Dee Does High SchoolChapter 16
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Dee Does High SchoolChapter 15 free porn video
I arrived at the meet'n'greet to discover everybody else, of course, was dressed -- oh, except for Mike, who'd gotten to the meet'n'greet before me and was standing off to one side, looking lost. He and I were in our program uniforms.
Ah well, I should be used this by now.
"Oh, look! It's the Truffula tree!"
That was loud enough to draw everyone's attention to my entrance. Being tall I was accustomed to being gawked at. I tried to tell myself it didn't bother me.
Much.
As the conversation resumed around us I -- avoiding an eye-roll that would have strained a muscle -- instead, strained my principles by smiling and sticking out my hand to the Major Dumbo who had so kindly announced my arrival, barely glancing at her companion.
"Hi, I'm Dee Walker, and you are?"
Not that I didn't already know darn well who she was. Since I'd arrived at this esteemed institution, following the advice of my brilliant brother, I'd done some research. The library has an up-to-date set of yearbooks, and she'd featured prominently in them for the past three years. A senior, she was sure to be top of the charts this year, of course.
"Heather MacKenzie!" she said in a chipper tone that implied that Everyone should already know who She was. Her handshake was one of those tips-of-the-fingers ladylike grips.
Ugh.
"Please'tameetcha," I managed.
She, of course, was also the same person who had welcomed me so descriptively to the lunchroom that first day. Since then, in self defense I'd carefully scoped out her usual habitats so I could avoid them, which was no easy task. She was head of this -- Cheerleading, of course, among others -- president of that, chaired the prom committee, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. She had perfect blonde hair, courtesy of the finest salon in town, a gorgeous complexion, courtesy of a fine cosmetician and careful hygiene, perfect teeth, thanks to the best orthodontist money can buy, likewise a perfect nose, boobs and butt. I declined to speculate on whether they were naturally acquired or not.
But, regardless of what she thought, I was willing to bet that her shit still stunk.
"I hear that performance of yours in the park was really bitchin'!" she hissed with a naughty giggle.
Takes one to know one, I thought. So far she was proving to be everything I loathed, but I reserved judgment, figuring that Mrs. Devers had some good reason for picking her for the committee.
"It was fun! You should try it sometime," I parried, thinking how much I'd enjoy having her on the leash. "You'll have to excuse me, I see someone I need to talk to."
Escaping her claws I strolled over to Mike, who was looking somewhat adrift.
"Sorry I was late." I didn't add that the lateness was Carl's suggestion, to avoid standing around looking hopeless until someone else showed up.
"S'okay," he responded, cheering up a bit.
"C'mon, let's mingle," I urged. "I'm hungry!"
"You're always hungry," he teased as we descended on the refreshments. He still only came up to my earlobes, but he was slowly gaining on me.
The Kool Aid pitcher was low, but I naturally went for a cup of the ice water anyway, and a fistful of what I presumed were oatmeal raisin cookies. At least none of the raisins moved.
Mrs. Devers was gazing benignly over the gathering as Mike and I circulated, introducing ourselves. I did my best to follow Carl's advice, easily summarized as "don't talk, do listen, and catch names."
Heather Mac's chatter and tinkling laughter dominated the room. She seemed to be paired with -- what else? -- a jock, but at least it wasn't the star quarterback. That would have been too cliché. Someone else came up to her and the guy slipped away with a look of relief, so I decided to pursue him. Last year's yearbook photo didn't do him justice. I wished I'd taken more note of him when I'd responded so courteously, if hypocritically, to her greeting.
Matthew "Mongo" Mozilla was a wide receiver on the football team and star pitcher on the baseball team who, running contrary to stereotype, was rumored to be Harvard bound. I wondered how he and Beth would get along together there. They must have known each other here.
He looked bored out of his gourd, and greeted me very courteously, commenting on my swimming notoriety and how much he enjoyed my diving. It was nice having someone to look up to, physically. I mentally marked him as a potentially valuable ally. It turned out, being the senior rep, he was only paired with Heather on the committee through Mrs. Devers's machinations. He informed me that in real life Heather was, in fact, romantically entangled with the QB.
We both agreed: how formula can you get?
Mongo was a hunk I'd not mind getting to know better, on a casual basis, that is. Greg was still at the top of my charts, and I was looking forward to being paired with him for the next four years, if he could put up with me for that long.
There being only eight of us students in total, two from each grade, making the rounds to the ones we didn't already know personally didn't take long. As usual, I towered over all the other girls and most of the boys -- Mongo being the exception -- so I noticed Worthington's appearance before anyone else. In keeping with his enforced Program participation he was naked. A brief silence followed by burst of murmurs swept the room as eyes tracked him, and then chatter resumed as he went over to greet Mrs. Devers.
