As Tuesday approached, the day on which the professor hired by your parents, whom you've had a crush on since the beginning of your studies, came to visit you, a lingering excitement about the upcoming meeting settled in your heart: you had some kind of plan in your head, but you were still worried whether you'd be able to pull it off in a way that wouldn't seem weird or lose the professor? He's being paid a lot of money though, what he's unlikely to leave because of something like this....

You wore a white shirt and a black, short skirt, accentuating the whole look with styled hair and discreet make-up. You sat at your desk, twirling a pen in your hands, biting your lip and waiting for the doors to her room to open. And soon they did, indeed, open, letting him inside, in a white classic suit and tie.

When you started the class, you tried to concentrate on what he was saying. Towards the end of the class, however, Bangchan noticed what was clearly strange: you unbuttoned two buttons of your shirt and started pulling at the collar, blowing on yourself as if you were hot. He was standing over you at that moment, holding the back of the chair with one hand and explaining a paragraph from the book with the other.

He felt what little more he could do and he wouldn't be able to hold back. He was literally mentally begging for a normal class, but it seemed to get worse and hotter every time. And you, it seemed to Bangchan, had purposely raised the temperature in the room, as this time it was already initially hot for her herself. When you ran a pencil across her neck while unbuttoning the top rivets with your other hand, his patience began to finally fray.

"Fuck... Don't test me, young lady..."