Pylaemenes felt himself sinking into oblivion; at least, this is what it seemed to him to be the case. His skin was as cold and pale as ice; a frigid, dewey sweat broke out upon his forehead, moistening his hair in a most unpleasant way. His whole body seemed to have gone cold, though Nadira could not tell, feeling only the warmth of his gentle frame. Perhaps it was the sudden warmth of the bathouse that was prostrating him, or perhaps it was the reaction of his body and of his emotions towards Nadira's kiss; he knew not what to expect. He merely slid back uselessly from the cushion, coming dangerously close to flattening himself out onto the cold, hard floor.

Nadira's lips pressed against his and continued to maneuver about them for what seemed like a long time indeed. It was all too obvious that she was seducing him, and doing a very good job of it as well. It was also equally obvious that she was attempting to pin down his body onto the floor where she could get a good hold of him. His head began to swim, and his panic began to decrease into a passive acceptance of the situation.

"Nadira," he began, "Nadira..." His voice was hoarse and he felt his resistance falling away - a fact which did not enthuse him. "Please..." His voice trickled off once more as she looked down at him and placed her hand against his warm cheek. "Please... Oh...look... Please... I don't know..." His pleas, disjointed as they were, were quickly drowned out in his throat as her lips closed over his mouth again.

His body began to shake violently. He shook out of fear, for one thing. Fear of embarrassing or disgracing himself. Fear of discovery in this public place in such a position with this woman... Fear of losing control of everything... He felt it happening. He felt his body quiver with expectation of whatever seemed to be coming. He knew what was done in such circumstances, of course, but he had never experienced it himself. However, his body seemed to be dropping him rather disconcerting hints that did more to embarrass him than assist him. His body... He couldn't control it. This woman had awoken his senses, and he could not quell them. That horrified him. What horrified him even more was the fact that he was beginning to enjoy his ignominious situation.

Suddenly, he fell back, laying spread-eagled on the floor. Nadira had maneuvered herself strategically over him to pin him down, and now she fell close upon him. There followed several minutes of squirming about as though trying to break away before he finally passively accepted his situation and let her take control. This, of course, she did.

Finally, he responded affirmitively to her out of his own free will. His arms wrapped around her waist gently and held her in his warm embrace. After considering the matter further, he even kissed her in as passionate a manner as he could muster - though it wasn't half as impressive as what she was managing with ease.

A while passed like this before Pylaemenes returned to reality, feeling Nadira tugging at his toga in the strangest fashion. His eyes flickered upon and he looked up at her, suddenly recoiling with momentary horror. The reason for this reaction was her decided lack of much in the way of clothing at that moment. This bothered him to no end.

"Oh, um," he stammered, "look... Ah... I'm... I think you..."

"Come on, Py," she said, breathlessly, "let's have a bath in the tepidarium."

"What? But...no! It's...it's...against regulations. Men and women can't bathe together. It's in very bad taste. Besides, you should really put something on... What if someone were to see you?"

"Look around, Py," continued Nadira. "It's empty. Nobody else about. It's deserted. We have free reign here, my dear boy. Nobody is going to bother us."

Pylaemenes gulped and sat up. "I don't feel right doing that. Utterly against regulations."

"You wouldn't have felt right doing what you just did now unless I had convinced you to do it, either. And now that you've done it, you don't feel as though it was the wrong thing to do. I'm sure you're smiling inwardly, despite your austere exterior..."

The tutor was flummoxed. He felt even more astonished when she began to remove his toga. He therefore assisted her in the matter, albeit grudgingly, and accompanied her into the warm waters of the tepidarium. Once she had convinced him to sit near her, she began embracing him again. Now, this was simply too much for any chap with a sense of decorum to handle. He therefore slid forward into her arms in a momentary faint, hanging limply in her grip as she held him up.