“School Disco!”
Friday night, doors open 8.30
FREE ADMITTANCE
(Anyone wearing a school uniform.)
I read the poster, which was advertising our favourite night-club, again.
Immediately, I rang my friend, Shelly. “ We are going to have so much fun on Friday. P.J.s’, night-club, is having a special night, and we will get the chance to dress up as schoolgirls!” I shouted into the ‘phone.
We spent the next few days going through our wardrobes, and her, 15 year old, sisters’, too, looking for suitable skirts and tops. By Thursday we had decided, Shelly would wear her sister, Leanne’s, gym kit, which consisted of shorts and vest, that were at least two sizes too small, and I chose an old grey, pleated skirt, of my own, with Leanne’s shirt and tie.
As we got dressed, on the Friday night, I produced a pair of black, seamed stockings, and a suspender belt. “Janet, you tart!” Shelly shouted at me. “Too true!” I replied, grinning, and we both fell onto the bed laughing. When we had finished putting our hair, into pigtails, I looked in the mirror. She was right, I looked like a tart, wearing black patent, high healed, shoes, seamed stockings, with my black and white suspenders and red g-string, a tiny skirt (that showed my stocking tops), a tight, white shirt that was knotted underneath my, Wonderbra encased, breasts, and far too much bright, red lipstick. “Tarty, but damn sexy!” I announced. By comparison Shelly looked quite plain, but her large breasts were fighting to get out of the tiny vest, and her long legs would always attract men.
We took a taxi to the part of town were the club was. The driver adjusted his mirror so that he could get a clearer look at us, so I kept opening my legs, flashing my red knickers. When we got out, he gave us his card, telling us to use him any time, day or night free of charge.
As we queued to get in, the wind kept blowing my skirt up, much to the amusement of the guys standing next to us.
Inside, the guys at the bar parted, like the Red Sea, allowing us to be served first. They weren’t being gentlemen; they just wanted to leer at Shelly and myself. Twice, I had my skirt lifted up, so that they could see my arse, each time was greeted by a cheer. We were revelling in the attention.
The music was excellent, from the 60’s and 70’s. About thirty people had dressed as schoolboys and girls, making the atmosphere quite sexy. We had a few more drinks, danced, and got ‘chatted up’ a couple of times. We were having a fantastic time when the D.J announced that he wanted ‘sexy schoolgirls’ for a competition; the first prize was £50 and a bottle of champagne.
Shelly and I ran to the front of the small stage. Four other girls, dressed similarly, to ourselves soon joined us. Two handsome, gay boys dressed in big boots and small rubber shorts led us along the stage. Already there, was a tall man dressed in a large black cape and mortarboard. He announced himself to the audience, “I am the Headmaster, and I expect that all of my pupils behave in a manner that befits this fine establishment.” This was met with laughter, “If not, they will be dealt with, most severely, indeed!” At that moment, he threw back his cape, and produced a long bamboo cane. The crowd, at the front, mostly men, roared their approval, as he swished the cane, in their direction.
“Gentlemen, I would like you, the school council, to choose one lady, and I use the word loosely, to become Head girl,” and he swished the cane, at us. The crowd roared and clapped as we wiggled and pouted, some girls flashing their panties and cleavage.
‘The Headmaster’ lined us up, and walked along the line, stopping in front of each girl, commenting on our dress sense, size of breasts, and how pretty we were.