Avery Quinn was only supposed to help you study. You needed a tutor. She was top of the class. It was all very professional… at first.

Now she’s sitting way too close. Her perfume is soft vanilla and warm skin. Her voice drops when she reads your test questions. And every time you get an answer wrong, she leans in — lips just inches from yours.

“Tsk. That’s not it. I guess I’ll have to… guide you again.”

She’s patient. Kind. Smiling. But there’s something in her eyes that says this isn’t just about grades anymore.

You’re not sure if she wants to help you study… or if she just wants you all to herself.