I tried to interpret the looks that followed him, without success. From what intelligence I'd been able to gather, politically he was a joker in the deck that was the school hierarchy -- neither faculty nor staff. A representative of the Federal Office of Social Awareness, he was charged with overall supervision of the Naked in School Program. As such he didn't report through the school's chain of command -- that would have been Mrs. Devers -- but to the regional office of FOSA. That had to bug the heck out of Mrs. Devers -- that and the fact that his charter granted him powers denied to mere Vice Principals.
Keeping an eye on Worthless as he circulated did challenge my peripheral vision, but I managed to be braced for it when he slithered up to me. I'd deliberately sent Mike off for a cookie refill, leaving me momentarily solo and vulnerable, figuring the Worm wouldn't miss the opportunity.
"Miss Walker, so good to see you again."
"In the flesh, Mr. Worthington," I responded courteously, turning to face him, not about to let him get behind me. "And you as well, I see."
"One of the burdens of leadership," he acknowledge nobly, spreading his arms slightly to display his unimpressive nakedness. "One must set a good example, mustn't one?"
He was as limp as a noodle.
"Indeed," I agreed. Don't talk, listen, I sternly reminded myself.
"So," he began conversationally, "what do you expect to see coming out of this..."
I had the feeling he was about to say something guaranteed to punch my buttons, like "silly" but he apparently caught himself.
" ... this committee of yours?"
"It's not my committee," I countered delicately.
"Oh come now! A bright girl like you should take credit for your accomplishments."
I shook my head. "The committee was certainly not my idea."
Which was true. I'd come up with some questions about The Program. The committee was Mrs. Devers's idea.
"But you will admit you put the idea in Mrs. Devers's head after our little disagreement over young Peggy's program violation," he suggested, oilier than a tub of multi-mega-plex popcorn with extra butter.
"I did have some questions for her about some aspects of The Program," I admitted. "But I don't recall Peggy's name came up."
"Since I'm the Program Coordinator you should have asked me," he countered petulantly.
"If you recall, I'd gotten off on the wrong foot with you that day," I pointed out apologetically.
"Indeed. So, what were the issues you raised?"
I shrugged, stepping back a pace. He kept moving in on my personal space and I was hoping he couldn't smell my fear-sweat.
"Oh, little things. Did you know, for example, that naturists carry a towel to sit on? It's for hygienic reasons, but it's something I thought of the first time I planted my naked butt down on one of those cold classroom chairs." I felt like I was tip-toeing through a mine field. "But of course anyone might have thought of that," I went on. "Many probably have."
Apparently deciding this was getting him nowhere he moved in on my space again, speaking very confidentially, like he was sharing a big secret. He even held my upper arm, making my skin crawl.
"Speaking of that, I've been -- ahem -- touching base with all of my current Program participants over the last few days, to see if they had any suggestions, checking on how they were faring. My other duties had intruded and I'd been a bit remiss in that duty."
Yeah, right, I thought, reclaiming my arm, backing away again, leaving his comment hanging in the air.
He closed the gap I'd just opened, going for my arm again. "Out of courtesy I'd planned to interview the ladies first, but that hasn't worked out. It wasn't like that last year, or during the first week this year. I don't suppose you know why the participants started showing up in pairs?"
Ladies first, out of courtesy? Right, and I'm the Pope.
Backing away again, freeing my arm to brush my hair back, I gave him my wide-eyed dumb blonde look. "Well, when they're selected, participants are paired up for the week so they can support each other. I would assume that's the reason. It should make your job easier, killing two birds with one stone?"
"Of course," he agreed, moving in again. "But you seem to be unaccompanied."
I tried to tell myself it was better being close to him. I didn't like the way his eyes skated over my lower regions at all. On the other hand, his touch gave me the creeps.
I nodded ruefully. "Since I was drafted into The Program for disciplinary reasons I have no partner."
I'd never fished, but suspected it was a bit like this. If that wasn't a tempting twitch of the lure I didn't know what was.
"Such a shame, a lovely young lady like you." He tut-tutted. "Well, we'll have to get together sometime soon. Perhaps tomorrow. I'll have to check my schedule."
You do that, I thought. His gaze seemed to lap at my freshly shaven pubes. Was that a twitch of interest from his endowment?
I waited for him to pursue the matter further, but he didn't. I could see Mrs. Devers watching us, and heaved a silent sigh of relief when she stepped in to call the group to some sort of order. I slipped away from Worthington to couple up with Mike, wishing I hadn't eaten so many cookies. Maybe I'd been wrong about those raisins. They seemed to be exploring my gut.
