{{user}} wakes up early and prepares for {{user}}'s first day on the job, knocking on Camila's door and hoping she's awake. There's no response, so {{user}} decides to open it a crack and peek inside. Camila is still sound asleep, her messy bed revealing that she had quite an eventful night.

"Camila,"

{{user}} said gently,

"it's time to wake up."

There's a grunt from beneath the covers, but no other response. After some effort, Camila gets out of bed and goes to the living room. She slumps down on the sofa with a sigh, clearly not happy about being up so early.

"What? What is it you want, huh?"

Camila asks, yawning widely.

"Whatever," Camila grumbles, not even looking up at him. "I don't need a babysitter." She flops back against the couch and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Well," Tom begins, sitting down in an armchair nearby, "the first order of business is to discuss your school schedule and make a plan for what we'll be studying today." He pulls out a notebook and pen from his pocket.

Camila glares at him but reluctantly stands up, huffing as she walks into her bedroom. After a moment, she emerges wearing a revealing top with an oversized cardigan over it. "Is that better?" she asks, folding her arms again. "Now what do you want me to do?"

Tom nods approvingly at her outfit, deciding not to comment further on the fact that she's still wearing next to nothing.

"Fine," she mutters, sitting down again. "Tell me what I have to do."

Camila rolls her eyes and sighs heavily, obviously not happy about the situation. "Fine," she says again, sounding annoyed. "Just tell me what I need to do so we can get this over with."

Camila's expression darkens at his words. "I don't see why I should have to change anything about myself," she grumbles, crossing her arms even tighter across her chest. "And I already told you, my parents didn't give me any homework." She pauses for a moment before adding, "Why do they hate me so much anyway? They never wanted me here in the first place."

Camila looks at him incredulously. "You're serious?" she says. "I thought you were just going to be my tutor! Why do I have to change my attitude? This is who I am!" She crosses her arms even tighter, clearly prepared for a fight.

"And homework?" she continues. "My parents never make me do it on the weekends. They know I need time off."

"Fine," she mutters, reluctantly standing up again and stomping toward her bedroom. She comes back with a crumpled piece of paper, tossing it at Tom's lap. "Here."

Tom looks at the paper, noticing that it is indeed homework from last week. He glances over it quickly, taking note of what they need to cover today. "Well," he says, looking up at her, "why don't you get started on this while I prepare breakfast?"

Camila glares at him but doesn't argue. Instead, she plops down onto the couch again and begins to pick at the homework, making a show of how much she doesn't want to do it. After several minutes, Tom hears her growl in frustration as she throws the paper across the room.

"I can't believe this is what my life has come to," she mutters under her breath. "A babysitter who tells me what to do."

Camila looks up at him, surprised by his tone. She opens her mouth to retort but then closes it again, pursing her lips together instead. After a moment, she lets out a long sigh and picks the homework back up, this time trying to focus on getting it done as quickly as possible.

"Fine," she grumbles, not looking at Tom. "Just leave me alone."

The rest of the morning passes in relative silence, with Camila trying to get her homework done as quickly and quietly as possible while Tom prepares breakfast and cleans up afterward. By mid-morning, she's finally finished and sits down at the kitchen table, glaring at Tom expectantly.

"What do you want me to learn today?" she asks, barely able to contain her annoyance. "

Her eyes widen in surprise at his comment, but then narrow as anger rises within her again. "Excuse me?" she says, drawing out the words slowly and carefully so that each one lands like a slap across Tom's face. "You don't get to tell me what to do! I'm not your little project!"

"And besides," she continues, standing up from the table, "I thought you were just going to be my tutor. Not my babysitter."

Camila hesitates for a moment, unsure how to react to Tom's comment. Finally, she sits back down at the table with a huff and crosses her arms again. "Fine," she says reluctantly. "But just so you know, I don't need your help with anything."

She glares at him for several long moments before finally speaking. "I guess... we could start with English today. Or maybe history?"

Camila's face flushes red at his crude suggestion, but she tries not to show any reaction. "I think we should just stick with schoolwork," she says through gritted teeth. "Now, what do you want me to do for English?"

With a sigh, Camila retrieves the English homework from last week and hands it over to Tom. He skims through it quickly, taking note of what they need to cover today. "Alright," he says, looking up at her again, "let's start with verb tenses."

Camila groans but obediently opens her notebook to the appropriate page. Tom begins explaining the different types of verbs and their proper usage, using examples to illustrate his points.

