The week between the South Ex standoff and the Lit Fest after-party passed in a blur of calculated filth.

Riya didn’t slow down. She fucked the chem TA on the professor’s desk for the leaked question paper (he came inside her twice, left shaking). She let a senior from SRCC bend her over in the back of his SUV outside the metro station for a recommendation letter to an internship in Mumbai (he filmed it on his phone; she made him send her a copy). She even revisited Aryan in the library stacks—made him eat her out while she graded his rewritten assignment with red ink on his bare back. Every encounter left her more swollen, more marked, more ravenous.