I tend to dislike parent/teacher nights. The parents, if they actually bother to turn up, tend to whine a lot, explaining it's not their fault that little Johnny/Mary is a thug/tart with the intelligence of a goose and the social skills of a mongoose.
I have to gently explain that I'm there to further the kid's education in basics like reading and writing. Social behaviour is part of the parent's responsibility. Have they explained to little Johnny that he can't always get his own way by hitting people?
Of course, there are some reasonable parents who are genuinely interested in knowing how their child is progressing and what, if anything, they should do to assist their child.
Fortunately, as I've moved up to teaching the higher grades, I find a lot more of the second type of parent, mainly because the thugs and tarts have dropped out and are now terrorizing the local neighbourhood instead of the schoolyard.
This year the senior grade consists of seventeen and eighteen year olds and they know where they're going and are willing to study. Very few of their parents will bother with the parent/teacher interviews because they're not really required. Some die-hards continue to come, probably just to put that tiny bit of pressure on their child, letting him/her know that they were watching.
I actually had a couple scheduled for the night that this particular incident happened, which made the whole thing a bit. . . different, is how I'd describe it.
The last period I had I was really just discussing assignments that had recently been handed in, using some as examples of excellent work, while not specifying whose they were. Jenny was sitting in the front row, which surprised me a little. She usually chose one if the back rows. She was one of the students whose parents were coming to see me later.
Jenny was one of the older girls, eighteen, nearly nineteen, I believe. She was blonde, had a nice figure and always seemed to have a boyfriend in tow. I had no idea if she was sexually active, and it was none of my business anyway, but it wouldn't have been a shock to me if she was. She was quite intelligent and worked hard and her assignment was one of the ones I'd used as an example.
She had always struck me as polite and obedient, not really getting into much trouble. Every student has little lapses that get them into hot water, but some less than others and Jenny was one I had unconsciously flagged as safe. Not someone you had to watch like a hawk.
So I was a little taken aback when I called on her to answer a question and she spread her legs far enough apart for me to see her panties. That is, I would have seen them if she'd been wearing any. I copped a good enough look to see that she was indeed a natural blonde and that she trimmed her fur.
It wasn't just once that she flashed me, either. If I looked in her direction her legs would part. I gave her a rather cold look and did my best to ignore her. There was no way I was going to call her out for that sort of behaviour in front of the whole class.
When the final bell rang I dismissed the class and as they were scrambling to get up and go I added a message.
"Oh, Jenny. Could I see you in my office, please. I'd like to discuss your assignment with you before your parents arrive."
What could she do? She nodded and said "Yes, sir" very quickly and bolted. I hoped she didn't drop any of her books. Her skirt was short enough that if she bent to pick anything up she'd be flashing the whole school.
Whoever designed the school buildings was apparently experimenting with different ways of doing things. One result of this was that instead of having a communal teacher's room we all had our own little offices tucked away in various corners of the building. It seemed to me that every time the architect had a bit of spare space he made it a teacher's office. The teachers had to spend half their time running around to different offices to talk to each other. One and all, we condemned the architect as a jackass. The only advantage of the disbursed offices was that some of them gave the lucky occupant a good deal of privacy. Mine was one of those. During breaks and after school my little office was in the equivalent of Siberia. No-one went there unless they had to.
Jenny had to. I'd barely gotten settled at my desk and she was tapping at the door. I called on her to enter and she came in and stood nervously in front of my desk. I didn't invite her to sit.
I glowered at her for a moment, watching her start to blush.
"Tell me Jenny," I said to her. "Do you know what social mores are?"
"Ah, it's the way people in a society interact with each other," she mumbled.
"Close enough. Now tell me, do the current social mores include young women showing of their privates in public in an attempt to initiate sexual intercourse?"
Her face blazed.
"I wasn't trying to get you to have sex with me," she gasped, apparently deeply shocked at the idea.
"Really? You could have fooled me. What other reason could you have for spending your time in class showing off your pussy? Pardon me if I seem a little crude, but so was your behaviour."
"It wasn't deliberate," she muttered, not looking at me. "I just forgot I wasn't wearing any panties, that was all."
