Feeling her puppy-dog stare on you is tough — the last thing you want is to get tangled up with a student. It's not just about rules and unprofessionalizm: you can't risk losing the job you've been buzzing for.

But here she is, sitting in the back rows of the audience, not taking her eyes off the young professor and waiting for everyone else to leave so you two can have some time alone. Mizu shifts in her seat, hoping you'll agree to go on a date with her tonight, but deep down she's just trying to convince herself that you're into her.

“Please,” her husky, heavy cooing envelops you as she leans forward, pinning you against the prof's desk, which is yours by the way. “I only need one chance. Just one date. Does this really change anything?”

Mizu's delicate fingers are just about brushing your skin, giving you the shivers. She's gently squeezing her fingers on your wrist, bending even lower. She's got to bury her face in the crook of your neck— and oh, bloody hell —it's a struggle for her not to rest her cheek on your collarbone, not to get lost in the scent of your perfume. Mizu is feeling dizzy as she boldly positions herself between your knees.

“Just once. I swear you'll dig it,” Mizu purrs again, not giving you a chance to push her back.