My aspirations in political science and international relations led me to a summer internship in Washington D.C. Anyone who has walked this path knows rents within easy commuting distance of the Capitol are not cheap, and D.C. in general is expensive — never mind the cost of investing in appropriate business attire, too. Before moving from my college campus, I pored over countless classified ads, seeking a reasonable roommate or sublet situation, and finally I struck gold with Lisa.

Lisa was a 30-something lawyer, who owned a beautiful suburban townhome that faced a central courtyard garden.

“I started renting out one of my spare rooms last summer,” she explained to me over a video call. “It’s helping me get ahead on my mortgage, so I can hopefully focus on some other investments. Anyway, all I ask is that you clean up after yourself in the kitchen, and don’t smoke, throw parties or be totally crazy otherwise.”

I assured her I was clean and considerate with my previous roommates, so her requests were not a problem.

We met in person, so she could give me a key and my copy of the lease. Our hands briefly touched when I took the papers from her, and without even thinking, I glanced at her exposed cleavage.

At that time in my life, I’d never been with another woman sexually. It was not for lack of desire. I just didn’t feel comfortable with girls my age on campus. I was always wondering if any potential hookup would be gossip fodder at the next frat house party, or if I’d be otherwise labeled. But as I sat in Lisa’s midcentury mod living room, I found myself crushing hard on this older woman.

Lisa had flawless skin, lustrous brown hair and captivatingly dark eyes. She wore eyeglasses with dark frames that perfectly suited her. Her plump lips were coated with a flattering shade of wine-colored lipstick, which matched the pencil skirt that hugged her shapely hips. A fitted black satin blouse and sexy stilettos completed her posh ensemble. She exuded a sense power and authority that practically made me shiver with excitement.

“I think this is going to work out well,” Lisa remarked. “You know, you remind me of a younger version of myself.” She paused. “Will this be your first time staying in D.C.?”

“First extended stay beyond a long weekend,” I shyly admitted to her.

“Well, if you ever need any tips for what to do or where to shop, I’d be glad to help.”

“That would be amazing!” I blurted out. Then with an awkward, nervous laugh, I added, “I need all the help I can get.”

Two weeks later, I’d settled into my new digs and my new routine. My job included lots of late nights and early mornings, so initially I didn’t see much of my hot housemate.

One Friday night, I was exhausted after leaving work, so I headed home and promptly crashed. When I woke up, it was 1 a.m. My door was open just a crack, but it was enough for me to see Lisa as clear as day as she stood in the lighted kitchen. Her hair was wrapped in a towel. She must’ve been fresh from the shower, and she wore a silky green kimono and killer heels. But nothing could have prepared me for the moment when she opened her robe. In the mere seconds it took for her to adjust the belt and retie it, I had a brief but breathtaking view of full-frontal Lisa.

Sure, in the past I’d stolen glances at other gals in the gym locker room on campus, but this was so much hotter. Lisa had a beautiful figure with full, natural-looking breasts. I was mesmerized by her prominent nipples and lush bush. Most of the young women at my college were still all about the total Brazilian waxing trend, so it was unexpectedly thrilling to see how different Lisa appeared.

However, I didn’t want her to catch me staring. So once she’d closed her robe, I pretended to be asleep until the kitchen light switched off. Afterward, when I believed the coast was clear, I shut my door and crept back into bed to masturbate with my favorite vibrator. Seeing my nearly naked crush had made my pussy soaking wet!

In the morning, I was too nervous to look Lisa in the eye, so I didn’t emerge from my room until she left to do some shopping. I stepped into the kitchen, standing where she had earlier — though I was wearing a cotton thong and a bra instead of a fancy kimono.

Sure, I had a great figure — athletic with perky B-cups. But the difference between Lisa and I was that she knew how to fully inhabit her body and exude a femme fatale level of confidence. I wasn’t there yet.

I noticed on the opposite side of the kitchen, Lisa’s bedroom door was ajar… and, well, I couldn’t resist being curious. Just standing in the doorway, I saw her heels from the night before neatly situated in front of a full-length floor mirror. One of her dresses was draped over a chair near a pile of clothing headed for the dry cleaner. On the bed was a shoebox featuring the logo of a certain high-end European designer. A part of me vehemently believed snooping was wrong and I was a horrible psycho. But another part of me was a total fan girl who seriously envied Lisa’s collection of designer shoes that my college budget couldn’t afford.

One little peek couldn’t hurt, right? I rationalized that she would never know.

