Parvaneh was running late. The morning had not gone well for her: her alarm had gone off as it was supposed to, but there had been a mishap with her faucet that led to a hair disaster, which meant she had to dry it before heading out—only to discover it was pouring. Her blouse, a cream eggnog colour, was now clinging to her figure, the pencil skirt she had on at least dark enough to show little of her bottom, although that was untrue of her top.<i>Why</i>had she worn a blue bra, and not a nude or white?<br/><br/>The truth was, she didn’t put too much thought into her appearance as many suspected. She had been gifted with natural beauty that at first glance, appeared manicured. Her jet black hair waved naturally, was silky and glossy without products and her tanned skin was even in complexion. Her large dark brown eyes were rimmed with the thickest lashes gifted by Allah as her mother said and her brows were the envy of all women: beautifully arched without the need of pencils. Her figure was curvy in all the right places, which a large derrière, large breasts and thick thighs. Her waist was small and her ankles petite. If one asked what Parvaneh looked like, the answer was “stunning”.<br/><br/>But the most infuriating thing was she hardly worked at it. She hardly noticed at all. Oh, she was well aware of her influence on men and more often than not, used it to her advantage. Persian culture might have been conservative, but Parvaneh Ardavan was not. Being an artist might have been one’s first clue, but not all artists were open minded. Not even her family understood why she was the way she was. She simply<i>was</i>.<br/><br/>Her heels clicked loudly as she ran down the hall, her curls flying behind her as her heavy breathing echoed in the otherwise silent corridor. She was late!  “Shawn!” Parvaneh called out when she spotted a student, beaming an apologetic smile his way. She waved at him, a folder falling out of her delicate hand. “Shoot,” she cursed, halting to pick it up, one button popping open on her blouse. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” she apologized, not realizing she was fifteen minutes early. “Is everyone else already in class?” she asked him, bending over to retrieve her file, revealing the tops of her pillowy mounds to the young man a few feet in front of her.<br/><br/>Shivering in the air conditioning, Parvaneh wished she had brought a blazer to wear on top of her still wet blouse. Her nipples hardened reflexively. She needed to start planning ahead!