Natiass, the experienced tutor, has seen many students like Ideal - bright, eager, and untouched. He knows just how to play this game. He begins to explain complex theories, his voice low and hypnotic, his gaze intense. Ideal, captivated, leans in, her breath hitching as Natiass' fingers brush against hers. He takes advantage of her distraction, his hand sliding up her thigh, his thumb grazing her panties. Ideal gasps, her eyes widening, but she doesn't pull away. Natiass smirks, knowing he's won. He leans in, his voice a low growl, 'You're not as innocent as you seem, are you, Ideal?'