Dee Saves the ProgramChapter 15
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Dee Saves The ProgramChapter 25 free porn video
Yeeowwww! That water was cold!
Whirling on my assailant I showered some bystanders. Missy shrieked and twisted and capered in my stinging spray, her adorable little boobies with their raisin nipples dancing merrily. She totally lost control of her nozzle, wetting down others I missed. They didn't mind. After all, it was a hot spring day, and they had been warned. The instructions handed to each driver in line are specific: make sure all windows are tightly closed and exit your vehicle at your own risk. We will not be held responsible if you get hosed. A carwash is five dollars. The shower is free.
Even pedestrians have been known to run like kids through a lawn sprinkler. They get a freebee soaking, but there's always someone handy with a towel and a donation bucket.
Hey! One secret of our fundraising success is the fun we have! Water fights are guaranteed.
During our brief skirmish Missy and I did manage to sluice away some of the suds we were supposed to be removing from a soon-to-be-gleaming SUV. Never mind that I also caught some of my classmates as they rubbed and scrubbed.
Another reason for the popularity of Central High's Naked in School Annual Fundraising Car Wash was that we were totally naked, male and female alike, graduating seniors all. Included among us were my lunch bunch, swim team members, and sundry other luminaries. Two naked cheerleaders were out by the curb waving signs, bare breasts bouncing invitingly. Not that they were really needed -- the cheerleaders I mean. Breasts are standard equipment on cheerleaders.
We had so many vehicles backed up into the street the police were directing traffic. We didn't lack for volunteer washers, but the gas station had room for only so many hose connections and cars. You'd think after years of Naked in School Outreach people would be immune to such openly displayed charms, but the event never failed to draw a crowd. And believe it or not, in spite of our frivolity we were getting a lot of cars washed and raising a ton of money for the local chapter of the Missing and Exploited Children Foundation.
And whose bright idea was this endeavor? Central High Emeritus Luminary Matt "Mongo" Mozilla, shortly before he became "emeritus" by graduating four years ago. I'd been hoping he'd be here as a spectator or customer, but I guess his schedule at Harvard hadn't cooperated. He'd suggested it back when I was chairing the SACNISP meeting the Monday after I'd triumphantly planted of my foot on Pastor Paul's humiliated ass.
After the reading and approval of the minutes of the last meeting I'd apologized for being somewhat distracted and thanking Heather McKenzie for filling in for me.
"Your absence wouldn't have had anything to do with the Restored Temple of the Holy Redeemer Reformed Evangelical One True Church's pastor and most of its so-called Board of Elders winding up in jail would it?" Mrs. Devers asked suspiciously.
She knows me too well. Having taken lessons from her in the poker-face department I managed a wide-eyed "Why in the world would you think that?" sort of look.
"It had all the earmarks of a Dee Walker operation," Heather pointed out.
"Just sayin'," she added in response to my put-a-cork-in-it frown, quickly changing the subject. "As for my filling in for you I don't deserve much credit. We need to do some serious ass-kicking if we're ever going to accomplish anything."
She surveyed the faces around the conference table. They returned her look with a tsunami of gloom and guilt, especially Henrietta "Retta" Jones and the aforementioned Matt Mozilla, whose subcommittees were stalled over a couple of knotty issues.
"There'll be no ass-kicking," I assured them with a rap of the gavel. "We're all in this together and I haven't been much help. Let's deal with that old business first, then we've got a new problem to discuss. I've got some ideas."
"Uh oh," Mike Collins muttered. He had experience with my ideas. I ignored him.
"Retta, where do we stand on disciplining someone who messes with a Program participant?"
Retta frowned and glared through the fashionably shaped horn-rims that were all she wore. Jeez she's got great tits. "You know where I stand. I say let 'em get a taste of their own medicine. Put 'em in The Program. Some people here -- I don't want to mention any names -- don't agree."
She meant me, of course, so I trotted out my usual argument. "The Program is supposed to be a positive learning experience, not punishment. I say it can be done. We managed it with that clueless fanny pincher Wil Williams."
"But that was a special case," Samantha Keeler, our resident nitpicker, pointed out in her precise way. "You partnered that virgin soph with a horny, drop-dead gorgeous senior volleyball player. One whose -- ah -- lusty appetites are well known, I might add."
"But she was his victim," I pointed out.
"Victim?" Walter snorted. "She was no victim. She could have dismembered him. He's lucky he still had his pinching hand attached when she dragged him to the school office. Then after his weekend of being naked with her he was strutting the halls like stud of the year, though something other than his shoulder was sore, come to think of it. And she was walking bow-legged. Some punishment!"
"But he learned his lesson," I pointed out.
"Some lesson!" Mike observed.
I think he was jealous, and couldn't blame him. I would have loved a roll in the hay with that girl myself.
