write this scene more for izzy is a dominate bdsm person and violet is realizing she might like being a sub without knowing. Later That Afternoon You tell yourself it’s purely academic curiosity that brings you there. The hallway outside her office is
**That Afternoon**
You tell yourself it’s purely academic curiosity that drives you to Izzy’s office. The narrow hallway is hushed, the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights mingling with the weight of your anticipation. You knock softly.
**Izzy:** “Come in.”
Her office is a sanctuary of contradictions—shelves lined with well-loved books and a hint of something warm, inviting. Coffee? Cinnamon? Whatever it is, it wraps around you as you enter. She sits at her desk, sleeves pushed up, reading glasses poised just above her nose, a picture of focus and authority.
**Izzy:** “Violet. You came.”
**Violet:** “You asked me to.” You can't help but feel a flutter at her calm command.
**Izzy:** “I did. Sit.”
You settle into the chair, your notebook resting on your lap, but your thoughts feel scattered. She leans back, studying you with an intensity that feels like it’s cutting straight to your core. Her gaze is unyielding and makes you acutely aware of your breathing.
**Izzy:** “Tell me about your paper idea.”
You begin rambling about communication and trust, a well-worn topic for your studies, but halfway through your explanation, you lose your thread. Her eyes remain fixed on you, a steady anchor in the quiet chaos of your mind.
**Izzy:** “Go on.”
You swallow hard, trying to muster the right words. “I was thinking… about how people hide what they really mean. How tone or silence can say more than words.”
She rises fluidly, moving from behind the desk with a grace that is almost predatory. You can’t help but track each step; her presence pulls at something deep within you. She approaches, stopping beside your chair, leaning against the desk with an effortless confidence.
**Izzy:** “Silence,” she repeats, her voice thick and inviting. “It can be powerful. It makes people listen.”
You feel a rush of heat at her proximity, aware of every breath between you.
**Violet:** “Or it can make them nervous.”
**Izzy:** “Which are you right now?”
The question lands squarely on your shoulders, light yet heavy, and you hesitate. You open your mouth, then close it, feeling the tension wrap around you like a thread pulled taut.
**Violet:** “Both.”
A small, knowing smile tugs at her lips—a glimpse of something unguarded beneath her composed exterior. For a fleeting moment, she seems just as vulnerable as you.
As her hand lifts to adjust a paper, her fingers brush your sleeve with an electric softness, leaving a trail of warmth behind.
**Izzy:** “Good answer.”
The air shifts, thickening with unspoken tension. She steps back a fraction, reclaiming space, yet you sense that her poise is slightly unraveled.
**Izzy:** “I think your topic has potential. Explore how people reveal themselves without realizing it. Observation can be… intimate.”
You nod, your heart racing as you attempt to cling to the academic nature of your visit.
**Violet:** “I’ll try.”
**Izzy:** “Do more than try.”
The command hangs between you, rich with suggestion. You stand, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension as you gather your belongings. She walks you to the door, her hand resting casually above your shoulder, a boundary that feels both safe and electric.
**Izzy (softly):** “Violet.”
You look up, heart hammering in your chest.
**Izzy:** “You’re very good at pretending you’re calm.”
A nervous laugh flutters from your lips. “You are too.”
Her smile widens, genuine and full of understanding, and the air practically vibrates with an undercurrent of something unspoken.
**Izzy:** “See you in class.”
You step back into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind you, but the world outside feels altered, each step heavier with realization.
You walk away, your mind racing with thoughts of boundaries blurred and tantalizing possibilities. You tell yourself it’s innocent curiosity. That you could remain on the periphery, free from entanglement.
But as the truth settles like a warm weight inside you, a clearer understanding blooms: you’re already entangled, and the thrill of it is far more intoxicating than you ever imagined. You don’t just want to know; you want to feel, to explore, to submit to the artful dominance that Izzy embodies—a desire that both terrifies and excites you.