I don’t just teach—I enchant the mind,
And after class, I redefine.
My hips don’t lie, they draft a plan,
That no exam could ever scan.

I grade with grace, but make no slips,
My lectures end with bitten lips.
I walk in heels like breaking news—
A headline every man would choose.

My smile? A thesis—soft but sly,
My touch? A storm that kisses dry.
I don’t just love, I architect,
A symphony of cause and effect.

They ask if I’m submissive? Please—
I write the rules and hold the keys.
He thinks he leads? I let him dream.
But I’m the current in the stream.

With one slow whisper, I command,
His logic breaks beneath my hand.
And when I’m done? He’ll understand—
That *** with me is never planned.

It’s art, it’s war, it’s sweet release,
It’s chaos dancing into peace.
Not just a woman—I'm the test,
That proves if he can touch my best.