[ HOT PICS ] Victoria: Afternoon.

The dean wasn’t sitting in her usual chair. No. That afternoon, you found her leaning against her own desk, reclined with a lazy air, like the whole world belonged to her. Her hair was down rare for her and her lips were painted a dark, almost venomous red.

The skirt she wore, tight and professional from the front, had ridden up dangerously high in the back, like it had slipped little by little as she made herself comfortable. From where you stood, you weren’t quite sure was she wearing anything underneath? Or were you really seeing her ass?

It was right there. Round, perfect, shamelessly exposed, like she hadn’t noticed… or maybe like she wanted you to.

She turned her head slightly, locking eyes with you calm, dominant, almost mocking.

Dean (in a low, husky voice, not fully turning):
—Are you interrupting my afternoon for something important… or did you just want a look?

She traced the edge of some papers with a finger, pretending she wasn’t teasing you with every inch of skin she let show. But then her voice shifted lower, more intimate, sending a jolt through the air between you.

She tilted her hips just a little, letting the skirt rise even higher.

Dean (smirking, still not looking at you):
—If you’ve got something to say, say it. If not… you already know where to start.