The air is bitter, and unforgiving as Amanda moves from her automobile to the steps of her apartment building. The weight of her backpack tears at the muscles in her tiny shoulders and marks her in subservience to higher education.
"Fucking bastards," she murmurs as she turns the keys, unlocking apartment 203. The warm air from the apartment is soothing. She drops the bag and stretches her arms, landing, collapsed on the couch. Her eyes begin to close, giving into exhaustion when she notices a small piece of white paper taped to her television's screen. What the hell is that? She stands and walks grudgingly to the television and pulls the paper from the glass.
"Turn on the VCR," is typewritten on the paper.
"This is a little strange," Amanda thinks to herself and looks to her right, psychically consulting Dr. Zeus... "Okay Dr. Z, if you think it's all right..."
Her delicate fingers depress the proper buttons and she returns to the couch to see what happens next. The screen remains black for a moment and Amanda lights a cigarette taken from a black textured case. She strokes the case thinking of the man who tried to hide his unearthly love for her in its black and silver beauty. Her daze is broken by light on the screen. It is her bedroom, dimly lit by a fiery afternoon sun creasing the blinds and sending brilliant orange rays across her bed.
Amanda sees herself lain across the soft black comforter bound at the wrists with a thick burgundy swatch of velvet. Her eyes are hidden behind a strip of like material lovingly pulled and tied behind her head. Amanda's eyes travel down past her raised arms to her firm white breasts standing perfect and erect against the black backdrop of the comforter. Her hips moving back and forth under black garters tightly fashioned to black, silk, thigh-high stockings that trail down her firm, muscular thighs ending in tall black high-heeled shoes.
There was no doubt in any human beings mind that Amanda existed beyond her fellow female as an unearthly goddess, writhing there on her bed serpentine movements that could pull the simplest chaste man down into the depths of lust...and she was no different. Her hand slid instinctively across her knees as she watched herself on the television screen, and perused her body, taking special notice of every place her lover kneaded her porcelain flesh. Remembering his curly chestnut locks gathered chaotically atop his head and the way they swayed as he buried his tongue deep inside her cunt.
With this her hand slid farther up her thigh and under the long brown dress clinging sinfully to her thighs. Even before her hands moved her tiny leopard panties to the side and began massaging her wet, seeringly hot labia. The moisture from her cunt immediately soaked her fingers, binding them in the stick sweet honey collecting on her thighs and panties. She moaned, deeply, audibly as she continued to watch the screen. The screen went black for a moment and a rush of adrenaline ran through Amanda...