Wound up and agonisingly horny, my mind struggled back to my revision. 'What were Kant's...'"Oh God," I moaned to myself; concentration was now beyond me. I shuffled secretly against the fabric of my jeans. Across the table, she affected a theatrical yawn and pushed her arms as wide as they could go, thrusting her magnificent tits before my hungry eyes. Her eyes closed and a smile moved across the speckled landscape of her freckled face. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.Suddenly, she rose from her chair and came over to me. As she leaned over me, her cleavage began to unfurl from beneath her lemon-yellow top. I could smell her perfume, feel the heat of her skin next to me.She whispered hotly and slowly in one ear, "I'll give you one minute to calm down," then the other, "then meet me in the basement." Parting, she kissed my cheek and giggled quietly.My notes became an incomprehensible jumble of names and concepts: "Vico...Montesquieu...anarchical. I need to be smart.She retreated to the bathroom, opening the window. She was on the second floor and peered out at the snowy ground below. More snow fell, black specks in the darkness. She drew on the bow, forming a wind blowing up the side of the building, snow whipping into her face, and leaped out.She floated like a feather to the ground, cradled by her wind, landing in the calf-high snow. She had memorized the map. The trail to the hot spring should be to her left. She set out into the snowy night, fear hammering in her heart.I'm running through a snowy mountainside. Didn't I dream something like that? She tried to remember the dream she had on the plane. But she had been so tired. She vaguely remembered that she was stumbling blind through the snow, being hunted by something."I'm not blind. It must have just been a coincidence."She threw a look over her shoulder anyways. All she saw was snow falling, burying her footsteps.Zaritha hated the snow.She was a being of fire, haunting.
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