Leslie organised the meeting with Stuart, Lewis and the school. Deeming it a 'matter of importance' their principal had made time the following day for a discussion. Leslie, however, was to be the only parent to attend. Stuart had declined to have either of his join and Leslie agreed to this. Leslie had complained to the school previously but this was to be the first face-to-face meeting she would have on the matter. She felt her familiar dual-feeling of guilt and lust as Wednesday afternoon approached.
In the morning, she had chosen the work outfit that comprised of her tightest blazer and shortest skirt. She almost never wore it, having deemed it a bit too daring for work, so she didn't even try to kid herself that it wasn't for Stuart's benefit. With black tights, flat shoes and a blouse done up to the second to top button it didn't stick out as the most flirtatious outfit at her office but for her meeting at the school, or more specifically for her meeting with Stuart, she chose to make some alterations. The tights and the blouse came off and the flats were swapped for four inch black heels. She hadn't worn underwear either. She had definitely fulfilled her promise to Stuart.
As she ascended the stone steps to the main door of the school a gust of cold October wind swept the hem of her loose grey skirt from the middle of her thigh, where it normally rested, to just above the bare folds of flesh that delineated the bottom of her butt-cheeks and top of her legs. Despite the fact that it was her bum that was most at risk of being flashed to the school car-park, her hands went straight to the front of her skirt anticipating the risk of visibly exposing her naked pubis, especially since she was aroused and wet she was hyper-aware of the cool breeze licking her lower set of lips. Her deep cleavage also allowed a healthy air flow to enter her blazer and tickle her nipples, raising them so that two points were just visible against the light fabric. She was in the process of turning round to change back into her more decent clothes when the main door opened and Lewis's face poked out.
"Mum? What are you doing here?" He asked, eyebrow raised.
She stepped inside, allowing the heavy door to shut behind her, its wake just threatening to billow her skirt a little too high for comfort. She responded as they walked towards an arrow pointing to a number of names, of which 'Principal Karen Bullock' was one, "For the meeting today. I maybe should have said I was coming too, but I thought you'd just complain and maybe find a reason to avoid it."
"Mum! I can't believe you'd just hide that. Do you have to come?"
"Yes." She said firmly, leaving no room for discussion.
With an impotent frown on his face he looked her up and down and asked, "Where did your blouse go? Did you change?"
"Uh... Spilt something on it at lunch. Didn't want to make a bad impression with the head teacher." She wasn't sure if it was paranoia or not, but the expression on Lewis's face seemed to say, 'yeah because an almost bare chest is definitely a better impression than a spot of tomato sauce'.
Leslie knocked on the heavy oak door labelled 'Karen Bullock'. She felt a little nervous at how the principal may judge her choice of attire to come to a meeting at the school but she was more excited to see Stuart's reaction. Enough, it seemed, that she could feel a drop of her own juices make a trail down her inner right thigh. She couldn't think the last time she became so wet without physically being touched there. As the door opened, she felt a second drip roll down her leg and she became paranoid that it would be visible to Lewis or Bullock.
Bullock looked like a woman in charge. She wore a crisp suit - trousers not a skirt - and heels that were clearly there to add height and not there for sex appeal. Her hair was jet black and in a bun. The one detraction from her otherwise severe appearance was a welcoming smile that Leslie was sure was a trait developed from working with kids and their parents for so long. Leslie gauged that Bullock was probably her age but the women contrasted quite noticeably; Bullock was on the lower end of overweight, she had some wrinkles round her eyes and the only skin on show was her hands and face; Leslie was as trim as non-Hollywood A-lister in their 40s could hope to be, her thick hair flowed like a Pantene advert and, in terms of flaunting skin, she was definitely breaking the old unwritten rule of women's fashion that said boobs or legs, never both.
Clearly Bullock had noticed this too because Leslie could see Bullock give her a flash of disapproval before her professional façade restored itself. She invited them and her heart leapt when she saw her new lover already waiting for them. He momentarily wore the same smug expression that made her slap him last time they were together. She felt like slapping him again but she also took his look to be silent approval, something that made her reluctantly satisfied.
"Sorry about the mess," apologised Bullock, snapping Leslie back to the real world. She looked round the office and there were boxes in the corner, books piled on the desk and a disassembled table against a wall. Bullock continued, "We're redoing the meeting room, which is where most of this clutter has come from, so I can't even take us there. It's rather annoying they've stuck the table in here but not any of the chairs."
Not including the desk chair behind Bullock's desk, there were three seats available. Two were normal wood chairs but the third was a rather fancy leather wingback arm chair. Stuart was already sitting in one of the normal chairs, which was right in front of the right side of Bullock's desk. Leslie went for the other one, which was to the left of Stuart. She sat down as close to her lover as she thought could seem natural for the nature of the meeting. Lewis followed by going to the armchair, which sat in the corner of the room next to Bullock's desk, facing into the room. He started trying to shift the chair but clearly struggled under the weight.
"That's alright bud, I'll give you a hand," said Stuart. Lewis flashed him a dirty look. With relative ease, he swung the chair round so it was a metre to the right of Stuart's, facing Bullock. Leslie knew he did it to show off. She felt the heat between her legs increase.
All four were sat down. Leslie looked over to her son but she couldn't see his expression as his face was hidden behind the wings of the seat. She sat up tall in order to have a clear view of Bullock over the books that sat across the front of the desk. Bullock started with the party line all schools have, 'we don't tolerate bullying'. She then stated that she also wanted to be fair and needed to understand if this really was bullying.
"Mrs Watkins, you called this... discussion, so I think it best you explain how you see the situation."
"Well, I..." Leslie paused to gasp, barely audibly. Stuart was running his hand over Leslie's right thigh. She had her legs crossed and her right leg was over her left hiking her skirt up and giving Stuart a lot of skin to play with. She casually looked at the other two and assessed that they couldn't see what was going on and almost instantly continued so as not to arouse suspicion, "I've seen my son come home with bruises or complain about strong...," she paused again. Stuart's hand was touching the hem of her skirt.
She hadn't stopped him so far because she thought that would have drawn attention to what was going on. He had turned his arm at the elbow to minimise how obvious it would look to Bullock, who could only see his shoulders, but if he slipped his hand up her skirt it would no longer be discreet. Leslie, knowing this would appear to be an invitation, not that she could entirely say it wasn't if she was being completely honest, uncrossed her legs spread them just far enough that it allowed Stuart entry without significantly altering her posture.
"...verbal abuse," she continued. She felt her skirt ride up, pushed by Stuart's hand, and it made her nervous but neither of the other two seemed to notice; she still couldn't even see Lewis.
"Each time it comes from Stuart and I don't see him being adequately punished," Leslie finished. She felt a pang of guilt, which was now becoming normal to her, but it was different this time. This time she felt guilty because she felt like she was betraying Stuart. There was a not insignificant part of her that wanted to call off this meeting and just let him have her then and there. She put those feelings one side and focused on the task at hand; sternly dealing with Stuart. The boy whose hand was brushing her labia.
"Stuart? How do you feel about this?" asked Bullock, seemingly unaware that Stuart had found Leslie's clit. Leslie was aware though; she was concentrating hard on breathing normally.
"Well, Mrs Bullock," started Stuart. He immobilised his arm and started moving just his middle finger laterally across Leslie's button before continuing, "And Lewis and Mrs Watkins..."
'Mrs Watkins,' repeated Leslie in her head; it really emphasised where she was and what she was doing was so wrong. So taboo. She instinctively rotated her hips slightly forward and was barely able to catch a moan when she felt Stuart's finger connect with her clit.
