Author's note: All characters are eighteen or over.
Tina and I were eleven when we started at St Edwina's. Seven years on we were still friends but no longer little girls. Almost overnight we were big-boobed, leggy and curvy-arsed. Tina lost her virginity first, and mine quickly followed. Since turning eighteen we'd been pretty wild but always went our own ways when it came to sex. That changed during our last summer at the school, and a week before exams. You see, that's when the decorators were with us.
The headmaster and Miss S— were the two people we least wanted to bump into as we tottered in our strappy, wedge-heeled sandals on our way to the assembly hall that memorable morning. Everyone was in classes and the corridors had been empty until Mr B— appeared outside his office doorway. He didn't call us over, just stared. Slim and sleek in his business suit, and not usually seen about much except at morning assemblies, he was an unsettling apparition. We kept moving; I was carrying the tray of drinks, Tina the biscuits. I looked the other way while she smiled at him, the picture of innocence in her blond pigtails—and, as the boys at the college across the road knew, she was anything but innocent. Mr B— backed into his office and closed the door.
'Typical man,' she said, unperturbed. 'See him getting an eyeful?'
Understandable really, for in being ever so good in our old school uniforms we were being ever so bad. A relaxed regime for girls in their final two years at St Edwina's Girls' College, a please-yourself dress code, but within reason as we were expected to set an example to the younger ones. Tina and I had worn jeans, sweatshirts and other casual stuff like the rest of our year but the other day Wilf, one of the decorators, had wondered aloud what we looked like in school uniform. Wondering ourselves the previous evening; in my bedroom we'd giggled as we squeezed into gear we'd grown out of a couple of years back.
'This stuff's cutting off my circulation,' I complained, with the doors to the assembly hall in sight. We'd got into our uniforms in the sports hall changing room before preparing the decorators' drinks in the senior girls' common room kitchenette. Our buttoned white cotton shirts were the problem—and more for me than Tina. My boobs, large, high and round, pressed out tightly against the cotton and there wasn't much "give" left for breathing. This was the only time I've ever thought having bigger ones wasn't all about fun and games. Tina's only slightly less substantial up top, but makes up for it with the perkiest pink nipples. The plaid skirts were constricting too. And we'd cut several inches off the hems, just to help things along with the decorators you understand. A hand's width of bare flesh over the tops of Tina's thigh-high red-and-white striped socks. As for me, well my legs are long and well-shaped and don't need any help from socks or tights. I have the edge looks-wise, though valuing our friendship I never say as much.
With Mr B— out of the way, it was tough luck Miss S— coming out of the staffroom and cornering us. She's hard-faced, her grey hair in a mannish cut, not a womanly roundness on her anywhere. Our skirts were a bit on the short-side, weren't they? And where were we going with the drinks and biscuits?
'They're for the decorators,' I said, flushing a little. She gestured for us to continue, followed and waited outside as we went in. As the double doors closed behind, the guys' greetings rebounded off the high walls they'd been painting an off-white. They held their wet paint brushes like weapons, their biceps bulging. White teeth in cheesy grins. They all wore paint-stained white bib-and-brace overalls. We'd taken mugs of tea out to them the day before when they'd been having their lunches in the white van parked at the edge of the schoolyard.
'Good to see you, girls,' Wilf said. He was my favourite, the oldest at twenty-seven, and as fit as fuck. He was the gaffer, but a pretty laid-back boss, it seemed to me. He had long Jesus-hair and light stubble, brown eyes that wickedly twinkled "sex".
They laid down their brushes and sat on plastic stack chairs. Waiting to be served, they took in our legs, our plaid-clad curves. We smiled like air hostesses and bent from the waist to place tea mugs and the biscuits on a low folding table. Sustaining my deep bend, I felt gazes enter the unbuttoned top third of my white cotton shirt like guided missiles to impact on the hanging juicy fruit of my boobs. Tina stood perilously close to Piers who had virtually no choice but to see where the hem of her skirt aligned with the under-swells of her buttocks. He tucked back a strand of blond hair behind a ringed ear, an almost feminine motion in contrast to maleness of everything else about him.
'Don't they look cool, guys?' he said, his lips moist as he slurped tea.
'Cool and hot,' Markey said. I let out a giggle as Markey's tea steamed-up his designer glasses. He was darker than the others, dapper in his gear, his arms toned. Jack was the youngest and the tallest, his eyes round and baby-blue. Mesmerised by our blatant display, his mug of tea was tipping.
'You're spilling, Jack,' Wilf said, with a mock-sorrowful shake of his head.
'Shit,' Jack said, a dimple of annoyance in his cheek as he looked down at the wet patch on his crotch. We all laughed. Aftershave and an exciting sweaty musk was coming through the heady tang of fresh paint.
'Looks like you've nearly finished,' I said, with a glance at the walls.
'Like you're interested,' Wilf said with a laugh. He was so right. During previous all-too-brief encounters we'd made it clear it wasn't their brush-strokes we were interested in. We'd enjoyed liaisons with several choice specimens from the boys' school opposite, but Wilf and his crew were a different proposition. Real men, all in their twenties but for Jack, only a matter of weeks away.
The door opened and Miss S— appeared, arms folded, tight-lipped.
'We were wandering if you wanted something at lunchtime?' I kept my voice low. She was at far end of the hall but probably had bat-sensitive ears. 'Or have you brought packed lunches?' I took in the well-packed crotches of their paint-spattered work pants and they splayed their legs that bit wider.
Tina sniggered and the boys exchanged looks between them. '"Something" sounds good,' Piers murmured. Miss S— tipped up her chin sternly, said in a sing-song tone, 'Come on, girls.'
'We were thinking of going to the pub,' Wilf said, 'But we might stay here if you keep us company.'