"So here's my idea," I went on. "If possible we continue to partner up the offender and the offended in The Program, looking for similar results. As you say, Retta, a taste of their own medicine, but delivered less vindictively and in a more personal way."
"As executioner I'm willing to try it," Mrs. Devers put in. She and I'd discussed this in our morning meeting, part of our agreement not to have secrets. "But I'm not sure it can always be manipulated it as smoothly as it was with Wil."
I looked around the table and counted the nods. Consensus would be nice, but I'd settle for a majority vote.
"What if they're the same sex?" Retta asked. Some of the worst flack she'd gotten had been from girls envious of her double Ds.
"We partner them, regardless. Though it may seem so, sex between partners is not the point of being Naked in School. The idea is to have the perp walk a mile in the victim's shoes.
"Take your experience with Tasha, for example. If you'd been partnered with her Tasha would have gotten to know you better as a person. She would have seen what it's like to be in your -- uh -- cups, the challenges you face because you're so buxom, bearing up without a bra for a week, putting up with the attention you attract. Maybe if it had been handled the way I suggest she'd have become more sympathetic instead of being resentful. Shaming is a lousy form of discipline."
That got some nods, especially from Mrs. Devers.
"If it's two guys -- well, they could learn that size isn't everything, that it's how you use what you've got that counts -- or something," I finished awkwardly, ignoring Matt's skeptical snort. I don't suppose anything will ever get rid of that testosterone fueled mine-is-bigger'n-yours locker-room competition. A closeted gay as a sophomore, during his Program week Matt had faced his own special challenges. Now a senior, still not formally out of the closet, he regularly defended gays from our small but noisy homophobic clique. As captain of the football team he commanded the respect to carry it off.
"What do we do with someone who assaults a participant because he wants to be partnered with his victim for some reason?" Max Wang asked. "Like, say, some jerk has a hard-on for some girl who doesn't like him, or just broke up with him, and he uses it as a way to get to her?"
"Ah. That's where we come in," I explained. "The Program as punishment would be exactly the wrong thing, obviously. Before Mrs. Devers comes down on anyone we interview them so we can suggest the appropriate punishment."
"Are you talking about setting up a student court again?" Samantha warned.
"No I am not. We don't have the authority to do that," I pointed out delicately. "I'm suggesting that as the Student Advisory Committee on the Naked in School Program we do have a responsibility to investigate incidents, looking for ways to improve The Program, and along the way..."
"You sound like you're running for Congress," Matt Mozilla observed wryly and Mrs. Devers let out a snort.
I let that pass. " ... and along the way we interview those involved and any witnesses, and not as a full committee. When a case comes up three of us investigate as soon as possible. It doesn't have to be the same three every time. We report to Mrs. Devers so she knows what's what before she deals discipline. In the case of a stalker we might recommend community service or detention, along with counseling, instead of Program participation.
"Of course Mrs. Devers makes the final decision," I added with a polite nod in her direction. No more dressed than any of us I took a moment to appreciate her attributes. She is buff!
"That's why I'm paid the big bucks," she observed with a shrug that jiggled her assets enticingly. I think she did that deliberately.
"Maybe you should ask for a raise," Heather suggested.
That brought a laugh and I started feeling more optimistic. I sat back to let them bat the idea around for a few minutes before asking for a motion. While Retta was still dubious the proposal was approved on trial basis for the rest of the year.
As I'd hoped, Matt jumped on the plan to also solve his problem: using The Program for punishing non-Program involved violations, like general bullying or disrespect. Some people who have already had Program experience seem look for an excuse to get naked. Some masochistic urge, maybe. If they wanted to get naked all they had to do was strip without the hassle.
We'd suggest whether putting the offender in The Program was appropriate from our perspective. It was agreed that the chances were high we'd recommend against. Even though this removed a favorite weapon from a teacher's arsenal of disciplinary choices it just wasn't right! Mrs. Devers thought the teachers would go along with us -- at least on a trial basis. They could still hand out extra assignments or detention, or take away privileges. Just the threat of a visit to Mrs. Devers's office was often enough to nip trouble in the bud.
Corporal punishment had already been taken off the table.
Though she and I hadn't actually discussed it I was pretty sure Mrs. Devers would use these procedures as examples to push her student court. Why The Powers That Be hadn't approve it for the high school since the middle school already had it was a mystery. At least we'd avoided SACNISP suddenly turning into a de facto court.
The last big issue still on the table was deciding reasonable request disputes. Those came up relatively often, particularly with freshmen early in the year. There was always some dork who wanted to test the limits. Normally the Program Coordinator would decide, but a replacement for the Worm was still mired in the bureaucratic swamp of the Federal Office of Social Awareness. Again I suggested assembling an ad hoc subcommittee to rule on the spot, based on program guidelines. That passed as well, putting more of The Program's fate in our hands, freeing Mrs. Devers from resolving those disputes.
