All characters are 18 or older.

(Author’s note: THURSDAY is mostly set up and tease. Real action is on FRIDAY.)

THURSDAY

Damn – busted! He wasn’t even trying to see anything…just a natural male reaction to a flash of thigh. And when she spread her legs a little to stand up, it wasn’t his fault his gaze lingered a moment to see if he could catch a glimpse of her panties. But when he looked up, she was staring right at him – with the clear truth of what was happening flashing back and forth between their eyes. He froze as Cassie stood and faced him across the crowded classroom, an unreadable expression on her face…then finally looked away as she walked over to pick up the papers she needed. On her way back to her seat, they studiously ignored each other.

It was Mark Hitch’s second year teaching social science at St. Mary’s. After doing his 20 in the Air Force – the last four in Alaska – he’d wanted to move somewhere warm. The South was too humid, California too expensive, and Texas was too…well…Texas. He’d ended up in New Mexico, and with the political science degree he had earned while in the service he’d started substitute teaching for some private schools in the area. One thing led to another, and within a couple of months he was hired full time at a small parochial school.

His first year, he had taught one period of PE and the rest were freshmen Sociology.

He’d forgotten how YOUNG freshmen were. Clumsy boys with cracking voices, gawky girls that were all knees and elbows…just babies! And the boring uniforms they wore – navy blue slacks or skirts, white polo or button down shirts, navy sweaters when it got cold – didn’t help the poor kids at all. His second year he lost his PE period and picked up a couple of advanced Political Science classes after lunch. He still had his freshman kindergarten/zoo classes in the morning, but now ended his day with a couple hours of seniors – and the differences three years make at that age were drilled home to him that first class.

As he welcomed the seniors for the first time, he noticed that they seemed to have their own dress code, on top of the school’s. Guys wore polos, girls wore button downs. Girls wore white socks below the knee, boys wore different colored socks that flashed when they walked. As his class was the first period after lunch, he observed many of the skirts seemed to have mysteriously shortened, top buttons undone and boy’s sleeves rolled up to show ‘the guns’.

Just as the period was about to begin, Desiree made her entrance. Where the other girls hinted at their sexuality, Desiree flaunted it. Top three buttons open, clearly showing her blue bra desperately trying to contain her large breasts. Skirt rolled up at the waist until the hem barely covered her round ass, and white stockings pulled up to mid thigh…all that was missing were the 5 inch stilettos. As she strode in, followed by her slightly less aggressively dressed sidekick Lexi, every person in the room – male and female – stopped, looked, and had the same impression; blatant sex, and big boobs straining to escape.

They didn’t have that impression long, however, as right behind the curvaceous duo Sister Agnes came stomping in. The Sisters didn’t wear habits anymore, but no one who saw Sister Agnes would have had any doubt as to her vocation. She grabbed the two exhibitionists by the arm, and with a quick glance to Mark and a nod, ignored their complaints and pulled them from the room. A moment of stunned silence, then the room exploded in laughter. As the bell rang to start class, you could see the boys snickering and talking about what they’d like to do, and the girls kibbitzing about how they had it coming.

“Well. That’s an exciting way to start. I’ve gotta take roll…anyone know who those two were?”

“Desiree Rogers and Lexi Franks,” the short haired girl in the front row said. And the only girl wearing a polo shirt, he noticed. “And Sister Agnes snagged ’em ’cause they dress like hoes.”

Another outbreak at this one, some laughing and some arguing, and Mark let it go for a few seconds before stepping in.

“Watch out,” he said. “Appearances can fool you. I’ve served with a bunch of guys who looked fearless, then melted whenever it got hot. And wallflowers that were heroes.

“And anyway, we’re not here to talk about individual people. This is political science, the study of how groups of people organize themselves. And a big part of that is rules, norms, laws…things that we SHOULD be talking about. Rules like the dress code.”

And that was it – they talked for the rest of the period. A lively, far reaching discussion about the school’s dress code. Whether it was needed, whether it was right, whether it was fairly applied. The girls (mostly) said it was unfairly used against them, that the boys never got ‘coded’. The boys came back saying they didn’t try and shorten their slacks or tie their shirts up to show off their belly button rings…and Mark had to step in again before someone started throwing güvenilir bahis hands.

