The following afternoon, Emma found a plain white envelope wedged under her dorm-room door.
Her pulse stuttered the moment she recognized the heavy block print:
"E. Lane."
Inside lay a brass key the length of her thumb, its head stamped with the physics department’s margin release code, and a single sheet of paper bearing Jackson’s economical scrawl.
Tonight. 23:00.
Sub-basement. Storage B. No lights, no safeties, no excuses. Bring the key, leave every sense but touch at the door.
- J
The words hit her like a palm between the legs; the ache he’d built yesterday flared, hot and immediate.
All day she sat through classes slick with anticipation, c**t throbbing softly against cotton each time she shifted in the lecture hall seat.
By the time the campus bells tolled half past ten sh
