Mrs Hendersons New Job Ch 02

Mrs Henderson could hardly believe what she was doing. Here she was, standing in the staff room on her first day at St Jude's, wearing nothing but her glasses and a pair of heels. The feeling of the cool morning air on her exposed skin made her tingle all over; mostly through fear, but she felt as though there was an undercurrent of excitement there as well. Surely not, though – surely she wasn't excited at the prospect of working naked?

Before she had time to complete that thought, the door opened, and in walked a woman – naked, of course. She was a petite blonde, with her hair cut in a short bob.

Mrs Henderson gasped and instinctively covered up, one hand shielding her crotch while the other covered her breasts. The woman smiled.

"No need to be shy, love – you're in the wrong job for that."

Well, Mrs Henderson thought, I suppose she does have a point. Mrs Henderson slowly, reluctantly, dropped her hands, thankful for the long hair that partially covered her breasts. There really was no point in covering up – a lot more people than just this woman were going to see her naked.

"Oh, dear, you look like a rabbit in the headlights." The woman extended a hand. "I'm Julie – welcome to St Jude's."

Mrs Henderson shook her hand, noticing as she did that Julie had completely shaved her pussy. She blushed scarlet – there was no way she could have brought herself to do that.

"Is it your first day?"

Mrs Henderson nodded. "Yeah."

Julie smiled sympathetically. "The first day's always hard, but trust me – it gets easier. I remember when I first started – I was a nervous wreck!" she laughed, her small breasts shaking slightly. "Now, I hardly even notice being naked."

"I doubt I'll ever stop noticing it," said Mrs Henderson. "But maybe I'll get used to it after I've been here for a while."

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Mrs Henderson realised she was late.

"Shit!" she said. "I've got to get to class!"

"Where's your first lesson?"

Mrs Henderson took her lesson plan from her briefcase. "Room 3A. Where's that?"

Julie pointed. "You go out this door, down the hall and up the stairs – it's the first door on your left, one floor up. "

"Thanks. I'll see you at lunch, yeah?"

"Of course!" Julie beamed. "I can't wait to get to know you."

Mrs Henderson hurried off. She half-ran down the corridor, then realised the way that running made her D-cup breasts bounce and jiggle; blushing furiously, she realised that she didn't have time to walk slowly; she would have to go on as she was. She passed a few late students (remarkably few – after all, they had every incentive to be in class on time) and it was as if she could feel their eyes on her. She rearranged her hair to make sure it covered her nipples and held her briefcase to cover her crotch, trying to preserve at least some of her modesty, but she couldn't stop her breasts from bouncing as she hurried to her classroom. As she passed by a small group of students, she heard one say to the other,

"Christ, look at that arse."

It felt as though her whole body had turned red. The embarrassment of being completely nude in front of fully-clothed young men was unbelievable. She was shaking as she reached the door to room 3A. She stopped to catch her breath and gather her courage, then opened the door and walked in.

The classroom was filled with the standard chatter that you'll find in any class, anywhere in the world, but when Mrs Henderson walked in you could have heard a pin drop. Mrs Henderson walked quickly over to the desk, and placed her briefcase on the desk in front of her, opening it so that it still covered her crotch. From this position, she reasoned, they couldn't really see all that much. She knew that they would eventually see everything, but she wanted to put off that moment for as long as possible. After she had taken the register, she turned to her lesson plan.

"Now then," she said, "today's lesson is on the Ukrainian Insurrectionary Army." She pointed to one of the students. "Mr..."

"Simenon, Miss."

"Mr Simenon – can you tell the class what the political philosophy of the Ukrainian Insurrectionary Army?"

"They were anarcho-communists, miss. They were also instrumental in the development of platformism within the anarchist tradition."

Mrs Henderson was pleasantly surprised. These students were smarter than she'd thought – she'd never have imagined that a reform school would be teaching such an advanced syllabus.

"Miss?"

It was Simenon again.

"Yes, Simenon?"

"Usually, teachers here write the topic of the lesson on the whiteboard."

There was tittering from the class. She knew what they were doing – she was the new teacher, and they were testing her out, trying to make her uncomfortable. Well, she wasn't about to let them get the best of her on her first day. She stood up and turned to the whiteboard, stepping aside from the desk so that the students got a clear, unobstructed view of her perfectly formed arse. She smiled at the collective intake of breath that this inspired. Her arse was the part of her body she was proudest of – as firm and pert as that of a woman half her age.

Ok, she thought, you've got them on the ropes – time to deliver the knockout blow.

She dropped the board pen. Amazed at the brazenness that had suddenly overtaken her, she slowly bent over to retrieve it, to a chorus of gasps and wolf whistles from the students. She straightened up, and wrote on the white board

Ukrainian Insurrectionary Army 1918-1921

She stood facing the whiteboard for a moment, her heart pounding. Earlier, she had been terrified at the prospect of working naked – and yet here she was, deliberately exhibiting herself. And, she had to admit, liking it. Finally, before sitting down, she tied her hair back in a bun and turned to face the class, for the first time giving them an uncovered full-frontal view of her unclothed body.

"Now," she said, "on with the lesson."