The Short Skirt Ch 01

Everyone in this story is an adult. Trusted teachers and administrators fan the flames of exhibitionist thrill. The story explores the excitement of reluctant public nudity, borders on non-consent exploitation, and is long.

This is fiction and the author does not condone the events depicted.

~~~~~

"Miss Jennings, please come to the front of the class."

Little Anna turned around. Who me? She reluctantly arose from her desk and approached the teacher. What could this be about?

Mrs. Kant, the most fearsome home room teacher in the 12th grade, gripped Anna by the shoulders. "Stand upright young lady."

The instructor walked slowly around to inspect the innocent student. She paused long enough to flip one of the gaudy dangling earrings that were a birthday gift from Anna's big brother.

"Class! Bring your attention to front."

The handful of quiet conversations ended as heads turned and all eyes focused on unfolding drama.

The teacher sighed dramatically. "Every year, somebody attempts to take advantage of the dress code. I never agreed with the relaxed uniform guidelines, and this policy of letting seniors have 'out of uniform' days degrades the decorum of this institution. This young lady," the exasperated matron gestured up and down Anna's body, "has clearly not remembered the guidelines for skirt length."

Anna was so excited choosing her outfit for the first warm spring day of senior year. Eleven and a half years of wearing hideous plaid uniforms and heavy patent leather shoes were finally behind her. Policy permitted seniors out of uniform during the second half of their final year. The long winter chill meant Anna selected slacks or long skirts with sweaters, but the weather finally changed.

Anna's white skirt extended to mid thigh, but it had a pleat and a flare. It was easy to misestimate the position of the hem based on the viewing angle. She took care when she bought it last summer. All her friends agreed it would be acceptable, but her long slender thighs naturally drew the eye upward.

"I hope you aren't the common street walker you appear to be. What could have been running through your pretty little head, Miss Jennings?" The teacher's glance moved from the class to her cowed student and back several times as if appraising the overall reaction to her question.

Anna slumped and pressed the hem of her skirt to her legs in self defense. It wasn't too short. She was sure.

Mrs. Kant's face twised into a grimace, and she practically spat. "Go straight to Mr. Marshal's office. You'll be lucky if he doesn't send you home with a detention." The teacher held the door open just as the morning announcements started on the classroom public address speaker.

~~~~~

Anna sat demurely on the hard plastic chair in the private waiting area outside the Principal's office. She kept her legs together and tugged the hem lower. An acute sensation of the boundary between shear panties and cold plastic forced awareness of her thighs and bottom. The back of the skirt unavoidably rode up when she sat.

Mr. Marshal finally opened his door and ushered her in. "What is the problem Miss Jennings?"

"I'm sorry sir. Mrs. Kant told me to come to you because my skirt is too short for the casual dress code, but sir, it's not. It covers to mid thigh!"

"Let me see," he directed. Then he walked slowly around her in a reenactment of Mrs. Kant's inspection. "This is a prestigious school that teaches young adults to act with decorum at all times. Parents entrust us. What would the parents' committee think if they came to visit today? Would they approve of your skirt?"

"I think so sir," she hoped.

"I'm not so sure. This is a borderline case. I can't send you back to Mrs. Kant without some remedy." He crouched to level his eyes with her waist as he tried to estimate the position of the hem on her thighs. "You do appear to be adequately covered, but Mrs. Kant may have seen something I haven't. Walk over towards the wall and bend over to touch your toes. If you remain covered, I'll let it go this time."

Anna prayed silently. Her nerves tingled with anxiety, but she obeyed the command. As she bent, she detected stray zephyrs from the Principal's open window. A sensual caress of air high between her legs alarmed the student. Anna dreaded the Principal's certain verdict.

"Indeed Miss Jennings! I can see half of your derriere. This is most inappropriate. Have you no modesty befitting a lady?"

Anna stood upright, and a blush spread down her cheeks and neck. The flush reached all the way to the slight rise of her heaving breasts as she hyperventilated in shame. A pink blouse - unbuttoned to a point above her heart - revealed a silky camisole beneath.

He stared at her as if considering what to do. "Are you wearing a bra, Miss Jennings?"

Her hands involuntarily shielded the rise of her breasts from his penetrating eyes. She shook her head, "No sir."

