Reba Lyon started masturbating in her grade twelve English class to relieve the boredom of her preachy, prolix teacher, Ms. Kiss. Reba slipped her finger down under her plaid school uniform skirt, inside her pink panties, and in her wet vaginal opening. She slowly slid her finger in and out, tickling her G-spot.
"In the totalitarian society of Orwell's novel, the government uses fear to control the people," Kiss told her class, students in St. Anne's Catholic Secondary School in Toronto.
Connie, an 18-year-old, plain-looking, pimple-faced classmate, noticed Reba's fingering, and took furtive glances at her from a few desks in front and to the left of Reba. Breathing heavier, she started fingering herself, too.
"In the totalitarian society of Aldous Huxley's novel, the powers that be use pleasure to manipulate the masses: a drug called 'soma' gives the people a high that serves as a mental vacation from their daily troubles; also, right from childhood, the people are subjected to hypnopaedia, subliminal messages given to them while they're sleeping to train their minds to make them grow into the kinds of people the government wants them to be. They become docile, obedient, and happily accepting of the life to which they're predestined."
One 18-year-old boy sitting next to Reba noticed what she was doing; he sent a text message to a male friend of his (the same age as him), one sitting diagonally to the right of Reba. The text message said to get video of Reba's masturbating. The second boy surreptitiously held his cell-phone, set to camera, pointing at Reba's crotch.
Reba, a pretty, petite 18-year-old with black eyes and dyed black hair, wasn't aware of anyone watching her, so she continued touching herself (had she known she was being watched, she wouldn't have cared anyway). Her labia were swollen, her clitoris rock-hard, and her vagina dripping wet. Sighing, she looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 2:10. Fuck, she thought; another forty minutes of listening to this bitch ramble on about the virtues of anarchism versus the evils of the state. Ms. Kiss, just give us an assignment and put us into groups, please. Her finger tickled her clitoris, and she could feel an orgasm coming soon. She sighed softly.
Trying to ignore the rude ignoring and undisguised boredom she was getting from her class, Ms. Kiss went on. "Fear and pleasure, powerful tools for the government to use to trick you into doing their bidding. Extreme states of fear or pleasure make the mind especially vulnerable to the power of suggestion, or mind manipulation."
The boy sitting next to Reba couldn't wait to see the video his friend was getting. I hope he's got the angle right for the camera, he thought. Still, he used his imagination as he watched her sighing and fingering herself.
Connie was enjoying herself too. Leaning her head on her hand and staring at Reba's crotch, Connie was masturbating as furiously as the object of her lesbian love was.
With a sigh not of lust but of annoyance, Kiss went on. "The media, with its twisting of the facts to serve the government's nefarious agenda, is one way they manipulate you. Another possible way could be to drug, or somehow alter the healthful effectiveness of, our food. Monsanto, protected by US government laws now, could do something like that south of the border with their 'genetically modified' food. The Conservative Party of Canada may do it here one day, too."
Reba's pussy was dripping wet; her finger was vibrating against her clit with phenomenal, tireless speed. Finally, she came in her panties, though her agape mouth and sighing seemed to Ms. Kiss to be a yawn.
"Ms. Lyon, I'm sorry, am I boring you?!" Kiss suddenly snapped at Reba, who straightened up and tried to pretend to be interested, as did Connie and those two boys. "I know you'd much rather fiddle with Facebook on your cellphones, one of many forms of media that world governments are trying to manipulate to their advantage, but what I have to say will surely affect your future. So this is important! Only stupid, superficial people waste their time pursuing pleasure; smart people look for the meaning under it all. You're a smart girl, Ms. Lyon. I suggest you listen up!"
"Yes, Ms. Kiss (my ass)," Reba said, whispering the last two words.
After class, Ms. Kiss stood in the hall by the doorway to her classroom, watching all the students pass by. She didn't notice those two boys watching and enjoying the well-recorded video close-up of Reba touching herself, but she did notice another teacher looking over at some people with suspicion in his eyes. Ms. Kiss walked over to him.
"Brent? What's wrong?" she asked. "You seem to see something worrying."
"I do," he said. "Have you ever noticed something funny about Bing's students? The female ones, I mean?"
"Oh?" she asked. "What about them?"
"They're always smiling whenever they go into Bing's classroom," Brent said. "In any other class, the girls look as bored as everyone else."
"I don't see what you mean. Look at those two girls, Connie and Mary. They're going into Mr. Broder's class, and they're not smiling."
"Anna, Mary's fat, and Connie's pimple-faced."
"So what? You mean, only his pretty female students are thrilled to take his class?"
"Seems that way."
"Reba Lyon's one of Bing's students; she's going in now, with Connie and Mary. She's one of the prettiest girls here, and she's pouting. You should've seen the attitude she was giving me a half hour ago."
"I'll bet Broder will get her smiling soon enough," Brent insisted.
"Oh, Brent, you're being paranoid."
"You're a fine one to talk, Miss conspiracy theorist, always going on about the government. Now here's Broder, a Jewish convert to Catholicism, who comes here from America to teach chemistry three years ago, not too long before our old student Winnie Smits went missing, by the way. Since when do Jews convert to Christianity much anymore? We aren't living in antisemitic turn-of-the-century Europe. And he doesn't have any recognizable Semitic features; he looks like a square-jawed WASP to me." The bell rang, three o'clock.