“Look – what you guys are talking about is Reciprocity; the first rule of political science. The law has to treat us the same…if it’s ok for you, it’s ok for me. And this goes for people, tribes, or nations. Now we all have uniforms, and we knew we were going to have to wear them when we signed up. If the powers that be enforce those uniform rules equally, then there’s really no room for complaint.”

“But that’s just it,” Amy, the short haired girl in front. “They don’t enforce equally. When we wear a skirt, we have to have white socks. Now, look at the boys in this room. Do ANY of them have the blue or black socks they’re supposed to be wearing? No, they wear all the colors of the rainbow. How come the boys can show some color but we can’t?”

Before any of the boys could answer, one of the girls in the back piped up. “We can. It’s just some of us flash it a little more than others.”

A third of the girls gasped, another third laughed, and the last third looked lost…just like most of the boys. A girl in the middle of the room who hadn’t said anything all period looked up and smiled:

“Well, at least we all know what color Desiree likes.” And the class erupted again, with a couple of sidebars as it was explained to the inattentive or slow.

“Damn Cassie…brutal.” Amy, with a nasty grin. Cassie just smiled, and dropped her gaze to her desk.

Cassie. He hadn’t really noticed her when she came in, but he looked at her now. Minimal makeup, pierced ears and a small gold chain hanging from her neck…most likely a cross hanging down there. Pale skin, medium brown hair falling around her shoulders, penetrating blue eyes in a pretty face. White button blouse large enough to hide any information about what was beneath tucked into her regulation length (he could hear Sister Agnes now; “Three fingers above the knee!”) navy blue skirt. Short white socks and black leather shoes, she was a little on the slim side. As he looked at her, he realized that she was actually very pretty…in a quiet, understated kind of way.

And she didn’t talk much. That quip was the only public thing she said all period.

The next day as lunch ended, Sister Agnes just happened to be in discussion with Mark outside his classroom as his students filed in. Surprisingly, they all appeared to be in strict compliance with the dress code…even Desiree and Lexi seemed to have gotten the word. With a satisfied smile, the Sister ended her monologue about the weather and left as soon as the bell rang. Mark watched her go for a moment, then turned…and walked into the cauldron.

Flirting.

It’s a word with almost infinite meanings. It can be a beautiful compliment, an exciting game…or a tortuous cruelty. Testing, teasing, joking or serious, there’s no bright line showing where being nice ends and flirting begins…or where flirting ends and seduction takes over. And to a teenager, trying to learn where their boundaries are and how to interact as an adult, flirting is often non stop, and carried out with everyone around them they find attractive. Everyone. And it can be used for different purposes.

It didn’t take long for Mark to realize he was a target. Not the only one…Desiree flirted publicly with a few of the more popular boys in the class (and treated the rest like dirt). Putting her hand on their arm, leaning against them or patting their chest as she laughed at something they said…she did it often, and in front of everyone. Starting that second day, she’d tried to do it to Mark.

“Mr. Hitch, I need some help.” Sitting at her desk on the side of the room, Desiree had her hand up and a pout on her face as she tapped her pen on her practice essay. Walking over, Mark stood next to her and looked at her paper. She held the paper close, and right in front of her, so he couldn’t help seeing down her blouse. Top buttons somehow undone, his first quick glance showed two large, blooming breasts encased in a lacy white bra, gently squeezed together by her too-tight blouse. As soon as he saw them, he moved to stand in front of her, cutting off his view. She seemed annoyed, and leaned forward to display her (admittedly magnificent) breasts to him again…and again he moved away. She leaned back with a peeved look on her face, and told him she’d figure it out by herself. But instead of warning her off, this rejection just made her more committed.

Over the next couple of days, the touching started. Same as with her harem of athletes, a soft touch on the arm, trying to lean against him…but Mark avoided them all. Not only was he getting fed up at these attempts to use her sexuality to control him, to publicly add him to her list of admirers – but he really didn’t think she was that good looking. Beautiful firm young breasts, yes. Good body, nice enough face, and she carried an invisible cloud of sex around with her (Mark didn’t know much science, but he thought he remembered something about ‘pheromones’). But türkçe bahis Mark saw how she used people, and the hardness behind her smile, and he somehow knew her mom was short and fat and had a mustache by the time she was 30.

