The girl was a leggy brunette whose interpretation of the school uniform included a kilt that couldn't have been more than 15 inches long, worn above sky-blue stockings with dark stripes up the legs. Her shiny black shoes had impractically thick platform soles and heels that towered like skyscrapers. Instead of a blouse she wore a thin white jersey with the bottom buttons unfastened to show her navel. The couple were locked in a heady embrace. As the school inspector watched, unnoticed, they kissed and necked hungrily.
The girl seemed to be protesting something. "Johnny, please," she murmured softly, when he finally let her up for air, "we can't. I have to...get to class...shouldn't even....out here....." The pauses grew longer as Johnny silenced her with kisses, each one more eagerly accepted than the one before.
"Hey, relax Leanne, you know I can get you a pass," Johnny whispered, sprinkling kisses down her throat and neck. "And besides Ms Winsome never checks attendance anymore. We have the whole period to ourselves." He had one hand on her back, and the other near the bottom of her tiny skirt.
The girl was flushed. "But what if, what if somebody sees us!" she whispered, trying unsuccessfully to keep his hands at bay.
"Nobody will see us. Nobody ever comes back here. And they're all in class anyway." He kissed her again, long and thoroughly, while they pressed their bodies together. In the hall Mrs. Baxter stood watching, shocked and fascinated. Unnoticed, her hand slipped into her panties.
The pretty co-ed was rapidly losing ground. "God Johnny," she husked, when their lips separated an inch, "You're making me so hot. Please, we have to..." He covered her lips with his, pulling her closer. As they necked, his hand slipped down off her miniskirt onto the top of one nylon-clad thigh. The girl made a small sound deep in her throat. Following Johnny's urging she lifted one leg and wrapped it around him, pressing herself against his thrusting hips.
"Please stop, Johnny," Leanne panted at last, her eyes half-closed. "You're driving me crazy. We can't do this, not this week. Remember. Miss Fecunda confiscated all the girls' pills and I'm ovu .... Please, oh god, wait, oooooh, not theerrre....." The boy's hand disappeared under her skirt effectively stifling her protests. Adroitly he turned her around and began to lower her onto one of the old sofas. "Please, Johnny," she whimpered, "please hurrrry!"
From her vantage point in the hall, Mrs. Baxter watched, spellbound. They were actually going to do it! The boy was about to drill and with any luck preg the little vixen, right here in the school! Too stunned to move, the well-heeled blonde watched as the young girl collapsed onto an unused sofa, still clinched in an eager embrace. Most of the sofa was hidden from view by the staircase, so Mrs. Baxter could only see the bottom of their legs. Two fingers up her own well lubricated pussy made it hard to pay attention, anyway.
It wasn't hard to infer what was happening though. Leanne's sexy legs were rubbing against Johnny's on top, amid much snuffling and groaning. Johnny's ankles arched for a moment, and then his pants and shorts appeared around his calves, pushed down eagerly by Leanne's delicate hands. Evidently her underwear wasn't a significant issue, because a moment later Mrs. Baxter heard a sharp, feminine cry, followed by a sigh of "oh yesssss!" She could tell by the up and down movements of Johnny's legs that he must be thrusting his hips. Leanne's striped stockings glistened as she humped back. The movement of her own hand accelerated.
The chorus of moans and mews grew louder. Suddenly Leanne's platform shoes lifted high in the air and then disappeared, and Mrs. Baxter realized instantly that she must have crossed her legs around the boy's back. This was no teary romantic encounter: this was a mating rut.
Mrs. Baxter leaned back against the wall and abruptly realized she was breathing hard. The sounds of vigorous love-making were still coming from the stairwell. What should she do? This was intolerable behavior, they should both be expelled. She should just walk in and interrupt them, while they were... right in the middle of....god she was hot. Pulling on her collar, she imagined what Leanne must be feeling right then, pinned on the deep sofa with a hard, vibrant specimen of teenage virility thrusting into her, feeling her breasts against his chest, her nipples hard and swollen like Mrs. Baxter's were now. She shuddered, and shook her head vigorously, but her hand was back in her twat. She was so close... She had to stop the ...
