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Alone in her room, the young co-ed, dressed in her crisp, plaid skirt and thigh-hugging tights, sets her violin aside. She's been practicing for hours, and the repetitive motion has her feeling restless, her body aching in places she can't ignore. She stands, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor as she moves to the mirror. She admires her reflection, running her hands over her curves, feeling the silky fabric of her tights. She knows what she needs, and she's going to give it to herself, right here, right now, in her private sanctuary.