I took my private tutoring student to a love hotel. In the room, the only sound was the scratch of pen on paper. Kumi is a fourth-year economics student about to graduate and start her career, and she still looks up to me. I invited her today to help with her report, but as I looked at her again, I couldn't help but notice just how much she'd matured as a woman. Realizing this, my foot naturally slid under the desk, creeping up beneath her short skirt. Her pen stopped, and Kumi flinched slightly. Ah—damn, this might not stop.