A year or so ago my school had to close owing to falling rolls. I was transferred to the only vacancy in my subject at that time, which happened to be at a girls' school. Not that I minded, and I was not the only man on the staff. There were two others, but they were in their late fifties, so I tended to mix more with my own age in the staffroom, with some of the younger women teachers.
However, the end of the School Year was at hand, and Susan, one of these younger teachers, and actually the games mistress, approached me about two days before the end of term.
"Some of the sixth form girls wish to see you," she told me. "Something about a leavers' party, but they said that they would explain better when they see you."
So, during break, I knocked on the Upper Sixth form door, and was invited in. The girls still wore uniform - it was that type of school. But their interpretation of uniform could at times challenge St. Trinian's! There was a rule at this school that on reaching the age of eighteen a girl could alter her own uniform as long as it conformed to the school colours and was something like the uniform that the rest of the school had to wear. This rule was designed to assist the girls in their growing-up process, so that they were treated more like adults on reaching Upper Sixth and especially after their eighteenth birthday. All of these girls were now eighteen as it was the end of their final school year. They had actually finished all lessons for the year, and were now only paying lip-service to school, but by law had to attend until the last day.
I was greeted by a titillating display as the girls lounged around quite blatantly not caring what was on show, even in front of me - a male! Some of them were actually sitting with both feet up, heedless of the fact that their skirts had risen to allow their knickers to be on view, whilst others had unfastened their shirts to the waist in the heat, their youthful breasts hidden only by bras which could never have been part of a school uniform!
"You all wanted to see me," I began, when Zara, the Head Girl, interrupted me.
"I'm glad you have come," she said to me. "What we are planning is an end-of-term, end- of-year, end-of-school party just for the school netball team. We have already invited Miss Jennings, or rather Susan as we will be able to call her in exactly twenty-four hours, and as we shall all have our own boy-friends there she will be on her own, so to speak, and we would like to invite you to make up the numbers. And before you reply I think you should know that we have all seen how you look at her, especially when she is in her netball skirt or her swimming attire. We've noticed you mentally undressing her (and us, sometimes, but we don't mind) as if you have the hots for her."
Before I could respond to that outrageous but truthful remark, though, Zara continued, "Mind you, we used to call her Susan when she was still a pupil at this school and also a prefect and we were in the third form, and I still do whenever she comes round to our house to see my sister - they were both here together. That's when I have heard her telling Sophie how she has been teasing you by wearing her netball skirt on occasions when she didn't need to, just so that you could catch a glimpse of her knickers when she bent down! So she has the hots for you, too, in a way."
Again I was unable to speak for a second or two. These revelations were giving me cause to think. Susan knew when I was ogling her, and so did these girls! And she had been responding by deliberately flaunting her knickers!
Zara forestalled me. "So you will agree to be our guest at the end-of-school party, then?"
I nodded agreement, whereupon the other girls in the room let off a cheer.
"You won't be disappointed, sir, or should I get used to calling you Jeff?" said Cindy, the netball captain. "We won't have our school uniforms on any more, and you'll be able to see how we really can dress when we celebrate. And see how Susan dresses when she lets her hair down, too, of course."
When I got back to the staff-room Susan looked at me and asked, "Well?"
I told her what the girls had asked, and she replied that she knew, but that she had insisted on the girls asking me themselves so as to reassure me that I would not be gate crashing.
Anyway, to cut the story short, it was arranged that I would pick Susan up in my car and drive round to the hall where the party would be held. The "hall" was actually a large barn belonging to one of the girls' fathers, but it was to be spotlessly clean, Susan told me.
So, the day school finished I went home, bathed, changed into shirt and flannels, then drove round to the address Susan had given me.
It was actually a block of flats, and so I rang the bell with her name on it, and a dismembered voice told me that she would be straight down.
I hardly recognised her! Gone was the plain teacher look, and instead her hair was loose and hanging to her shoulders, her blouse somewhat transparent in spite of only having beneath it a half-cup support bra, which allowed her nipples to be on view beneath the nylon covering of her blouse. She wore an extremely brief skirt, as short as her netball skirt at school, and a pair of very high-heeled shoes. As she swung into the car beside me I was not surprised to see that the brevity of her skirt caused her lacy white panties to come into view momentarily. But she made no move to cover up, smiling broadly at me knowing that I was looking directly at her most intimate garment. Zara's words flashed through my mind as my eyes remained fixed, about how Susan used to deliberately show me her knickers under her netball skirt.
Breaking into these thoughts Susan said to me, "Do you like them, or should I change them for another pair? Or I could take them off altogether!"
I was taken aback somewhat by this forthright approach, but Susan laughed and said she had watched me trying to peep at her knickers whenever she was dressed for netball, and she had noticed how attracted I was to the groin of her swimsuit, which she always tried to tuck between her pussy lips when she knew I would be watching. She actually used the word "pussy", and again I felt a slight shock, or actually more of a thrill at hearing her use this word.
But I warned her that we were going to the girls' leaving party, and would probably have to behave ourselves.