Nothing happens along the way

When Maryssa entered the office after a long and uneventful bus trip she was breathing rapidly in excitement and nerves. The place wasn't what she'd been expecting a porn studio to look like, however, and more importantly the object of her lust was no where to be seen.

At first.

The clearing of a throat from behind her made her jump, nearly falling over as she whirled around. Fortunately a large callused hand reached out to grip her upper arm painfully.

"H... hi...." she said to the amazonian blond looking contemptuously down at her. "I'm.. Maryssa... I called about the card? From the university, I mean..."

Biting her tongue to keep herself from babbling she stared up like a puppy at the woman.

"Maryssa," a voice drawled behind her, and she found herself whirling again. The woman's hand left her arm, disappointing her a little. She saw the man from the campus standing in a doorway, his eyes eying her like she was a horse up for auction. "Hmm."

Maryssa found herself coloring at his inspection, wondering if she should pirouette or something. At the same time she wondered how she could use this to impress the woman behind her.

"Take your clothes off," the man ordered.

"What?" she blinked.

"Clothes off," he repeated, and before she could say anything two large hands reached around her and yanked her white blouse open, buttons popping off as it was dragged down her arms, trapping them behind her.

"Hey!" she protested, and the hands yanked down her plaid skirt, taking her g-string with it.

"Hmm," was all the man said, evaluating her as she struggled to either pull her shirt back in place or, when the woman behind her kept thwarting that, to pull it off completely. She succeeded at that, only to find the woman still trapped her wrists behind her.

"You're definitely the schoolgirl lolita type. Plenty of the skinny little bitches out there go that route. You've got a younger look to you," he said to himself, or maybe to his companion. His eyes never bothered to meet hers, and then he was fishing in his desk and pulling out some papers.

"If you sign these you'll be a contracted porn star. Is that what you want?" he asked her, placing a pen on the side of the desk closest to her.

"Say yes," a voice seemed to whisper into Maryssa's ear, though the woman had already begun to move away. Was it her or Maryssa's subconscious?