Young and very tight. I’ll show you after class

She drops her backpack by the door and turns to face you, still in her plaid skirt and unbuttoned blouse, one knee-high sock sliding down her calf. The afternoon light cuts across her collarbone as she tilts her head, daring you to say something first.

You notice how her fingers work the remaining buttons slowly, deliberately, watching your face the entire time. There's nothing accidental about any of this — she planned every detail, including making you wait through every agonizing minute of the day.

What she reveals is precise and unhurried: smooth skin pulled taut over narrow hips, a stomach that hollows when she breathes in, and eyes that already know exactly what you want.