"Are you sure I'm more paranoid than you?" Kiss asked. "Bye, Brent. Gotta get back to class."
"Bye, Anna," Brent said, then left.
Those two boys were still enjoying the video of Reba masturbating as they went into Mr. Broder's chemistry class. Some other boys came over to take a look.
"Damn, that's hot," the boy who owned the cell-phone said as they watched Reba's finger twitching under her exposed panties, tickling her clitoris. "She always was a bad girl."
In the chemistry classroom, Broder, a man in his 50s, walked past Reba, who was talking to Connie.
"You gonna dance at 'Holly's' tonight, Reba?" Connie asked. "I can't wait to see you there again."
"Shut up, zit-face," Reba snapped. "I don't want to whole world to know."
"Sorry," Connie said, desperate for Reba's friendship.
"You blab like that again, and I'll tell everyone here you're a lez," Reba warned in whispers. "You're lucky I tolerate you at all, always going over there and seeing me. These homophobic girls would beat you up if they knew. You'd probably go missing, like Winnie. I'll bet she's six feet under...ooh! An ugly way to die."
Broder now knew: Reba was a stripper at 'Holly's', a strip joint on Yonge Street. He knew where he was going that night. He stood before his class, ready to start teaching, but for the moment he just smiled at all the pretty girls smiling back at him, as well as at the prettiest one of all--frowning Reba.
*******
Mr. Broder showed up at 'Holly's' around ten o'clock that night. He sat at the tip rail, causing Connie, also there, to sneak away and hide in the back. Ignoring the not-so-attractive older woman spreading her legs onstage, he impatiently waited for Reba. The older woman finished her floorshow and left, then the DJ played 'Dig It', an old song by Skinny Puppy.
"And now," the DJ announced, "let's give a big hand for this very sexy lady: here's...Reba."
Broder and Connie had bigger grins on their faces than all the other customers combined.
Oh, why'd you have to come here tonight, Broder? Connie wondered. I wanna see Reba up at the front; you're ruining my fun.
Reba came on the stage in a black evening gown and high heels. Her face was made up like a Goth girl: black lipstick, dark eyeshadow, thick black mascara, eyeliner, and eyebrow pencil, and white powder all over her face. She was the sexiest zombie he'd ever seen, moving sinuously all over the stage. He watched her with rapt attention, but she, apparently stoned, hadn't noticed him...yet.
She removed her dress at the end of her first song, revealing a black lace bra and thong. All the customers cheered, Broder and Connie being the loudest. It was now that Reba noticed him. Indeed, because she was high, she simply grinned and giggled at the situation, instead of feeling hugely embarrassed.
Oh God, she thought; my teacher's gonna see me naked in a minute. Hope he likes my undies.
Indeed, a minute into her second song, 'Headhunter', by Front 242, she removed her bra, revealing her small but firm breasts, with light pink areolae. He smiled at the sight of them; she giggled and waved at him.
At the end of that song, she removed her thong, revealing her soft little tuft of brown pubic hair. Again, she grinned in mild embarrassment as her teacher's eyes roamed around her naked body, admiring her soft, white skin.
Her last song began, 'Closer', by Nine Inch Nails. She wrapped a black, feathery boa around her body, in part to tease the men, but also to lessen her embarrassment before Broder. She crawled around the stage, strategically letting the boa fall between her legs when she was to let him see her secret places; though the other customers got to see her pussy and asshole, he didn't.
Connie got to see, and she was practically drooling. Oh, please Reba, she thought, let me lick you one of these nights.
The song ended, and she got off the stage, reaching for her dress. He quickly went up to her.
"Oh, please, Reba," he begged. "Don't cover your lovely body."
"But sir," she said, sitting at the side of the stage and using her arms and legs to cover her nakedness. "Haven't you seen enough?"
"No, I haven't, actually," he insisted, gently taking her by the hands and slowly bringing her to her feet. "You wouldn't let me see your vulva and anus, you naughty girl."
"Naughty?" she giggled shyly as his eyes looked up and down her body. "Showing them is what would've been naughty."
"You're high, aren't you?"
"Yeah," she said. "I'm starting to peak on ecstasy, and I smoked a joint before I went onstage. It lowers my inhibitions before stripping."
"Oh, I know all about that. Could we go into one of the VIP rooms, please?"
"Oh, OK," she said reluctantly, and they went into one. She brought a glass of vodka and orange juice with her. He sat on a couch and she, still naked, sat on a chair facing him. She put her drink on a small table to his left. "You're not gonna get me in trouble with the school for working here and doing dope, are you?"
"No, of course not. You could get me equally in trouble for lusting after you; but you won't, will you?"
"No. If you're cool with my bad girl ways, I'll be cool with you being a perv. Deal?" She put out her hand to shake his.
"Deal." He shook her hand.
A new song began, 'Anarchy In the UK', by the Sex Pistols, and she got up and started to sway her hips slowly to the music.
"Ms. Kiss would love this song," she said. "It does nothing for me."
