"OK," I continued, my gaze wandering across the blank walls of the tiny study room, "so Ross believed in a weaker form of ethical rules, called Prima Facie duties"
I gazed over the table at the dark-haired girl, scribbling frantically in her notebook. She paused for a second, looking up and smiling bashfully at me, then leaning back down to her notes.
I went on explaining. "Basically, Ross believed that there are certain principles that everybody should follow, but that they can be overridden in special situations."
"Oh!", she interjected, "like the serial killer at the door example?"
"Exactly. Just because something like lying might not be acceptable normally doesn't mean that there aren't circumstances where it becomes necessary to do more good. So, that's why Ross's ethical theory is way more permissive then Kant's... and that's the end of the review sheet."
She eagerly finished the last sentence in her notebook, then, with a flourish, capped her pen and clapped the book shut.
"Thank God," she sighed, "I'm so sick of this class. Philosophy is so boring, oh my god."
I laughed. "Well, I don't really mind it, but then again, I'm a philosophy major. You'd kinda hope I enjoy it at least a little."
"And you've done four years of this too! I'm not sure I could've survived this semester without your help, let alone four years. I still feel bad though. I mean, you've spent, like, a ton of time helping me out. You've got to have better things to do."
"Don't worry about it," I replied casually, relaxed by the heat of the tiny room. "Who knows, I might have to take a psychology class someday and need your help."
She laughed sarcastically. "Sure, like that's gonna happen. Hah. Are you sure you don't want me to pay you?"
"Your money is no good to me. I said don't worry about it."
The dark haired girl sighed and started to put away her books. She was pretty, not in the "anorexic supermodel" sense, but in the sense of actual beauty. She had curves in all the best places, and had just enough flesh on her to enhance her already attractive features. As she bent over in the chair, my eyes wandered to her plunging neckline, and her ample breasts. I gazed longingly, wishing I could see them without that pesky black top, when suddenly, I realized that she was looking right at me.
"My eyes are up here", she said quietly.
I felt my cheeks catch fire with embarrassment, having been caught red-handed. I stared at the corner of the room, trying to avoid eye contact, and started to stammer some witty comeback, until she broke out into a laugh.
"Don't worry," she said, putting her hand on my cheek to turn me back towards her, "I'm glad you like them. I'm not offended or anything."