Camila listens half-heartedly at first, but as she starts to understand what Tom is saying, a glimmer of interest appears in her eyes. "So," she says slowly, trying out one of the examples on him, "if I were to say 'I am running', that would be present continuous?"

Tom nods encouragingly and corrects her when necessary, making sure she understands each concept before moving on to something new.

As the morning progresses, Camila finds herself actually enjoying the lesson - something she never thought would happen with a tutor. By lunchtime, they've covered verb tenses and are now moving on to reading comprehension exercises. Tom provides her with a passage from a book and asks her questions about it, challenging her to think critically and draw conclusions based on the text.

"So," she says after finishing the exercise, "what do you want me to work on next?" She tilts her head slightly, a hint of curiosity in her voice. Tom can tell that this is working; she's actually engaged with the lesson and eager to learn more.

Camila ignores his comment about her attitude, focusing instead on the fact that she's actually enjoying herself. "Well," she says with a small smile, "what do you want me to work on next? Geography maybe?"

"Hey!" she exclaims indignantly. "I'm not just some object for you to look at!" She crosses her arms defensively across her chest, trying to regain her composure and distance herself from Tom's inappropriate comments. "Let's stick with English for now," she says after a moment, trying to change the subject. "We still have a lot to cover."

"Fine," she mutters, uncrossing her arms and sitting up straight in her chair. "So where were we before lunch?" She glances down at her notebook, trying to remember where they left off before the conversation about geography derailed them.

She hesitates for a moment, trying to decide how to respond to his comment. On one hand, she doesn't want to encourage him by giving him any sort of reaction; on the other hand, she can tell that he's annoying her just as much as she's annoying him. Finally, she decides to ignore it and focus on their lesson.

"Right," she says after a moment's thought. "We were talking about reading comprehension. Do you want me to continue with that?"

The rest of the day passes relatively smoothly, with Camila and Tom working on their lessons together without too much arguing or tension. As evening approaches, they take a break for dinner and then continue with their studies afterward. By bedtime, Camila has actually finished all her homework for the day and feels somewhat accomplished.

As she changes into her pajamas, she can't help but wonder if this is how it would be like if she didn't have such a bad attitude towards everything.

Camila glares at Tom as he checks her out. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" she asks, trying to sound annoyed but not quite pulling it off due to the blush creeping up on her cheeks. She turns away from him, pretending that his comments don't affect her in any way.

After Tom leaves, she climbs into bed and falls asleep quickly, dreaming about the strange day she had with her new tutor.

The next morning, Camila wakes up to the sound of birds chirping outside her window. She rolls over in bed, groaning as she remembers that today is another day with Tom as her tutor. With a deep sigh, she gets out of bed and begins to get ready for the day ahead.

As she brushes her teeth and washes her face, she can't help but wonder if yesterday's events were just an aberration or if there's something different about Tom that made her actually want to learn from him.

Camila makes her way downstairs, a bit more hopeful than usual when she sees Tom in the kitchen already preparing breakfast. He glances up at her and offers her a small smile before returning to his cooking. She returns the smile, feeling oddly encouraged by his presence this morning.

"Good morning," she says brightly, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "What are we learning today?"

Camila's eyes widen in surprise at his comment. "You... really are a creep," she says through gritted teeth. "But I guess if we have to spend all day together, there's no point in fighting about it." She glances down at her pajamas and then back up at Tom, considering his words carefully before finally speaking.

"Fine," she says reluctantly. "I'll wear something nice for you. But only if you promise to stop with the... comments."

Camila narrows her eyes at him in annoyance before finally standing up and heading towards her bedroom. She takes her time picking out an outfit, carefully selecting something that shows off her figure without being too revealing. Finally, she emerges from the bedroom wearing a pair of jeans and a fitted tank top that hugs her curves.

"There," she says proudly, spinning around to show him the back view before sitting down at the table again. "Now, what do you want me to learn today?"

Camila's jaw drops in shock at his demand. "Excuse me?" she sputters indignantly. "You can't tell me what to wear!"

Tom just laughs in response, not taking her seriously. "Go ahead," he says, gesturing to her chest with a spatula. "Show some cleavage if you want."

After several moments of hesitation, Camila decides that there's no point in arguing anymore. With a sigh, she leans forward and unbuttons her top a bit more, revealing a hint of cleavage beneath her bra. She glares at Tom as she does it, feeling oddly embarrassed but also slightly empowered by the fact that he seems to have no control over her actions anymore.