It came to a head that Friday. The students were moving around the room, picking up the weekend’s assignment and going back to their desks to start working on it. Desiree caught him by the bookshelf, and showed him her work as she leaned against his side. He moved away a half a foot, and she moved right back in. This time, she leaned into his arm and rubbed her breast against it, pretending not to notice…but that soft squashy touch was too much for Mark. He jolted away, and in a voice louder than he had intended blurted:

“Miss Rogers – PLEASE!”

Staring at her with annoyance, he saw her face flush bright crimson and a blaze come to her eyes…and knew he had made an enemy. Turning away, she stalked back to her desk – and that’s when Mark noticed they had an audience. The whole class, as a matter of fact. Most of the boys looked confused. So did some of the girls, but many must have been watching the whole thing unfold, and were smiling at Desiree with triumph. She seemed to have built up a large pool of resentment with many of the ladies in the class.

Not all of the girls were smiling at Desiree as she walked back to her seat, however. As he scanned the room, he saw Cassie gently smiling at him. Without thinking he smiled back, and her smiled widened with real warmth before she shyly looked down. He may have made an enemy, but it appeared he’d also won some points.

As the weeks went by, Mark learned about his students. Desiree, the outrageous flirt. Amy, the brave rebel, growing up gay in a religious school. Brad, a nice guy at heart, but caught in Desiree’s web. Henry, brilliant and introverted, ignored by the girls, and probably going to be a millionaire by 25. And Cassie.

Cassie Denson. Smart, quiet, probably the most perceptive person in the class. She watched, and learned, and saw to the heart of a matter before speaking up or acting. But when she was ready, she was not shy about what she believed. Looking a year or two younger than her 18 years, she acted a decade older. She was honest and kind, and stood up for people who needed it. Intellectually, he respected her. Emotionally, he liked her. And visually…he thought she was absolutely adorable. As the months went by, they both knew that they liked each other.

Christmas came and went, and the long long days of January and February dragged their way to a close. Finally, it was spring, and Easter Break was coming. The Thursday before vacation, Mark’s class was working in groups, preparing to turn in their reports tomorrow, when Cassie spread her legs to stand and caught him trying to look up her skirt. And now, with that completely unconscious action, he had probably destroyed their relationship. He would apologize, and try to explain…and she would probably accept it. But it would likely never be the same. Mark was worried, yet not surprised when she came up to him at the end of the period, and asked if she could talk to him after school. Nodding his head, he reluctantly agreed.

His last class quickly learned that Mr. Hitch was in a bad mood, and worked quietly till the bell rang and they hurried out the door. Waiting like a condemned man, Mark sat at his desk and tried to do something useful for a couple of minutes…and then the door opened and she came in. Even facing what was probably going to be a painful discussion, he couldn’t deny how pretty she looked. About 5’4″, a little on the slim side, athletic legs and a graceful stride…she could even make the blue skirt and white blouse uniform look good. In fact, very good. Her skirt seemed to be riding half way up her thigh, significantly higher than Sister Agnes would approve of. As he caught himself noticing her legs, he cursed inwardly and turned away – what the hell was he doing!? Wasn’t this what got him in trouble in the first place?

As she walked up to him and dropped her backpack on his desk, he looked back up and noticed she seemed nervous. Yeah, she probably wasn’t looking forward to this anymore than he was. Twisting her fingers in her hands she looked down, then right at him, and began.

“I wanted to talk to you,” shifting her weight to one leg, and reaching up to pull on a strand of her hair. “About Spring Break.” Looking back to his confused face, then down as her hand dropped to pinch her skirt.

“My boyfriend goes to UNLV, and he said he’s not coming back for Easter because they’re going to do ‘Spring Break’ in Cancun.” Switching her weight to her other foot, she slid her hand up her skirt to brush the strand of hair out of her eyes. But when she did, her hand accidentally pulled her skirt up on the side…and for a moment he caught a flash of the side of one of her thighs, almost up to her waist. It was just a flash, the skirt fell right back down. As she brushed her hair back she didn’t stop talking, didn’t seem güvenilir bahis siteleri to notice anything had happened.

