The Arts Pavilion

You decide to save the part of the campus you're most interested in, the Ruth Hornsby Sports Complex for last. You're sure that if you go there first you'll spend most of the day there and see very little else. With that in mind you head out the door of your cottage and turn your steps towards the Roscoe-Williams Arts Pavilion.

Its surprisingly modern, compared to the grey stone of the main building. As you walk towards it you see an amphitheatre with seating built into the surrounding slopes. It is reminiscent of the ruins of ancient theatres you've seem but overhead are towers and crossbeams loaded with sophisticated lighting and special-effects gadgetry. You are reminded once again of the money and influence this school has.

Inside the Pavilion you stumble into the music wing first. There are rooms for band, chorus and orchestra as well as several smaller soundproof practice rooms. One of them has a red light glowing over the door, and when you attempt to open it you find it locked. Curious, you notice a door standing half open further up the hall and the sound of a pounding guitar.

Exploring, you find what is evidently the control room for a recording studio. A vast board of switches, sliders and dials dominates the room, facing a large window opening to another room that is obviously a recording studio. In that room, and clearly the source of the music which is coming through speakers mounted on the wall, is a young woman playing what you suddenly recognise as "I Fought the Law."

You're not much of a musician, but you can recognise her talent as she blazes through the song, her body twisting as she urges every note out of the guitar.

And it's quite a body, you realise. She's dressed in skinny black jeans and low heeled boots, wearing an open vest that looks like it has been cut down from a denim jacket. Showing underneath the vest is a black bandeau bra which restrains but certainly doesn't hide what look to be a decent, if not huge set of tits. Her hair is black, about shoulder length and flailing as she bobs wildly as she plays.

But what really surprises you are her tattoos. Both arms are full sleeves, and there are more tattoos on her belly and below her breasts. Not at all what you'd expect from a student at this institution. With that thought you pull out the chair in front of the sound board and sit down to watch her play.

Entranced by her music and her looks you sit through the entire performance, watching her until she ends the song in a crash of defiant chords, her body bowing over her instrument for a moment then standing up.

As she does she sees you through the glass of the control room window and her brow furrows in annoyance.

"Who the hell are you?" she asks, her voice coming through the wall speakers.