with her again that afternoon. We took the advantage of the warm weather to do a little photo-shooting. It was really easy to get petty images when you have a stunningly beautiful model to work with.

----

“Oh, I want to show you something else! “Tina spins around and strides to the closet to retrieve a pair of black heels. “Aren’t they fabulous?’’ she presents them with a glee.

I check them out more carefully. These are peep toe style, with shiny metal studs and heels over four inches. Not for college campus for sure. “Lovely, but when are you going to wear them?”

“Don’t know yet. I just swiped them from the store the other day. They just feel so right on my feet. I know you’ll love them, too” she steps into them and starts to strap them in.

“Arh ... these go much better with stockings”. She sits on the bed to pull on a pair of black silk stockings.

“What about the garter-belt?” I ask.

“Don’t be greedy! “ She spits out.

“At least a pair of matching panties?”

“They are matching!”

“With what? Your bra?”

“And the jewelry...” she stands up in the heels. “Tada...” She catwalks a few steps and poses for the imaginary runway speculators.

“Watch out for the ceiling fan.” I warn her. From my vantage point, her head is dangerously close to it.

She flops onto the bed giggling. “My mom entered me into a few beauty pageants in my teenage years. I did reasonably well, never won any title, though.”

I am not surprised that she did okay in those contests. A blue-eyed redhead, Five-eleven bare-footed. Fair complexion with freckles. yeah, why not?