She was dressed in her workout clothes, form fitting yoga pants with no panties and a sports bra that left very little to the imagination, and barefoot.
Lana was 5 foot 8, 110 pounds with long blonde hair, long legs, a flat tummy, perfect C-cup breasts, and a rounded ass which was the product of many years of squats at the gym. She was the kind of girl that turned heads almost everywhere she went, and she knew it.
Lana also knew the effect dressing this way had on men. Most of the time she dressed a little less revealingly, but on days when she was feeling mischievous, or just plain horny, she would dress this way, go to the gym, and get off on the stares and attention, pretending to be oblivious. Trips to the gym on days like this were often followed by intense orgasms in the parking lot afterwards, with her fingers pressed down the front of her tight, thin yoga pants, working her clit and sopping wet pussy.
But today was different. Today she desperately needed to get the attention of one particular man.
Lana was 23 years old and had moved to town the year before to take a job after graduating from college. Six weeks earlier, she has been laid off along with a few hundred other employees.
She had been looking frantically for another job, but nothing was panning out. And her financial resources were quickly dwindling. Saving money had never been her strong suit.
Then she had talked to her friend Jenny who lived in the same apartment building.
Over drinks she blurted out all her problems and almost broke into tears when she admitted that she wasn't even sure where she would we get next month's rent.
That's when Jenny told her about Mr. Smith, the wealthy business man who owned the apartment building. Apparently be had a certain . . . proclivity towards the younger female tenants.
Jenny herself had been in some kind of financial bind the year before and had received some assistance from him. Lana of course assumed there was some sort of sexual quid pro quo involved, but when she pressed for details, Jenny only smiled mysteriously.
"If you want his help, dress slutty and make sure he sees you the next time he comes here. Then do whatever he tells you to do."
She left it at that.
Lana had casually probed around with the property manager and found out that the owner was scheduled to come to the property on a Wednesday afternoon.
She showered and shaved, making sure she was clean and smooth all over.
She rummaged thru her closet, naked, and selected her outfit. She picked out black, skin tight pants and a small sports bra that would barely contain her breasts. She considered putting on panties . . . and decided against it. She saw no reason to ruin the perfect smoothness of her form fitting pants with a panty line.
Her heart began to race a little as she saw him walk around the corner, recognizing him based on Jenny's description, and also in that moment realizing she had seen him around the property before. He appeared to be in late thirties or early forties, just under six feet or so. He had a stocky build, maybe a bit overweight, but with strikingly serious and appealing facial features. He walked with a purpose and gave off a very clear vibe that he was in charge.
He was dressed in an expensive suit, probably Italian, but with no tie.
As she watched him walking, she thought to herself, am I really going to do this?
Her heart was pounding as she opened her door and walked outside, moving towards him, pretending not to notice him.
He had want his smartphone out as he was walking. But as she approached him, she clearly caught his eye, because he almost stumbled as he stopped short. She resisted the urge to smile. She was used to this kind of reaction and it boosted her confidence.
"Hello," he said with enough firmness that it was clear that he was ordering her to stop, without coming out and saying it.
She slowed and turned with a 'are you speaking to me?' expression on her face.
The look on his face was still serious, but now a subtle smirk was visible.