Lissa knew how to hem up her skirt, with her seam ripper and thread remover in hand. Everyone would just assume she was getting taller, but at 18 years old, she didn't have the remaining three years of growth that the childish boys at her school still had. She was grown, but tired of the adults always telling her how to dress. She could join the rough life of the military or drink alcohol in certain countries at her age, but she couldn't decide the length of her own skirt? It seemed absurd.
So she took matters into her hands and nobody was wiser. Sure, she'd get looks, mostly from the female teachers in their constant jealous and envy of the appeal of her youth, but they didn't dare say anything that could be misperceived. They did not want to be labeled sexist, not in these times of liberation for the younger girls' generation. Gatekeepers were not needed from their ranks anymore than before. They had men for that, because they were still in charge.
The boys of her school were so immature that when she walked up the stairs along the hill to reach the main building, they simply laughed at the view of her panties.
Such babies!
She complained to herself knowing that nobody could hear her. They were supposed to see how she took care to maintain good posture and kept the curves of her cheeks round while she consumed a good diet. She tried to exercise regularly, whether just squats in her bedroom or using the equipment at the local park. And she thought she was quite well formed, despite the snickers from the adolescents.
Of course someone mature like Mr. Richards would never take notice of someone like her. She preferred male teachers like that, who smacked the ruler down on their desks to establish authority. But Mr. Richards was too serious, always wanting to do right by the students, even if he did wield a heavy hand. Sometimes Lissa's teenage mind wandered and wondered how that hand would feel smacking her backside red, but those thoughts had to be controlled so she wouldn't get wet in the middle of his class. Especially with such a short skirt that occasionally revealed her panties.
Today they were pink, to go with the brown of the skirt. She flapped open and closed her legs unconsciously as the teacher made his way around the class, handing out papers. When he dropped off her test, she snapped it up right away. She took a sideways glance at Mr. Richard's crotch, smiling at the way his tan khakis always bunched up suggestively, before checking her test results. An 'A-'.
Phew, not so bad.
Especially for being so distracted during Mr. Richards' lessons on geography and social studies.
When the class ended and the students started to leave, Mr. Richards called Lissa before she could leave with them. His authoritative tone stopped her dead in her tracks, giving her a mix of nervousness and excitement at his firm command.
She whirled around, skirt flying, a technique she had perfected from ages in front of her bedroom mirror "Yes, Mr. Richards?" she answered as she flashed him a nervous smile. Her eyes quickly flicked to his suggestive crotch then back to his face.
"Are you getting taller, Lissa?" he asked, cheeks turning crimson ever so slightly that somebody else wouldn't even notice.
She nodded in affirmation.
"Man you kids grow so fast. Nevermind, sorry to keep you. You'll be on your way." He flicked a dismissive hand toward her, and Lissa gave him a cute little curtsy.
She thought she caught his eyes between her legs as he licked his lips, but was too quick for her to be sure of it. She turned around, letting a paper fall to the ground before deliberately bending over to pick it up. When she stood back up and looked behind her, Mr. Richards was already working at his desk. She let out an exasperated sigh and left the room.
Her next class was downstairs past the copier and near the teachers' lounge, where the teachers all thought they could gossip out of reach of the students, but everyone heard. Lissa smiled as she passed.
"I swear she's shortening her skirt on purpose!"
"Oh, Mary, don't be such a prude, you did the same thing."
A male voice chimed in, "Well it's technically not against school policy."
That last comment lightened Lissa's mood. At least some males were taking notice, even if she didn't know who it was. Even old-ass Mr. Gibbs would make her feel wanted. She bet he could even still get it up. Lissa smirked wildly at the thought and entered the classroom.
The boredom of Mr. Jones' English class quickly subsided her amusement, though. Another damn discussion when nobody had even read the frickin' book. They were all just grasping at random threads and dampening Mr. Jones' enthusiasm for the day's topic, until they were released.
"Lissa," Mr. Jones called as she was still at her desk and packing her things. "You sure look like you're in a good mood today, what's the occasion?" He watched as the few remaining students left the room and lowered his voice. "Don't let them get you down, okay? Not everybody appreciates Shakespeare, but you are giving some good contributions."
Her smile returned and she gathered up her things and left the class. She snuck a look back as she turned the corner out the door, and Mr. Jones was watching her.
She didn't delay there because it was the last period of the day, and her mind was already on some things she had to take care of back at home. Things that would give her some much-needed relief.
She made her way past the teachers lounge that had turned to a mere murmur, and up the steps to her last class, on the third floor. But she decided to stop in the bathroom on the second floor first, even though they only had five minutes in between classes. As she sat down on the toilet, she thought how unjust it was.
How are we supposed to get anything done in five minutes?! I can't even masturbate! And then they patrol the halls like fucking Nazis if we're late!
She finished up quickly and washed, heading out and now bounding up the stairs to make it there on time. As she hit the third step, the bell rang loudly.
When it finished a voice boomed loudly behind her. "Lissa, you're late! Hall authority dictates you have to come see me after class." She turned around and Mr. Richards was standing at the bottom of the stairs.
She let out a sigh and slumped her shoulders. "I know, as a witness you're the one who will charge me missed time."
"That's right, don't be late."
When she entered the classroom for the last period, the teacher was already writing on the board and didn't pay her any mind. The very reason for the school's late policy. Lissa couldn't concentrate, though. Her mind was on Mr. Richards and what he might have planned for her five minute delay. Though it wasn't quite detention, it was inconvenient.
Unless she could somehow make a little more interesting
she thought. But she sighed as she knew Mr. Richards was usually all business in these situations.
When she arrived to his room, he was still sitting at his desk working, just as she had left him earlier in the day. She knocked lightly on the door.
He looked up, perplexed at first, then seemed to realize her purpose there now. He stood up, placing his hand on a ruler on the desk, picking it up as he beckoned her over. "Lissa! I almost forgot about my duties. I wish I could just let you all get on home."
"Does that mean I'm free to go now, Mr. Richards?"
"No, rules are rules. I could get in trouble myself if I don't enforce them. Rumors would start about preferential treatment, and I'd lose my authority, respect, and control."
Lissa had honestly never thought of such things before. Her innocent smile was more from nervousness than some trick of sweetness so Mr. Richards would let her off easily. She was already disposed to any punishment he might dish out.
"So you're going to punish me, Mr. Richards? Have I been a naughty girl?" Her sex was beginning to swell; she felt flushed.
Mr. Richards cleared his throat. "Not so much like that. You just owe me five minutes. I thought we could go over a new policy the other teachers proposed. Shut the door. This is privileged information."