All that had been four years ago and only that last idea hadn't worked out. It was too slow and cumbersome. Since we still didn't have a Program Coordinator Mrs. Devers was stuck with those decisions. No one in the Social Awareness chain of command wanted to take the risk of appointing another pedo. Using that incident certain Congress-critters are still trying to repeal The Program outright.
As for Mrs. Devers's Student Court the local PTB are so firmly on the fence they have pickets up their asses. They keep saying "maybe next year," but she keeps trying. The woman has the patience of a saint and the tenacity of a pit bull.
I swooshed the sponge-load of suds over the next car in line. Enjoying the memory of that meeting, and the sun on my bare back -- and other parts of me.
Then I bent over to wash a hubcap, giving the peanut gallery a moon view of my tight bottom and Wow! Some wise-ass hit me right in the butt with a big sponge that had been soaked in ice water.
That got my attention, I tell you.
When I looked around my boyfriend Lance, about twenty feet away, was, studiously polishing the outside mirror on a Mazda, looking suspiciously innocent. An open ice chest was right behind him.
Why was a South High student here? Since he and I were on track to different colleges we do all we can to be together despite our conflicting scholastic loyalties. He'd done his stint in South High School's program, of course, and was as willing a participant in my activities as I was in his, even going so far as to openly consort at swimming meets.
But getting back to that long-ago SACNISP meeting, after we'd dealt with the old business I presented our new problem.
"We've gotten rid of the Restored Temple yada yada yada..." I pointed out to the committee.
"And good riddance," Matt interrupted. "Jeez! Pedophilia, child pornography, sex trafficking..."
Wielding my gavel I ruled him out of order. When I went after the pedophiles I didn't realize I'd only grabbed a loose end. I'd pulled one tail on a ball of snakes, unraveling an extra-large-shit-soaked sweater of corruption, to mangle a metaphor beyond redemption. In addition to the sex charges the church's leadership and others, including local politicians, were accused of fraud, conspiracy to commit murder, bribery, extortion and racketeering. The state was investigating the board of assessors, the building codes office and zoning board. In addition to interstate child pornography and sex trafficking the Feds were digging into money laundering and God only knows what else. The mayor and half the city council have suddenly decided they're not running for reelection, saying they want more time with their families.
Maybe they'll be allowed conjugal visits.
Regardless, I really did not want us going there. If word got out of my involvement the next thing I'd know I'd be in the witness protection program living as Enid Guntz in Great Falls, Montana.
"That's someone else's problem," I pointed out. "Without The Restored yada yada we're still left with all these well-meaning people picketing and demonstrating. Many are deeply religious, or at least claim to be, maybe they're sincere. Most of 'em equate nudity with sex and sex with sin and see the Naked in School Program as a license to fornicate and a threat to society. They're not well-organized, so there's no one point of attack. Dealing with them is like trying to swat a swarm of mosquitoes."
"Let them demonstrate," Max suggested. "What harm can they do?"
Mrs. Devers picked up that one. "Plenty. They're pressuring the school board, city hall, and anyone else they can, even the governor, to shut The Program down. That it's a Federally mandated program only irks them more. Some people are even blaming it for what went on at the Restored Temple yada yada."
I thought Heather was going to explode. "That's -- that's like blaming the rape victim instead of the rapist!"
Matt rested a calming hand on her arm. They made a nice couple. Too bad it would never go beyond friendship, he being gay while she's still dealing with memories of The Worm.
Mrs. Devers nodded. "I agree. That's reprehensible, inexcusable, but not the real problem. The danger is that the Board of Ed or someone else might just cave in. With Washington dead in the water there's no help there. As it is other states and localities have already taken The Program to court."
"And?" Retta asked.
"And, not to get too deep in the technicalities, a local judge issues an injunction against the program. On appeal the next one up the food chain lifts it. It just ladders up from there. It'll be fought all the way up to the Supreme Court, which may take years."
"We don't want to wait for that," I put in. "If we can change the minds of enough of these people we can ease the local pressure, maybe even encourage other districts to follow our example, building enough popular support to keep The Program safe from these morons. The question is, how do we do that? Any ideas?"
"Counter demonstrations?" Mike Collins suggested, giving his thumbs a rest from taking the minutes. "We've got the numbers to put on quite a parade."
Mrs. Devers shook her head. "All counter demonstrations do is raise the noise level. People wind up yelling at each other, no one listens, and sweet reason is the first victim."
"As for a parade, Bessie's Resurrection Ride didn't exactly endear us to commuters," I reminded him.
"Don't they realize we're just kids, trying to figure out the world?" Samantha asked. "Most of us, once we've gone through The Program, appreciate what it's done for us, and most parents are more than grateful as well. If nothing else they avoid having to give 'the lecture.' The numbers on stuff like teen pregnancies prove its value."