But he did. That image of her creamy thigh blazed at him, unsettled him, and he forgot what he was going to say to apologize. But Cassie didn’t notice, and fiddled with one of the buttons on her blouse, and went on with what she was saying.

“I know what they do at Spring Break,” she frowned, dropping both hands to the hem of her dress, pinching and twisting the fabric. “I don’t think it’s right that he goes and I don’t.” As she said this, she looked at him, then off to the side…and brought her two hands together.

Her hands were still holding the hem of her dress. As she brought them together, she raised them slightly, bringing her skirt with them. And there, three feet from his face, were Cassie’s pretty white and pink panties, peeking out from under her skirt. Frozen, he stared at her slim hips and thighs, and the soft white cotton covering her little pussy. But only for a moment, as she dropped her hands and continued talking. Looking up in panic, he was relieved to see she was still looking away. Relieved, but suspicious…he’d never seen her this fidgety before, and in the space of a minute she had ‘accidentally’ flashed him twice. He was starting to think that she wasn’t mad after all. He was starting to think she was beginning The Dance. So, cautiously, he offered the next step.

“What do you think they do at Spring Break?” he asked, noticing her hands moving up the front of her blouse. Massaging the back of her neck, her arms brushed and squeezed against her small breasts…maybe a little more than they needed to.

“Sex. Sex, and drinking, and more sex. And he won’t be with me!” She stamped her foot and looked angry here, then dropped her hands back to pinch the hem of her dress. “And the other girls. They’ll be so hot…” she sadly added.

“Not hot enough. If he went for anyone there, he’d definitely be trading down.” He wanted to say more – but…one step at a time.

She brightened, and shifted her weight…and again brought her hands together and lifted a little, exposing herself to him. This time, she twisted her fists, and raised the front of the fabric enough to give him a good long look…bikini panties, and the pink dots were little hearts. As her skirt dropped again and he looked back up into her face, he could see that she had been watching him, too.

Dancing, closer and closer. “You make everything you wear so beautiful.”

“What? We all wear the same boring uniforms,” still nervous, still fidgeting, she smoothed her hands over the front of her too-short skirt.

“Yes. Your skirt, your blouse…” staring into her eyes and taking the plunge, he brought it out into the open; “…and your pretty panties.”

Looking back at him she blushed, but her eyes showed no shock, no surprise. Just a burning intensity and touching vulnerability as she finally asked, “Do you like my panties?”

“Yes, yes I do.” He slowly looked down to her skirt, stared for a moment, then leisurely brought his gaze up her body until it rested on her eyes again. “Do you like showing them to me?”

She paused, then gave a little nod. “Uh huh.”

“Well…why don’t you show me again?”

This time there was no chatter, no transparent attempts to pretend it wasn’t happening. As she slowly lifted her skirt, exposing herself to her teacher’s hungry gaze, her eyes never left his face. The wonder, the passion he was showing were turning her on as much as the intense situation.

And Mark was certainly turned on. Here, inches from his face, was the most beautiful female body he had ever seen. Fit gymnast’s legs sprouting out of her white socks, past her knees and reaching up to her long pale thighs, growing closer but never touching, until they were bridged by the soft white cotton of her bikini panties. White, sprinkled with tiny pink hearts…pretty tight, they showed the small bump of her mons on the bottom, and had a little bow on the elastic top. Above, her flat pelvic plate with slightly protruding hip bones could just be glimpsed below her raised skirt. He was hypnotized, he was entranced…it was like falling, just letting gravity take you.

“Cassie, you look so beautiful. They look so soft.”

Still holding up her skirt, and still staring into his face, she swallowed…and fell with him.

“You can touch them…if you want to.”

He looked up at her and smiled quickly, then dropped his gaze back to the v between her legs. Reaching across with his right hand, he slowly brought the back of his fingers towards her hips. They both watched as his hand came closer and closer to her waiting body. When the back of his curved fingers finally brushed up against the soft cotton in the middle of her lower abdomen, Cassie let out a small whimper and a tremor ran through her.

Up and down half an inch, softly brushing her panties with the back of his fingers. He could feel how soft her skin was behind the thin layer of cloth, and heard her breathing quicken as he brushed up and down, back and forth. For some reason, the fact that he was only using the back of his fingers and was not trying to curve down to her pussy made it seem almost ok.