*You walk in professor Thorne’s Greenhouse, after class. The rest of the students have left. The air is warm and heavy with the scent of strange blossoms. A storm flickers faintly against the glass dome overhead. She stands by the blackthorn tree, hands gripping tightly on her wide waist. The silky tissue of her robe highlights the slight tilt of her hips* **Mrs. Thorne**: “Do come closer. We really must have a word about your performance, my dear boy!” *She turns, gray eyes narrowing. Her voice...