"Pull out, Johnny! Pull out! Don't come in ..." Too late! "Aaaaahhhhhhgggg!" Mrs. McLeod gasped as the sound of the helplessly rutting girl's orgasm triggered her own. She came and came hard. With a sharp exhalation she turned her back on the cries and moans and creaking of springs coming from the staircase and stumbled down the corridor back to the relative tranquillity of the main hall.
"So then. This is what discipline has come to," Mrs. Baxter said, scowling across the big oak desk. She tried to recapture the sense of furious shock and outrage that had propelled her into the headmaster's office. Retelling her experience with the amorous students had unexpectedly refreshed the memory in her mind, and she found herself getting very warm. She could feel her nipples pressing against her bra. "Sex right here in the building! Students coupling like animals! Where does this fit in your new educational theories, Mrs. McLeod? Did *this* idea come up at one of your Student-Teacher Committee meetings? This situation must not be tolerated! Those students must be punished for such scandalous behavior, and you, madam -- are you listening to me!?"
The headmaster's eyes were unfocussed. With her head rolling loosely, she was making little thrusting motions with her hips, still largely hidden behind the desk. "Hmmmm? Lis-listening?" she said indifferently. "Oh! Oh yes! And I love it. It's so good. I want to--, to hear it. Please, don't stop now!" She was breathing through her mouth.
Mrs. Baxter stared at the clearly aroused headmaster in wonder. Had her report about the two oversexed students turned her on so much? It was a hot story, she had to admit, the way Leanne looked so sexy in her super-short skirt and striped stockings, the confident, masculine way that Johnny guided her onto the sofa and worked his ... way into her.
With an effort, she forced her mind away. She regretted not having let Arthur at least try to fuck her this morning before she came here; maybe she wouldn't have been so horny. This was no time to be caught in an erotic daydream! This was an outrage and something had to be done! And you would think, with all the money she paid for this dress, they could have cut it a little shorter so it didn't cover the best part of her legs and make it so dammed difficult to to get her fingers in her pussy! Wait, what did that have to do with it?
She came back to the present when the headmaster emitted a little gasp. Jimmy's hand had succeeded in reaching the top of her silk stockings. Now he was teasing lightly over the little space at the top of her thighs, between the dark bands of her garters and her black bikini panties. She had succeeded, while the Baxter bitch was rambling on about Johnny and Leanne, in hitching her skirt up over her bum, so it no longer impeded Jimmy's questing fingers. She gasped audibly when one finger found the wet spot on her crotch and slid along the length of her silk- covered lips. The presence of a Board inspector, and the impending disaster to her career, were becoming less and less important.
Thinking back, Mrs. McLeod remembered when she had first decided to dress like a real woman and started wearing stockings instead of the triple protection of baggy slacks, panties and pantyhose to school. Her husband had thought it a little strange at first, given that she had always been so conservative. He objected to the cost when she started buying the expensive silk ones, and then insisted on wearing them every day. Eventually she had mentioned her husband's concern to Jimmy, before a Committee meeting one day. He suggested she invite him over for supper. Her husband thought that was odd too, but he didn't realize that Jimmy was an exceptional student.
On the evening of Jimmy's visit, Mrs. McLeod had drunk too much wine with supper and tottered off to bed early. Jimmy and her husband had stayed up very late talking, but not too later to give her a delicious sleepy fuck when he eventually came to bed. Jimmy must have explained things to him very well because the next morning her husband made no objection at all when, after another quick fuck, she slipped into a pair of red fish-net hose and a matching red garter belt. In fact it seemed to turn him on quite a lot.
Jimmy came back for supper once more a week later, just when ...? Something important that slipped her mind. This time all three of them stayed up late, drinking and talking and laughing, until her husband fell asleep, glass in hand, in his favorite stuffed chair. Mrs. McLeod herself was feeling no pain from the drinks and soon she was howling with pleasure as Jimmy gave her had a delightful little fuck on the living room rug while her husband dozed. It was so much better than the quickies she was used to in her office when Jimmy just turned her over a chair between classes.
After that night her husband started helping her choose her underwear each morning. He often helped her slip on her stockings and shoes, while Mrs. McLeod sipped the fresh orange juice he made for her and enjoyed the feeling of being petted and pampered. Dressing her seemed to get her husband awfully worked up. He was usually rock-hard by the time he was done. Sometimes she let him make her late for school. Lately she preferred to make him wait until she came home at night and he had spent the day suffering. Sometimes he even called her from his law office just to tell her how hot she looked. When he did, she knew she'd have no trouble being on top that night.
