Akira was carrying a box of supplies toward the gym when he passed the Faculty Lounge. The door was slightly ajar, and he heard something that made him pause.
A sharp, ragged intake of breath, almost like a soft moan.
Feeling both curious and a little paranoid, Akira slowed down. He peeked through the small opening in the door, ready to leave quickly if it was just two teachers having an inappropriate moment.
What he saw was worse.
Ms. Satomi, the usually strict Literature teacher and also their form teacher, who'd complimented Aoi's painting earlier, was alone in the room. She was leaning back against her desk, head thrown back, eyes closed.
Her face was flushed a deep, unnatural scarlet, and her hands were gripping the edge of the desk so hard the wood was creaking.
"So... thick..." she whispered to herself in a husky voice, completely different from her normal crisp tones.