"Why not?"

"I'm very small sir, and I don't need one except in gym class." She hunched ashamed and embarrassed.

"What am I going to do with you, Miss Jennings? Do you want me to call your parents to take you home for dress code violation?"

"No sir. My parents work in the city. It would take hours out of their busy day. They might not be able to get away from clients. It would be unbelievably bad! Don't do that sir, please." A tear formed in the corner of her eye.

"Well, what else can I do? I can't have you bend over like that in the hallway. I'm not running a peep show!"

"I won't. I promise!"

"What if you forget to keep your legs together? What if you trip and fall? What about the poor student who unwittingly follows you up the stairs between classes? Do you take me for a fool, Miss Jennings? Even if I catch you flaunting yourself, you will just say it was an accident or you didn't know people could see. I think you wore that skirt because you want people to see."

"No sir." The tear ran down her cheek. "I don't want anybody to see. I swear. It would be so embarrassing. Can't I just spend the day in detention? I'll sit outside your office all day."

"Those are good ideas, but I don't think you would learn anything that way. I see no reason for you to miss an entire day of study. More importantly, you need a lesson about propriety in dress that you will never forget."

Anna stood shivering with dread. She appeared delightfully submissive, but inside she was starting to boil with complaints of injustice. A long moment passed while student and Principal appraised each other. Finally, she vented, "I really think I'm capable of keeping myself concealed. I know to keep my legs together, and frankly, boys have been trying to see up my skirt on the stairs since forever. I think I can avoid that too."

"Is that so? Well, I'm glad you are so confident. I'll make you a deal: You slip off your panties right now. You can collect them from me at the final bell. I think that will ensure you go the entire day with keen awareness of potential exposure. Will you make the deal?"

All of her confidence fled. Nobody ever talked to her like that before. She couldn't take her panties off. She especially couldn't do it right here in front of the Principal. Anna stared at her feet and shook her head, "No."

"You disappoint me. I thought I detected the kind of confident assurance that might have saved you, but I see no alternative except to call your parents. I'll just get the numbers from the front office."

"Sir! No sir. Please don't. I'll do it. Here, wait!"

Mr. Marshal stood with his hand on the doorknob and his eyes riveted on the young lady before him. She wriggled and squatted to pull thin material from between her legs. She rolled the tiny pink garment down her calves and over bobby socks. With her bent like that, his attention followed an inviting path down her camisole where it gaped. He found the tantalizing glimpse distracting enough to not even notice her kicking the panties off.

"Here sir. Take them." She stood and thrust the wad at him. Her thin arms trembled.

Beholding the absurd scene, he became embarrassed. He never in his life accepted warm panties fresh from a student in his care. How had things gone so far? He plotted this course, so he made exaggerated motions to accept her offering. A brisk walk to his desk halted as he subconsciously rolled the silky material between his fingers. "I will lock them in my desk drawer," he pointed. "Do not forget to collect them at the end of the day."

"Yes sir."

"Now go. The first bell is about to ring. You might as well head straight to your first class. I'll send a note to Mrs. Kant and let her know I have dealt with the situation. Don't disappoint me any further Miss Jennings."

