Violet arrived to class a few minutes late, and only slightly flushed. She'd run from the dorm but her years of track and field had left her unusually fit, and she had hardly broken a sweat over the few hundred yards she'd covered. She'd developed just the slightest sheen to her skin, and her breasts heaved rhythmically as her heart rate slowed. Her legs were lean and sleek, and her uniform skirt covered little of them. She was popular, and the popular girls all found ways to tweak the uniform to be far more revealing and suggestive than intended.
"Sit down," said her teacher. Alex Mikkelsen was a strict and hawkish man, a disciplinarian who perhaps owed his harshness to the self-discipline he'd been forced to acquire in order to handle teaching girls in their final year of private school. It was a brutal trial for Mikkelsen. The girls were mostly eighteen, a few nineteen. They'd been isolated from most of society there at the academy and their hormones were running out of control. Virtually all were relatively wealthy; their skin glowed from the clean diet they were given at the school, their parents' dental plans ensuring a beautiful symmetry down to the last detail. Mikkelsen resented them, and resented his position there at the school.
Jennifer watched Violet enter the room with interest. She was exactly Jennifer's type: blonde, tall, a faint tan. An athlete, but with breasts Jennifer would kill to look at uncovered.
Jennifer had known she was exclusively interested in women for as long as she could remember, and she'd been hiding it the entire time. No one had ever suggested to her that there was something wrong with being a lesbian - in fact, she'd heard countless stories about girls messing around at parties, and in the dorms. She'd always held back, though, fearing that by acting on her desires, even in an environment that would accept it, she'd be discovered as different, and be rejected. She'd been holding it in for years. Violet made it hard to stay quiet, though.
Unfortunately for Jennifer - or perhaps fortunately, because Jennifer was still trying to stay in the closet - Violet had never been rumored to show even the slightest interest in girls. Besides which, Jennifer reasoned, even if she did chose a girl to experiment with, it would have to be another star, another one of the most popular and perfect girls. Not that Jennifer was unattractive. In fact, she was very beautiful, although her shorter, jet black hair and less overtly sexualized style of dress combined with her quiet personality to leave her out of the spotlight entirely. Violet would be out of reach forever.
"Jennifer." Mr. Mikkelsen stood uncomfortably close to her, pronouncing her name loud and flat. She jumped in her seat, blurting her shock.
"Oh my god. Mr. Mikkelsen, you terrified me."
"What is it, exactly, at which you are staring?"
"I'm, no, nothing."
"Jennifer, I've been doing this job for a number of years. I believe this is my ninth year, in fact."
"Yes."
"Would you guess that I don't know the difference between staring at something, and staring into space?"
The class tittered.
"No."
"You were very obviously staring at something. Something was interesting you very much. But for some reason, you feel that you're not obligated to tell the truth when you're questioned."
"No. Yes! I'm telling the truth!"
Jennifer glanced for only the briefest second back at Violet. They made eye contact. Jennifer sensed an apology in Violet's expression. She shook her head faintly.
"Are you prepared to explain yourself, Jennifer?"
"I'm...no."
"Then you will be joining me after class for detention. As will Violet, the rather obvious target of your fixation."
The class was momentarily silenced by shock. Then, the other girls began to laugh quietly. Jennifer's face felt scorchingly hot. She blinked back tears, and sat through the remainder of class, humiliated.
The bell rang an hour later. Mr. Mikkelsen stood.
