Go visit the nurse.

You briefly pause for thought, then shrug. It's not unheard of for students to make out in the meeting rooms; for some time it was known by all that several members of various school committees had been privately booking facilities for undisturbed "sessions". No teacher had evidently thought to question the captains and council members held in such high regard, and it wasn't a concern of yours anyway. Might as well turn your attention to prospects you know are there, you think to yourself as you descend the staircase.

You rap your knuckle on the door to Ms. Rhonda Beck's office, indicating your presence. All of a sudden a dull bump is heard from inside, followed by a yelp of pain that is promptly bitten back. You strain your hearing, barely able to make out some muffled swearing from behind the panel. Eventually after what feels like a minute or so, you hear Ms. Beck's voice call out, "Come in!"

Pushing the door open, you spot Ms. Beck at her desk, having leaned to the side of her swiveling seat to cast you an impatient glare. You've never known Ms. Beck to be careful with how she looks, but for some reason, the way her dirty blond hair frames her face today seems particularly disheveled. The faintest of blushes lingers on her face - out of annoyance or embarrassment, you're not too sure, but you briefly wonder if you could sneak a peek down the sleeveless aquamarine blouse under her nurse's coat.

"So what's wrong with you then?" she snaps. "You gonna speak up, or you gonna waste my time?"

"I'm feeling a little fatigued," you say, trying your best to sound weak as you lift a hand up to your forehead. "Can I rest for a while?" Ms. Beck rolls her eyes; poor as your acting might have been, she buys the threadbare excuse.

"Kids these days," she mutters. "Why you have to waste a perfectly good day like this lazing away, I'll never understand. You can rest in one of the beds, but if anyone from the gymnastics team needs medical attention, I'm booting you out!"

Without further ado you pop into one of the allotments as Ms. Beck gets up and draws the curtain behind you, giving a grunt of frustration as she leaves you be. You gaze up at the ceiling above you, thoughts of Ms. Beck's pleasantly plump figure and thighs filling your mind. So you're deep in the lair of your prey, but now what?