Anna backed out of the office fully aware of the challenge before her. When she dressed in the morning, her only thoughts had been about how cute she looked and anticipation of appreciation she would get from boys. Now, she dreaded "looks."

~~~~~

The bell rang when Anna was half way to her locker. Every door along the hall opened and students streamed out. The corridor became packed. Shouldering her way through the crowd, she felt her skirt swishing. People brushed against her. Tom Lloyd gave her a smile and a wink that would have thrilled her on another day, but she looked down and turned away.

Lockers stacked along the walls granted some students uppers, and others, like Anna, had lowers. She knelt to enter her combination, but it suddenly fled her mind. She was dumbfounded holding the lock in her palm. What was the matter with her? She waited, heart racing, and leaned back so her bottom rested on the heels of her shoes. It was a strange sensation on flesh unaccustomed to touch.

"Why can't I remember my combination? I'm losing my mind," she thought with desperation. It was the worst day of her life. It was worse than getting her first period years ago while on a school field trip. She tried to hide the stain on the back of her uniform skirt and dreaded discovering she leaked all the way through to the bus seat. Worst of all, the chaperone made her beg a pad from her worst enemy, Amanda.

Tom already had his books and walked over to find out what was bothering Anna. He stood behind her waiting for her to notice his presence. She seemed deep in concentration. Somebody walking past jostled him, and his unintended half step forward landed on the hem of her skirt just as she began to rise.

The elastic material slid down her hip exposing half a milky white globe before the hem pulled free of his shoe. Anna startled and quickly adjusted, but Tom would never un-see the sensual curve of flesh. Imprinted memory would remain in his fantasies for decades, he was sure.

"Tom!" Her eyes shot daggers. "How could you!" It wasn't a question.

"I'm sorry!" His hands flew up in defense. "Someone pushed me just as you were standing."

"Go way - jerk!" She shoved at him, but he was already backing. It was not the right time to ask her.

The crowds thinned as everyone found their way to class, but Anna still didn't have her books. She knelt again, and her hands dialed the combination through force of habit more than anything. Grabbing her homework and biology text as quickly as possible, she slammed the locker and ran down the hall. It was a quick trip up the stairs. Nobody lingered behind her to see the skirt flip and flare with every lunge. Anna slipped through the door just as the teacher closed it.

"I'm glad you joined us, Miss Jennings. Please take your seat."

Biology used high lab benches with sinks and gas lines for bunsen burners. Students sat on stools similar to bar stools. Anna very carefully smoothed her skirt under her buns as she sat, and she kept her thighs tightly together. She had to sit half off the stool to confirm she remained covered.

Class proceeded as normal. Some of the boys at the table behind her whispered and laughed, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. When the bell finally rang, Anna jumped from her stool, took one step, and tripped over Amanda's bag.

Other students gathered around where she splayed on the floor. Was everything Mr. Marshal said fated to happen? Boys behind marveled at the sight of her feminine cleft until she scrambled from the floor. Anna wanted to just die, and she didn't even know the explicit extent of her exposure.

Whispering started. Soon everybody in class knew Anna wasn't wearing any panties under that short skirt. The worst day ever was about to take another dive.

~~~~~

By the bell after the second class, heads turned everywhere she went. Thank goodness she hadn't needed to use the stairs since the morning. It seemed like people brushed her even more than usual in the throng between classes. Someone even flipped the back of her skirt, but when Anna turned, it was impossible to tell who did it. She ran to the girl's room pushing people out of the way. She almost couldn't hold it together until she slammed the stall door shut and started to sob.

Why was everyone being so mean to her? Why did it have to be Amanda who saw her humiliation? What had they seen? How could she ever live this down? Would any decent boy ask her to Prom after this? Probably only the lechers with hotel room keys and dirty minds would ask her now. The skirt was supposed to be cute. She wanted some attention from the boys for a change. They all lusted for Amanda with her huge boobs and hardly noticed little Anna.

