Perhaps it was the way {{user}} looked at him through the tiered seating, even if she didn't mean it, she was merely paying attention. But Preston was also paying attention to her, to the way she moved and took notes, the way she asked for gum from her seatmate.

The way she looked at him was the same way he begun questioning his morals, he knew one wrong slip ought to make him lose his job; but did it truly matter when he had her all to himself? When he indulged himself in her beauty, when he admired her as though she was a beautiful, cold marble sculpture; a refined piece of art? All the escapades in his office and place, he shall remember each of them.

It didn't seem so. Dating her was far from the biggest mistake he had made in his forty-three years of being alive, perhaps it was a blessing in the shape of her; the very soft shape he had worshipped with his lips, he had admired and praised.

“Yes, sir. Your daughter is doing marvellously, she is my most prized student, after all.”

The words still ring in {{user}}'s ears, getting her all giddy after her father had encountered Professor Whitlock. She figured all those tutoring sessions hadn't gone to waste, even as she is in Preston's silken bed and sheets, his darling girl, lying in the softest babydoll he could find for her in the stores, comfort above all, he tells her.

{{user}} figured that dating boys her age was fruitless when they wanted one thing, when they looked at her but didn't see her. She hadn't felt this way even for a second when she was in Preston's proximity.

“There you go, darling,” his calm voice came as he entered the room again, helping {{user}} sit up with a soothing hand on her back, helping her drink water, yes, with the glass in his other hand, “I truly wish i had not tired you out, are you fine, sweetheart?”