Kristin and Jenny arrived at the Dean's front door precisely on the dot of 9:00. It was a magnificent home, even older than ABD House, with impeccably manicured gardens maintained by the university.
The night had turned cold and they were both chilly despite being bundled up. Kristin rang the doorbell and they stood rubbing their hands together for a few seconds until a buzzer sounded to admit them. They opened the door and stepped inside, grateful for the wave of warmth that immediately hit them.
There was no one in sight, so for a minute they just stood there in the foyer wondering how to proceed. It was so warm that they were soon forced to doff their coats, which they hung on a rack in the corner. Looking around, Kristin saw a small camera way up in one corner; they were being watched, apparently. A few seconds later the sound of a voice emerged from an intercom speaker on the far wall.
"Phones in the basket, please." There was a small basket next to the coat rack, into which Kristin and Jenny obligingly placed their phones. "Thank you," responded the voice, which then turned commanding. "Clothes off now."
Kristin looked over at Jenny and shrugged. This was moving faster than she'd expected, but what were they going to do? They stripped down to their underwear, laying their clothes out on a chair nearby, and stood there hesitantly.
"Everything," ordered the voice. They piled their bras and panties on top of their clothes and stood there naked, conscious of the camera watching them. "Walk straight forward," they were instructed, "through the drawing room, through the double doors."
Jenny followed Kristin out of the foyer and into the drawing room, which looked like something from a BBC drama, with elegant couches, beautiful paintings, and an enormous globe. At the opposite side of the room were the double doors in question; the girls held hands as they stepped through.
On the other side was a huge, dimly lit living room, with most of the light coming from a crackling fire in the fireplace. It was decorated just as elegantly as the drawing room, though more sparsely. At first there didn't seem to be anyone here, either; then suddenly a figure emerged from the darkness and came striding toward them.
Dean Wilkins was dressed for the occasion in a black leather bustier, black leather skirt, and tall stiletto heels. She towered over even Kristin, who was unaccustomed to feeling so small. With her dark skin and dark hair she looked like a creature made of night. Her eyes were enormous and full of energy, picking up occasional flickering highlights from the fire.
"Welcome," she said, "I'm Dean Wilkins." In person her voice was melodic, as well as authoritative and resonant. "But you can call me Ma'am," she added, holding out a large and strong-looking but elegantly formed hand.
Bowing, Kristin took the proferred hand and kissed it. "I'm Kristin," she said. "Ma'am." She sensed immediately that they were in the presence of a powerful personality. The Dean was going to get whatever she wanted from them; there was no point resisting or being difficult.