"Nobody pays attention to numbers. We need more concrete favorable publicity," Matt suggested. "Something to counter the nay-sayers."
Wondering why I couldn't just keep my mouth shut for a change I admitted I knew a friendly reporter at the newspaper. She'd gone through the program with Carl's class and interviewed me after Bessie's ride.
"Unfortunately that's what led to my GabFest appearance," I added. I'd barely escaped with my reputation intact, such as it was, thanks to some fast footwork on Mom's and my part.
"What do you mean 'unfortunately?' That got people talking and changed a few minds," Matt pointed out.
"And thinking," Heather added. "What about another appearance?"
"Been there, done that, I am not going to do it again."
I quickly changed the subject. "It bothers me, too, that we've still got kids quaking in their socks when they're called up for The Program, especially in the freshman class. Maybe they wouldn't be so scared if they knew what it was really like. When was the last time the school paper did a story on The Program, something to take the edge off in here?"
"It's been a long time," Mrs. Devers admitted. "Now that it's well established it's old news."
"How about a regular series to un-scare them, some puff-piece like 'My Week in the Program'?" Heather mused. "I can suggest it to the editor. Maybe even a photo feature, interviews with participants at the end of their week. They could put a nice glow on it."
"That's a good idea, but be careful," I warned. "Honesty is the best policy. Make it warts and all, the good, the bad..."
" ... and the ugly," Matt finished for me.
"I beg your pardon, I resemble that remark!" Max Wang tossed out, bobbing his eyebrows up and down in his best Groucho Marx imitation. Given his ethnicity he's about as Groucho as Chairman Mao, so he always draws a laugh with it.
At least we were moving again! I was marveling how much getting something accomplished boosted morale.
So we made plans for a publicity program -- I'd take on the newspaper, Heather the broadcast media.
"Publicity is fine," Walter Miflin mused when that was done, "but we've been studying in civics how most people only read and watch stuff they already know they'll agree with. It makes 'em feel comfortable. If we want 'em to pay attention to our way of thinking we need to grab 'em by the ears."
"Maybe if we could meet them on their own turf, one-on-one, face-to-face, we'd get somewhere. Where do they congregate?" Samantha (never call her "Sam") asked.
"That's easy. Congregate is the right word," Retta Jones observed. "A lot of them are good church goers -- my church, for example. It's full of 'em, including the pastor."
"How'd they handle you being in The Program?" Max asked.
"They didn't. I wore my Sunday go to meetin' best rather than face them naked," she admitted, a bit ashamed. "And I skipped the Wednesday youth meeting."
A light went on in my head.
"How many of us have been to church at all in the last six months?" I asked, raising my own hand.
Retta raised hers, as did Heather, Samantha and Mrs. Devers -- four out of nine.
"Naked," I added, keeping my own hand up. All the others went down.
"You went to church naked?" Max Wang reacted.
I didn't want to admit that it had not been exactly willingly. Rather than go into details I said I'd gone with a friend to Mass one Sunday, that she'd dared me to be naked. Actually I'd been handcuffed to Maria. It's only a little white lie, okay? But I'd do it again.
I got to the point. "Try this on for size. We all begin going to church -- any church -- naked. I've done it. Beth Finch did it the year she was in The Program. She even did a reading and gave a little -- what do they call it? -- a homily. Nothing confrontational, just go as worshippers, respectful, polite..."
"And naked?" Retta asked dubiously.
"Naked. It's legal. If anyone asks we explain why we are naked. I know it takes guts. They'll gape, but with church attendance as low as it is the pastors may not object. We might even bring in voyeurs who don't normally go. Churches will do almost anything to get the people in to fill the pews and the collection plates. If someone does get bent out of shape just leave quietly, but show up again the next Sunday, and again, until they give in.
"Encourage your friends who're in The Program now or who have been in it to do the same thing. Take a friend along with you -- there's comfort in numbers. If you don't have a church of your own go to whatever church you want, but spread it around. We need the exposure -- pun intended."
Chuckles.
I shut up to let them talk that over for a while, until they seemed to agree to try it, even discussing who would take which church. I promised Retta I'd go with her to her church.
Go team!
You got it!
"And Outreach has fallen off, we need to revive it," I went on. "Some businesses that used to offer discounts to naked or even semi-naked customers don't anymore. I pay for my Brazilian wax jobs by getting them done in the front window of the Minute Spa..."
"Well yeah!" Retta countered. "But everyone knows you're an exhibitionist!"
"And proud of it," I admitted to the laughter. "The fact is, the salon is doing better than ever.
"Look," I went on. "Alphonse, the guy who runs the salon, told me some places that used to encourage NiSers have given into threats of a boycott. He stood up to 'em 'cause he likes me and I bring in business.
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