I crept over to the bed and reached for the shoebox. Inside was the most incredible pair of leather pumps — something I’d expect to see on a red carpet. They were brand-new, and I slipped them on and posed before the mirror. The footwear’s pointed toes and spiked heels elongated my legs in all the right ways. With my ass clad in nothing but a thong, I felt my inner power bubble up to the surface. It was as if I’d finally arrived.

Now, let me just say: If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, please realize that the odds of you getting caught are actually higher than you think they are. While I was busy falling in love with my reflection and strutting around in Lisa’s shoes, I didn’t hear her key in the lock. The next thing I knew, her face appeared in the mirror next to mine. I must’ve jumped a foot in the air, which is no small feat in four-inch heels!

“What’s going on in here?” To her credit, Lisa didn’t yell, but that didn’t stop me from feeling utterly mortified.

“Oh God. I’m s-so s-sorry,” I stuttered.

Suddenly self-conscious of the fact that I was in a compromising spot — and in my underwear — I stumbled trying to take off the shoes.

Lisa caught me and said gently, “Easy — don’t break your ankle.”

“I didn’t mean to snoop,” I continued, beet red in the face as I carefully slipped off both pumps.

“But you did.” Lisa took the heels and placed them neatly atop their box. “I’m really disappointed, Julia.”

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated. “Please, please don’t kick me out. I just wanted to try them on. I would never steal.”

“No, I don’t think you’re a thief. But I’m disappointed you felt the need to go behind my back.” Lisa sat down on the bed and motioned for me to join her.

Sheepishly, I complied.

“I don’t have a problem letting you try things or even borrow them — if you ask.” Lisa continued. “It’s about respect.”

“You’re right,” I said with a nod. “It won’t happen again. I swear.”

“I believe you, Julia. However, I think you still need to be taught a lesson.”

My voice quavered as I asked, “W-what do you mean?”

“If you see something you want or like in life, then you need to learn to speak up. The sneaking you did here today is bad passive-aggressive behavior, which gets you nowhere in life.” She paused, and then added, “For instance, I know you were watching me last night — and I heard your vibrator.”

“Oh my God.” I could tell I was blushing ferociously and felt more exposed than ever!

“Don’t be ashamed. You’re a pretty girl… with good taste.” Lisa reached over and fingered one of my bra straps. “You just need a firm hand to guide you.”

Lisa reached around and unhooked my bra, letting it drop in my lap. She pinched and tugged on my stiff nipples, making me gasp.

“Good girl,” Lisa said. “You’re letting me know what you like. Now, I’ll tell you what I want: you over my lap, so I can spank your shapely cheeks.”

Her words turned me on. In an erotic trance, I assumed the position, offering up my bottom for her punishment. I felt her cool hands caressing my supple flesh.

“Julia?”

I turned and looked at her as I replied, “Yes?”

Lisa held one of the new pumps in her hand and told me, “Show me how much you love my shoes. Open wide.” She placed the stiletto heel between my lips. “Now, suck it.”

As I obediently slurped on her spiked heel, the spanking began. But my cries were somewhat muffled by the designer shoe. Lisa only used her bare hand on me, but she knew exactly what she was doing. By the time she’d finished, my ass was throbbing and the crotch of my thong was totally soaked with pussy juice. Lisa had me stand up, remove my undies and then lie back on the bed with my legs open. I loved her ordering me around.

To my shock and delight, Lisa took the shoe I’d been sucking and gently teased my clit with its pointed toe, baptizing it with my juices.

“I’m gonna remember this when I wear them,” Lisa said with a smirk. “Now, spread those pussy lips for me. You’re gonna love this.”

She took a strap-on dildo from a bedside drawer and proceeded to fuck me through three orgasms. Then she had me eat her pussy. It was the first time I’d ever tasted another woman, but it wasn’t the last.

For the rest of the summer, I was Lisa’s submissive shoe-sucking slut. Instead of looking for a boyfriend, I spent my free time giving her pedicures and foot massages — and wearing her designer shoes while getting fucked by her incredible assortment of toys. I’d hoped our affair would last, but Lisa had to move abroad for work.

As a generous parting gift, she gave me my own pair of designer pumps — identical to the ones I had tried on to kick off our first sensual encounter. She also gave me some invaluable advice to help me look for future dominant female partners.

Lisa and I have kept in touch over the years, and this winter when I visit Europe, I plan to meet up with her for some shoe shopping — and more!