WooouTK
TMF Master
- Joined
- Oct 13, 2021
- Messages
- 609
- Points
- 63
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“Alright, alright… hypothesis two,” she finally said, looking at him with confidence… or at least trying to.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gently rested the tip of his finger against the sole of her foot. It twitched immediately as he slowly traced along the arch.
“Hm…” he murmured.
She frowned.
“What’s ‘hm’ supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he replied innocently. “Just thinking.”
His finger kept moving slowly.
She let out a small giggle and curled her toes.
“Could you stay still? It’s still my turn to answer.”
He smiled.
“I’m just evaluating your response. You said two… but you didn’t sound very convinced. Are you sure you want hypothesis two to be your final answer?”
Suddenly he switched from sliding his fingertip along her arch to drawing small circles with his nail right in the center.
“Ah—!” A full laugh burst out of her. “Stop! I’m trying to concentrate!”
“Then concentrate,” he said, clearly amused. “Two?”
She tried to keep her composure and focus—an almost impossible task at that point, as laughter kept spilling out of her.
“Yes… because… because in the second model the dependent variable—”
He stopped using his nail and went back to gently tracing the sole with his fingertip, giving her a moment to catch her breath.
“Or…” he interrupted casually, “was it three?”
She looked at him.
“Three?”
“Could be.” He shrugged. “Think about it.”
She watched him suspiciously.
“You’re trying to mess with me.”
“Me? Never.”
His finger slowly drew another line across her foot.
She giggled again and tried to pull her foot away inside the restraint. The straps didn’t move even a millimeter.
“Stop doing that while I’m talking!”
“If you’re sure about your answer, it shouldn’t affect you,” he said calmly.
She huffed.
“Two… it was two…” she muttered, trying to remember. “Although… wait…”
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Yes?”
She hesitated.
“Because… they also talked about correlation in number three… didn’t they?”
He shrugged again, completely neutral.
“Maybe.”
He slowly dragged his nail down along her sole.
She burst into a short laugh.
“Ah! Okay! Fine! Three!” she blurted out quickly. “It was three.”
His finger stopped instantly.
There was a second of silence.
Then he smiled.
“Final answer?”
“Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Three. Final answer.”
He pointed at the notebook.
“Incorrect.”
She stared at him for a second… then narrowed her eyes.
“…You’re such a cheating jerk.”
He laughed.
“No, no. You said the correct one at the beginning.”
“Because it was the correct one!” she protested. “Then you started with the finger and your little ‘are you sure?’ routine!”
“That’s called academic pressure,” he replied calmly.
She snorted, though she was smiling.
“That’s called being an asshole.”
“And it worked perfectly,” he said, glancing at his watch with exaggerated satisfaction.
“Well… five minutes, right?”
“Five minutes,” he confirmed with a grin.
He leaned back slightly, looking down at her feet as if considering something.
“So,” he added casually, “do you want me to switch feet… or keep working on this one?”
For a moment she just stared at him.
Then she rolled her eyes and let out a half-exasperated laugh, already knowing exactly what was coming.
“Oh my god… you’re enjoying this way too much.”
I hope you enjoyed the little story, but just to avoid the slightest doubt, I thought it appropriate to remind you that all my characters—including these—are always adults. In this case, the context is that of a pair of university students, where the guy gives the girl private tutoring… with his own rather peculiar teaching method.
“Alright, alright… hypothesis two,” she finally said, looking at him with confidence… or at least trying to.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gently rested the tip of his finger against the sole of her foot. It twitched immediately as he slowly traced along the arch.
“Hm…” he murmured.
She frowned.
“What’s ‘hm’ supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he replied innocently. “Just thinking.”
His finger kept moving slowly.
She let out a small giggle and curled her toes.
“Could you stay still? It’s still my turn to answer.”
He smiled.
“I’m just evaluating your response. You said two… but you didn’t sound very convinced. Are you sure you want hypothesis two to be your final answer?”
Suddenly he switched from sliding his fingertip along her arch to drawing small circles with his nail right in the center.
“Ah—!” A full laugh burst out of her. “Stop! I’m trying to concentrate!”
“Then concentrate,” he said, clearly amused. “Two?”
She tried to keep her composure and focus—an almost impossible task at that point, as laughter kept spilling out of her.
“Yes… because… because in the second model the dependent variable—”
He stopped using his nail and went back to gently tracing the sole with his fingertip, giving her a moment to catch her breath.
“Or…” he interrupted casually, “was it three?”
She looked at him.
“Three?”
“Could be.” He shrugged. “Think about it.”
She watched him suspiciously.
“You’re trying to mess with me.”
“Me? Never.”
His finger slowly drew another line across her foot.
She giggled again and tried to pull her foot away inside the restraint. The straps didn’t move even a millimeter.
“Stop doing that while I’m talking!”
“If you’re sure about your answer, it shouldn’t affect you,” he said calmly.
She huffed.
“Two… it was two…” she muttered, trying to remember. “Although… wait…”
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Yes?”
She hesitated.
“Because… they also talked about correlation in number three… didn’t they?”
He shrugged again, completely neutral.
“Maybe.”
He slowly dragged his nail down along her sole.
She burst into a short laugh.
“Ah! Okay! Fine! Three!” she blurted out quickly. “It was three.”
His finger stopped instantly.
There was a second of silence.
Then he smiled.
“Final answer?”
“Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Three. Final answer.”
He pointed at the notebook.
“Incorrect.”
She stared at him for a second… then narrowed her eyes.
“…You’re such a cheating jerk.”
He laughed.
“No, no. You said the correct one at the beginning.”
“Because it was the correct one!” she protested. “Then you started with the finger and your little ‘are you sure?’ routine!”
“That’s called academic pressure,” he replied calmly.
She snorted, though she was smiling.
“That’s called being an asshole.”
“And it worked perfectly,” he said, glancing at his watch with exaggerated satisfaction.
“Well… five minutes, right?”
“Five minutes,” he confirmed with a grin.
He leaned back slightly, looking down at her feet as if considering something.
“So,” he added casually, “do you want me to switch feet… or keep working on this one?”
For a moment she just stared at him.
Then she rolled her eyes and let out a half-exasperated laugh, already knowing exactly what was coming.
“Oh my god… you’re enjoying this way too much.”
I hope you enjoyed the little story, but just to avoid the slightest doubt, I thought it appropriate to remind you that all my characters—including these—are always adults. In this case, the context is that of a pair of university students, where the guy gives the girl private tutoring… with his own rather peculiar teaching method.