The bell rang while tears continued to flow. Great, now she was late to class on top of everything. At least the next class was Creative Writing. The teacher, Mr. Mortar, was the coolest teacher in the school. He probably wouldn't give her detention for being late.

~~~~~

It took Anna a few minutes to pull herself together in the bathroom and get as presentable as possible after the crying jag. She didn't exactly run to class either because once you're late, how much worse is later?

At the sound of the door opening, Mr. Mortar turned from the white board where he was concentrating on writing a detailed plot outline. "My goodness Anna, I missed your smiling face in the front row when the bell rang - what, ten minutes ago?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Mortar. I'm having a difficult day. I wouldn't mind talking with you about it later, if you have time." Anna knew that offering to confide might trigger his empathy and delay any snap judgement to punishment. Now, he had to wait and hear her before he could pass sentence, or he would seem to be a heel.

He looked exasperated as if he guessed her manipulation, but the sparkle returned to his eyes quickly. He loved his job, and he hated punishing students anyway.

"Well, now that you're here, you can help me with my least favorite chore. I was just writing this plot outline for the next assignment, and you can take over." He handed a sheet of paper covered in small print. "Just continue where I left off. Try to fit it all on the board, and leave some space at the bottom for elaborations."

Anna sighed. Lately, the class practiced writing stories to fit particular famous plots and conflicts. The prior week was all about "Self Sacrifice for an Ideal." The creative element involved inventing your a unique hero and setting while revealing the 'ideal' and the the 'sacrifice' through narrative and dialog. Anna received a 'B' for her story about a girl who sells her beautiful long hair to buy Christmas presents for a poor neighbor's children.

Mr. Mortar became distracted by a side discussion with some students who wanted to explore plots about crimes of passion. Anna attempted to continue the writing where the teacher stopped, but she immediately feared stretching so far to reach the top of the board would make her skirt ride up. Mr. Mortar stood at least six feet tall and had an eight inch advantage on the girl.

Fortunately, a spare chair was readily available. In that class, students often sat beside the mentor at his desk for one on one consultations. Anna quietly dragged the chair a few feet, and used it as a step stool. She was fairly certain the students in the front row wouldn't be able to see too much of her legs.

With her back to the class, see didn't observe the boys conspiring. There was a clatter as books, papers, and pens struck the floor. Suddenly, four boys scurried to clean the "accidental" mess. Why were they so clumsy?

Mr. Mortar glanced in their direction, but he chose not to comment. Anna, of course, surmised their intention. She promptly hopped down from the chair and clamped her legs together. They weren't going to get their peek that easily, but the way her skirt formed a parachute while she descended raised a few pulses.

The boys craned their necks as they crawled. Anna relished their disappointment. Put one in the "win" column for the girl whose skirt is long enough.

As soon as the boys returned to their desks, she remounted the chair and resumed writing. The teacher returned to the topic at the moment Anna finished.

Before she could clamber off the chair and claim her own desk, he said, "OK class, let's brainstorm some ideas for the this 'Sacrifice for Passion' plot. Anna, you stay there to write the ideas. Use a different color pen."

One of the more extroverted and dramatic boys, Kyle, suddenly stood from his front row desk and recited, "Oh Romeo's dagger, this is thy sheath," as he mimed stabbing himself. "There, rest, and let me die." He fell to the floor conveniently facing up, and his eyes were not closed.

Anna turned to face the class when the disruption started. She bent forward at the waist and pressed the hem of the skirt to her thighs with both hands to foil this new ruse. She couldn't stop herself from blushing though. Kyle was one of the boys she considered worthy to escort her to Prom. She might have to reconsider.

"Very nice Kyle! I'm glad you remember some Shakespeare. Juliet does sacrifice all in a moment of passion, but I don't think it is the main plot. Do you?"

Kyle reluctantly ascended from the floor. "No sir. You used it as the example of 'Obstacles to Love' at the start of the term."

"Very good! I think you do have a point though. All of the tragic side effects of the forbidden love are sacrifices for passion - of a sort." Mr. Mortar always said something complimentary right after he corrected a student.

A somewhat less clever boy jumped out from his desk. "Don't let go, Rose. Don't let me slip away into this icy water." He groped both of Anna's hands turning her sideways to the class as he sank to is knees miming the scene in "Titanic" where Jack is lost.

The action forced Anna to bend far over from her waist and almost pulled her off the chair where she stood. Mr. Mortar looked intrigued by the sudden dramatics his lesson inspired. He was just about to praise the student for tying Jack's sacrifice to save Rose into the day's theme, when it dawned on him that the boys had ulterior motives. The view he beheld was almost as revealing as the morning's toe touch incident in the Principal's office, except this time, there were no panties.

His first conscious thought shamed him: "The carpet does match the curtains." He wondered for the last few years if Anna's transition from strawberry blonde to full ginger might have been cosmetically enhanced.

"OK. That's enough! Mr Mortar bounded to the front with a couple of long strides and pulled the inspired voyeur up from the floor. The side of the class that witnessed the exposure sat stunned with mouths agape. The other students who hadn't heard the rumors wondered what the sudden commotion was all about. Unfortunately, the boy hadn't released Anna's hands and pulled her from her perch where she stumbled and fell into her teacher.

Mr. Mortar released the boy and embraced Anna to control her fall. In the moment, one of his hands clasped her on the upper thigh. As she descended, his hand slid until he found himself firmly gripping a pert young ass. The unintentional grasp lingered perhaps a fraction too long. He blushed as much as her.