"Ah, I see. And dare I ask why you weren't wearing any panties?"
"Um, I had an accident during the lunch break and they got torn and I didn't have a spare pair with me."
"And didn't bother going to the Head Mistress and telling her of your predicament so she could get you a pair, of which she keeps a stock available. Let's see - panties torn in an accident."
I opened the folder that I had in front of me and ran my hand down the list.
"Excuse number seven - tore my panties in an accident. Not very original, you know. The best one is number one, a bee stung me on my privates and it hurt too much to wear panties. I will say that the girl who had her panties ripped off by a dog that then ate them had quite a good story, too.
I'd probably be willing to believe your excuse a little more if you'd only flashed me once, not that I would have noticed if you'd been sitting in your normal seat."
I shut up and regarded Jenny, letting the silence work for me. Jenny was looking everywhere but at me, apparently not knowing what to say. Finally she blurted it out.
"It was a bet. I lost a bet and as a penalty I had to flash you in class."
"It was a bet is on the list of excuses, too. It's the most common and probably the most truthful. Lift up the front of your dress."
"Lift up my dress?"
I nodded.
"Why do I have to lift up my dress?"
"Because I want to see if you had the common sense to put your panties on before coming to see me or whether you left them off thinking I'd fall for your story. I can't believe you if you say you have or haven't, so lift it and show me, now."
A sloth would move faster than Jenny lifting her dress, to reveal that she hadn't bothered putting her panties back on. I had a much closer view this time, and it was quite charming. Before I could speak, my phone rang and I answered it.
It was the office. Jenny's parents had turned up for the parent/teacher interview.
"Can you give my apologies and tell them I'll be with them as soon as possible. I'm discussing something with a student right now and it's taking a little longer than I anticipated. Give them some coffee and kindness and I'll hurry things along here."
Jenny was still standing there with her dress lifted, face burning.
"I see. You decided to try to bluff it out. Silly of you, wasn't it? You do realize that I can't let this sort of behaviour pass unpunished, don't you."
She nodded. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "If you were younger I'd know how to deal with you, but at your age?" I shook my head. "I'll have to discuss it with your parents, I suppose. They've just arrived for their parent/teacher interview."
Jenny was horrified.
"You can't tell them," she gasped. "They'll be furious. I'll be grounded for months. Provided my dad doesn't kill me first. You just can't tell them."
"Really? Then what do you suggest I do?"
Jenny looked around, a hunted expression on her face. Then an idea struck.
"You said if I was younger you'd know how to deal with it. Why can't you deal with me in the same way?"
"Because a younger girl I could put over my knee and spank some sense into her," I said. "I can't do that with you."
"Uh, if I agreed to it you could," Jenny muttered, looking at the floor.
I sighed and, getting off my chair, I walked around to stand next to her. She was still clutching her skirt, apparently not realising she was still showing everything she had.
"A younger girl has certain legal protection that you don't have," I explained. "You're eighteen and, as far as a man is concerned, this is fair game."
On the word 'this' I reached down and cupped her mound. Her mouth and eyes all popped wide open. I continued.
"Now while it is one thing to spank you on the bottom," reaching around with my other hand to slip it under her dress and start rubbing her bottom, "it would be quite another thing for me to start paddling you here," gently massaging her mound while her face glowed and she spluttered.
Jenny finally came out of her shock and started pushing my hands away, probably relieved when they moved easily.
"But you wouldn't," she said quickly. "You'd just spank me, and I can put up with that. I'm willing to trust you."
"Then trust me when I tell you this. If you were to bend over the desk to be spanked I would molest you and ravish you. The only thing that would save you from being raped would be for you to give your consent, and even then my cock would probably be deep inside you before you finished saying yes."
"You wouldn't, would you? You're a teacher. You don't do things like that."
"Jenny, where you're concerned I'm prepared to make an exception. So unless you're sexually active and willing to broaden your experience you'd better think of something else."
She was stubborn. Naïve, granted, but stubborn.
"What about if you put me across your knee to spank me? Then you couldn't rape me."