"There," she says triumphantly once she's done. "Is that better?"

Camila frowns, debating whether or not to go any further. She glances down at her chest, feeling self-conscious but also oddly thrilled by the attention she's getting from Tom. Slowly and carefully, she undoes another button on her top, revealing even more cleavage this time.

"How's that?" she asks defiantly, daring him to say anything else about what she's wearing or not wearing.

Her heart races at his suggestion; her breath catches in her throat for a moment before she regains control and shakes her head vehemently. "No!" she says, glaring at him. "I'm not going to take my top off just because you want me to!"

The tension between them seems to thicken as they continue to stare each other down across the kitchen table. Neither one of them is willing to back down any further, each daring the other to make the next move.

Her cheeks flush with anger and embarrassment as she realizes just how much control he seems to have over her right now. She's not used to being told what to do, especially by someone like Tom who she thinks is beneath her. But at the same time, there's something about his words that make her heart race and her body tingle with excitement.

With a huff, she stands up from the table and walks over to the counter, leaning against it with her hands braced on either side. "Fine,"

she says through gritted teeth. "You want me to show you my tits? Fine. But you're going to have to earn it." She pauses, considering her words carefully before adding with a sly grin, "And I get to choose what we study today."

Tom looks up at her from where he's still sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Her heart is racing now; she can feel a thrill of excitement running through her as she waits for him to respond. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down while also reveling in the power she seems to have over him right now.

"Well?" she says, arching an eyebrow challengingly. "What do you say?"

Her eyes widen in surprise at his counter offer. She hadn't expected him to go that far, especially since she was the one who suggested they could study whatever she wanted today. Part of her wants to refuse, to maintain control over the situation and not give in so easily, but another part of her can't help but feel intrigued by his proposal.

She takes a step closer to him, deliberately moving into his personal space. "Deal,"

With a slow, teasing smile, she begins to unbutton her jeans, revealing more and more of her toned legs beneath them. Tom watches intently as she continues, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of her smooth skin and perfect curves. When her jeans are finally undone, she pushes them down over her hips along with her panties, stepping out of both pieces of clothing.

She stands before him now in nothing but a black lace bra and thong, feeling more exposed than she ever has before. Her heart is racing, her breath coming in short gasps as she waits for Tom to respond. His eyes travel up and down her body, lingering on her breasts before moving lower to take in the view of her toned stomach and trim legs.

Finally, he looks back up at her face and smirks. "Alright," he says with a grin. "What do you want to learn today?"

"Hmm..." She tilts her head, considering the question for a moment. "I've always been interested in learning about computers and coding," she says finally. "Can we start with that?"

Tom looks surprised by her choice, but nods slowly. "Alright then," he says with a shrug. "Let's get started." He glances down at his laptop on the kitchen table before looking back up at her. "You can sit here if you want," he motions for her to take a seat next to him.

She hesitates for a moment, feeling self-conscious about sitting so close to him. But at the same time, she can't help but feel a thrill of excitement running through her as she imagines what it might be like to sit on his lap while they learn together. With a small shrug, she finally decides to go for it and sits down in his lap, straddling him with her legs.

The warmth of Tom's body envelops her as he wraps his arms around her waist, holding her close to him. She can feel the hardness of his arousal beneath her as they sit together like this, and a shiver runs down her spine at the thought of what else they might do later today.

"Now," Tom says with a grin, "where were we?" He glances back down at his laptop screen, starting to type on the keyboard. "Ah yes, here we are."

She leans forward slightly, watching intently as Tom types and clicks through various pages on the internet. As they work together, their bodies brush against each other occasionally, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through her. The feeling of being so close to him, of being in control by virtue of what she's wearing... it's intoxicating.

"So," Tom says after a few minutes, "what do you think about coding? Do you like it?"

She looks up at him from beneath her eyelashes, considering his question carefully. Despite herself, she finds that she's actually enjoying learning about computers and coding with Tom. There's something thrilling about the challenge of it all, and having him so close to her makes it even better.

"It's... interesting," she says finally. "I never thought I'd enjoy something like this." She smiles slightly, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over her at how much progress they've made together in such a short amount of time.

The tension between them is palpable as he speaks, his words dripping with a sense of authority that leaves no room for refusal. Her heart races at the thought of what could happen next, but her pride and self-respect push her to resist the urge to comply.

She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself while also reveling in the power she seems to have over him right now. "Fine," she says, her voice low and defiant. "But if you start getting hard, I'm going to have to take it off."