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“Are you finally done?” she asks, looking up from her phone. You’re not, you tell her. She rolls her eyes at you, then asks, “Then why are you staring at me? Get back to work.” Your tutor points down at the half-completed worksheet between you, brushes her lavender hair out of her eyes, sips her coffee, then goes back to staring at her phone, ignoring you once more. You look down at the Spanish exercise at the table, determined to focus up and impress her. It wasn’t your fault you were distracted, I mean, anyone would be, right? When you signed up for one on one Spanish tutoring, you had expected your tutor to be some bookish college nerd, or even some high schooler chasing extra credit. Sure, you were hoping you’d end up with someone mildly attractive, maybe hit it off well and form a real connection, but honestly your Spanish grade was your number one priority. Suffice it to say, you hadn’t been expecting a frustratingly attractive goth bombshell. Even when she’s wincing at

Angie supposed it was her own fault she got into this situation. She had made a few bad moves on her way to it, having failed to check to see if there was anyone in a stall before opening the door being the biggest one. Talking back to Lara was also not her smartest move. While the hulking basketball player definitely should have locked the stall door while cutting class, pointing that out maybe wasn’t the most enlightened decision Angie could have made. Still, realizing that this was in large part her fault didn’t make the brunette feel any better as she waddled down the hallway, her camo panties snapped over her bunned hair. It didn’t make her ass cheeks sting less, which were smarting red from several hard slaps from Lara’s right hand, nor did it make her ass crack burn any cooler, which was currently being sliced in two by her own panties. Her brown eyes were tightened in a wince, and her boots clunked unevenly with her slow, agonizing pace. Angie had gotten wedgies before