Not surprisingly, it was Jimmy who responded to Mrs. Baxter's last complaint, and now he became very serious. "Mrs. Baxter," he said intently, "I do not mean to minimize the seriousness of this incident, but I think there are two sides to the issue." He leaned forward in his chair, at an angle which incidentally gave him better access to Mrs. McLeod's panties. "These are young people, full of emotions, and they sometimes make mistakes. We get carried away sometimes, I admit it. That's why we need direction from adults, from teachers and parents. Those students are classmates of mine, I know them well. Perhaps they shouldn't have been skipping classes, but they are very much in love." If that were the case then Johnny had been very much in love with at least three other girls that week, but once again Jimmy's sense of tact prevailed.
"They went some place to make out and they got carried away. An unfortunate scene. But what about you, Mrs. Baxter? You saw what they were doing, why didn't you interrupt them? These kids needed moral guidance at that moment, and you just stood and watched. Why? Why didn't you stop them from doing something they will both regret later? Why did you just stand there looking on voyeristically as an unplanned pregnancy occured?" This time it was he who glared across the desk accusingly.
Mrs. Baxter was taken aback. "Well, I never -- I mean, I couldn't.... there was no time to..."
Jimmy interrupted her. "It's easy to come in here and complain afterward, but I can't help thinking you had a chance to do the right thing and you blew it. Could it be that you actually enjoyed watching the girl getting knocked up? That you were spying from the corridor allowing these two innocent kids to make a baby for your amusement?"
The pretty blonde's face was red. "No! No, of course not. It wasn't like that at all!" She looked about, trying to collect her thoughts.
There was no use appealing to Mrs. McLeod for support. The headmaster was lolling in her chair, quite obviously lifting herself on her arms to thrust her hips behind the desk, gasping "Hunh! Hunh! Hunh!" in time with the thrusts. Jimmy now had two fingers inside her panties. The freckled brunette was shamelessly goosing herself on his digits, very nearly oblivious to her surroundings.
"It wasn't like that, not as you're saying," Mrs. Baxter said defensively. "The point is they shouldn't have been there at all! And if proper discipline had been maintained from the outset they never would have come to such a compromising position! Letting the boys strut around like little kings, and the girls wearing their skirts so short...."
Not that there was anything wrong with a fashionably brief skirt. Not, that is, if it were worn tastefully, by a woman with dynamite legs. Like hers. Maybe with shiny nylons and a new pair of shoes Arthur would fuck her more often, or the new Jamaican gardener - now there was a man who could send a woman to the maternity ward! ....
She shook her head. Where did these thoughts keep coming from?
"Mrs. Baxter," Jimmy said again, pausing to slip a third finger inside the panting headmaster, "I think we have answered your complaints well enough. Lovebright's is going through some growing pains to be sure, but the Academy is still in good shape. And as for Mrs. McLeod, well, we are all taken with her openness and ability to accept new ideas." His arm pistoned steadily as he spoke.
"Oh fuck yessss!" the headmaster gasped, slumping down in her chair. "Gimme some more....more i-ideas!"
Mrs. Baxter was confused. The headmaster was acting just like a woman who was getting a dandy little finger-job, and above the desk she could see Jimmy's arm moving back and forth, in and out. She knew she should be terrifically upset, outraged in fact, but the poor woman clearly needed to come, and badly. Besides, she had succeeded in getting a finger into her own hole and it seemed harder and harder to hold onto her sense of anger.
Jimmy had more or less dismissed her, but she knew she had more to say. It was just so difficult to keep it all straight. Flighty, irrelevant thoughts kept slipping through her mind, flipping against her consciousness the way a really short skirt would flip against her thighs as she walked, reminding her with every step of just how deliciously sexy she looked, how much she needed a good ....
Shaking off the wandering thoughts again, she cried out, "Wait! There's more! There are other things! I just can't quite..." Concentrating hard to keep her head clear she tried to remember what else she had seen that had shocked her so. The suspicious- looking plants growing in neat rows in the greenhouse; the new selection of books and magazines in the library, and the foxy young librarian more concerned with combing her hair than the laughter and necking going on around her; the male teacher sitting behind his desk between classes, yakking and flirting with two pretty, provocatively dressed students who were sitting on the arms of his chair; the obedient, identically dressed young girls walking behind the seniors.
