Telekinesis - the undoing of Mandy, Rachel and a few more besides
by Maximilian Cummings
Chapter 2
The bell for the end of the lesson rang and there was the usual rush to be first out of the door. Mandy snatched the incriminating pen up but made no movement to leave. Her desperate hope was everyone including Mr Derais would leave before she did.
In contrast to the disaster of the lesson where everything she had tried to do, from holding onto panties to controlling Mr Derais' pen, had failed, this time her plan worked perfectly. Pretending to finish making notes and tidying her things allowed everyone to leave. Even Mr Derais, with a slightly puzzled look at Mandy's unusual care, walked out before her. The door closed and she was alone. Mandy moved fast. She had Mr Derais' desk open, his pen inserted and her panties removed from it in seconds. And it was lucky she had moved fast because no sooner had she retrieved her panties and shut the desk lid than the door opened again and in walked Mr Derais. Mandy headed for the door nodding to Mr Derais as she passed. She did not look back, did not look to see if he did watch her leaving or whether he noticed the turquoise blue patch she was sure would be on the back of her skirt, a patch which could not but draw the eye given the skirt was yellow.
The next lesson was a trial. Not that anything particularly happened: just Mandy was not comfortable - not comfortable at all with the strange events of the last period. Not comfortable due to the increasingly wet patch she was sitting upon, a patch she knew would be turquoise blue. Strange because it was just not normal for your panties to go walkabout and for the teacher's pen to seek to inseminate students with its ink. Mandy sat very still and tried to listen to the lesson. It was not easy. Her mind was elsewhere.
The last lesson of the day was not any better. In fact it was worse. Once more she had the feeling of invisible hands pulling her knees apart and fingers tugging, ever so gently, at her clitoral hood, just pulling the soft flappy bit of skin forward a little and letting go. Such a gentle touch, almost not there but nonetheless she was sure the skin was being pulled forward. Perhaps it was some sort of spasm, a muscle perhaps but she did not think there was a muscle there to project the clitoral hood forward and then relax. It was irritating but mildly arousing as well. It did not feel like a muscular spasm more like fingers pulling, and pulling so close to her clit - indeed actually moving it. What was happening to her? Was she going mad?
The end of the lesson came none too soon and once again Mandy waited- waited to be the last one to leave the class so no one would see the blue wet patch at the back of her skirt. Would it look better if she brought it to the side and swivelled the skirt around her hips?
Mandy followed the last student out, so different from her normal persona of being one of the first, laughing with the girls or flirting with the boys. The others must have sensed her mood and left her be. A few half concerned looks came her way and a slightly unsettling, rather more than mere glance from Bobby Robinson as if he knew about her wet patch. There was nothing actually wrong with Bobby Robinson but from Mandy's perspective there was not a lot right either. He was quiet, timid, and not really attractive to the opposite sex. Everything Mandy was not really. Had he perhaps caught a glimpse of her presumed wet patch?
A visit to the 'ladies' confirmed Mandy's worst fears. The patch was more than obvious. It was large and a very turquoise blue. A colour of ink she knew so well. The skirt was ruined. There was no way the ink would wash out. Her sex was not its usual colour either - the turquoise blue staining remarkable. Mandy was almost paralysed with worry. How was she to get home? In a way the patch looked better at the front but then everyone would see it; at the back it at least looked like Mandy had sat in a puddle of blue ink - but that, of course, raised the question why?
The best thing would be to find something else to wear: a spare pair of shorts, a skirt left lying around - but how likely was that? The girls did not usually leave various items of useful clothing around on the lockers. A coat would have done, however odd it would be to wear a coat in the sweltering summer weather - but why would anyone leave a coat around in midsummer? She could hardly just wear her panties - still stuffed in her bag from when she had retrieved them from Mr Derais' desk.
There was nothing at the lockers and that left the changing rooms for the gym and swimming pool as a possibility. There were few students left in the college or else they were already engaged in the after school activities and that left Mandy alone. She hurried across to the gym area and slipped into the girls' changing room. It was very clean and tidy - certainly without any odd items of clothing left lying around. Mandy's plan was not working.
Outside Mandy paused and looked at the door to the boys' changing room. Did she dare check that? Of course she had never been in there but might a boy have left a pair of shorts - gym shorts - in there? There appeared to be no-one around. A quick peek was worth the risk. Mandy pushed and slipped inside. There was no one there. There was no reason for anyone to be there. There really had been no risk at all of walking in one or many of her male classmates naked and getting dressed from their showers, all turning as one to look at her. Perhaps up to fifteen or seventeen penises all limply turned in her direction - an idea both interesting and shocking at the same time.
Not a naked boy but hanging from a peg there was a pair of shorts - white running shorts which would probably fit. It was not the time to consider whose they were, what boy had been inside them or how clean they were. They did not have a large turquoise blue stain on them, they would not embarrass Mandy, she could get safely home in them.
Mandy strode to the shorts, glanced around and then slipped her skirt down her thighs and put it down on a bench. Unbelievably she was standing in the boys changing rooms with nothing on below her waist. She could not really believe she was doing this. She turned and reached for the shorts but they were not there - they were gone. In panic Mandy turned again and reached for her skirt - it was gone.
Mandy's afternoon had suddenly turned from bad to really awful. In panic she looked around the room. Where were they? She was suddenly so vulnerably half naked and, worse, there was nothing else there to wear - not even a jock strap, however ludicrous she would have looked in that - nor a towel: which would have 'done.'
Footsteps - panic - a look right and left for an escape route - and in through the door walked Bobby Robinson - of all people.