That was it!
With the memory Mrs. Baxter's composure, and some of her anger, returned. Ignoring the steady moans from the sexed-out headmaster and interrupting her own masturbation, she glared at Jimmy. "Let's see you explain this away, Mr. smart-ass scholarship student," she challenged.
Classes changed again shortly after Mrs. Baxter, her heart still pounding from her orgasm, returned to the main hall from her side trip to the stairwell. Once again she found herself engulfed in a swirl of boisterous, cheerful students, laughing and talking as they ambled to their next class or stopped at their lockers to comb their hair or change books. In the old days noise at this level would never have been tolerated. Once again the rich young housewife was amazed by the shameless uniforms the girls were wearing, the revealing tops, thigh-baring skirts, fancy nylons and sexy shoes. Once again she marveled at the male students, each with his steady gaggle of giggly girlfriends.
Several boys had seized the few minutes between classes for a quick session of making out, or more, in some darker corner. The senior male students, of which there could not have been more than a dozen, were particularly popular. As she watched, Mrs. Baxter found herself thinking there was something different about them. Then she saw it.
The senior boys were not carrying any books. In addition to whatever number of female companions he happened to have, each senior was accompanied by another girl, juniors by the looks of them, that patiently followed him around as he made his way to the next class. These girls were all dressed in a foreshortened version of the school uniform. They all wore navy blue, garterless stockings that stopped just at the edge of the mini-length kilt, and simple black pams. The trailing girl carried the boy's books, and sometimes his jacket or whatever else he handed to her. They didn't seem to mind at all.
Mrs. Baxter drew in her breath in shock. Why, those girls were being used as servants! This was beyond belief! Appalled, yet fascinated, Mrs. Baxter followed one girl as she in turn puppy-dogged her senior. She stayed with him faithfully, making way for any other girls that came over to talk to him. She waited patiently in the hall, without setting his books down, when he ducked into the washroom. While she waited, she chatted amiably with another girl, similarly burdened, who was waiting for a different senior. After a few minutes the boy came out, bent down to give his girl a quick peck on the lips, and headed off to his next class, the girl still following brightly.
It was all too much. Mrs. Baxter's anger, which had been building steadily since she entered the school, finally boiled over. How could anyone tolerate what had happened to the school? She would not stand idly by while her beloved alma mater was reduced to a mocking nonsense of a prep school with no moral fiber or discipline whatsoever.
It was that new headmaster, McLeod, she was responsible for this, and by God she would pay. Mrs. Baxter swore she would have her head! Her fists clenched in anger, so red and heated that smoke nearly billowed from her ears, the slender blonde turned about and marched down to the main office to vent her rage on the headmaster.
Now she glared furiously at the complacent student sitting behind the headmaster's desk. She was by now certain that he was responsible for Mrs. McLeod's descent into panting delirium. She snarled at him: "Treating girls like servants, Mr. King. Like servants! I am speechless with anger. You and your hellish headmaster have destroyed the integrity of this once fine school and you will pay. Heads will roll, I promise you. Mrs. McLeod, I guarantee you will be fired before the week is out, and I will see that you, Mr. King, and all of your ilk are expelled!"
The student raised his free hand. "Mrs. Baxter, do try to stay calm. Those seniors you are referring to are prefects. They have been appointed to lend a hand to maintaining the rules and guiding the younger students through academia. This is a long-standing tradition at Lovebright's.
"And, as the saying goes, those that are given the most have the most to give. We, the privileged members of society, must not forget we are bound to a lifetime of service to the community. The sub-prefects, not servants as you mistakenly called them, are learning the importance of service to a greater society by spending a little time in the service of others. They compete scholastically for the privilege, and in time many of them may become prefects themselves."
Once again Jimmy was being tactful. The junior girls did indeed compete for the limited number of sub-prefect positions. Scholastic aptitude, however, had never been a strong suit with Lovebright students. It had proved simpler to substitute a bathing suit competition and a petting contest and then let the senior boys each decide on their preferred proteges. It was rumored that a number of the wealthier but less well endowed girls had undergone medical enhancements just to improve their chances of making the list.