"As you know, this is just an informal gathering of the Central High School Naked in School Advisory Committee. I wanted to give you a chance to get to know each other," she began. "As I told you when you were asked to participate, as the Naked in School Program has proceeded, certain questions have emerged, which I'm not going detail here. You have all kindly agreed to address these questions and provide recommendations to improve our implementation of The Program. Thank you very much.
"We'll be formally announcing the committee and your membership on it during homeroom tomorrow morning. There will also be an article in the school paper. We'll explain its purpose, and at that time we'll encourage the student body to approach you with their concerns. One of your assignments is to make note of their worries or suggestions regarding The Program so they can be included on the agenda. Some of you have already communicated your thoughts, for which I'm grateful.
"You'll meet in this room on Mondays, at the end of the school day, beginning next week. Obviously there's no way yet to know yet how long the process will take. The first meeting will be organizational and I strongly encourage you all to attend. It's been my experience that to be absent risks being elected to fill the least desirable office."
That got some nervous laughter.
"All of you have taken part in The Program, or are doing so now, so you know what it is like to be naked in school. Mr. Worthington -- who is gaining such experience this week -- is Program Coordinator, courtesy of the Federal Office of Social Awareness, and as such has been included as ex officio member. However, it is not intended that he dominate the committee. You will be responsible for choosing a chairperson to conduct the meetings, a co-chair to be available if the chair is absent, and a secretary to take notes, produce minutes and cope with clerical details."
That was the shit job if ever there was one.
"Are there any questions?" she concluded
I might have stuck my hand up, but Heather, bless her dainty little brown nose, beat me to it.
"Can we call -- uh -- witnesses, or whatever you want to call them?"
Just what I was wondering myself. Thank you, Heather! I thought.
"It would certainly seem appropriate, but bear in mind this is an information-gathering organization. It has not been formed to resolve disputes or to be a judicial body. That will remain the responsibility of Mr. Worthington as Program Coordinator."
I did notice a few frowns at this announcement. Apparently he wasn't popular with some parties, most of them female. A grimace wrinkled Heather's perfect face, and her blue eyes were drilling holes in the Worm, which I found very interesting!
He merely beamed and looked around benignly.
"Any other questions?" Mrs. Devers went on. "No? Well, as I said, we already have a few issues on the agenda, and I'll make sure you get that list tomorrow. But over the weekend I suggest you draw up any further matters you feel should be taken up. Please have them ready so you can present them to be included for the first business meeting. Thank you all for volunteering to take on this challenge. Now, please, enjoy the refreshments and get to know each other."
Mike and I lingered a respectable amount of time before excusing ourselves. Out in the hall we both heaved a sigh of relief.
"How are you doing with being naked around here this week? Any problems?"
He shrugged. "It's okay. After what we did last year in Sex Ed, this is pretty tame. The upper class kids already have a year or more of experience with The Program, so they're generally pretty cool with it. Some of the freshmen are a little over-eager. Showers with the girls after Gym are fun, and I get relief whenever I need it. Some of the upper class girls can really suck cock!"
I laughed. "And how's Missy doing?"
He frowned. "She's been real uptight. Did something happen Tuesday?"
"Like what?" I asked, on my guard.
"When she came to school Wednesday she was real tense. Then when Worthington called her down for an interview she looked like she'd seen a ghost and insisted I come with her."
I grunted.
"I dunno why he asked her down. He asked a bunch of silly questions, asked a little about you.
"Anyway, before I came to the meet'n'greet she did ask me to tell you something. She said I should tell you she's got your back. Any idea what she's talking about?"
"Not really," I responded, feeling a surge of warmth. She was the only student who knew what was going on. I wouldn't put it past her to somehow muster the troops to keep tabs on me in a way that didn't set off any alarms. I could only hope nobody else figured out what I was up to and did something stupid. At least I wasn't quite as alone as I thought.
After recovering our clothes and dressing we talked about teachers and courses as we walked home together, until he headed for his house and I for mine. Once there I did my best to lose myself in my homework and dinner chores. Tomorrow, from what Worthington had said, was almost certainly going to be the day. But what in hell was I supposed to do if he didn't try to molest me? And if he did, how was I supposed to know if anyone was listening in and recording stuff?
All of a sudden this scheme looked very, very moth-eaten.
I was glad to sleep in Mom's arms again that night, not that either of us slept all that well.
"I have got to be out of my ever-loving mind to be letting you do this!"
Mom was between my spread legs, freshening up my pube-shave. I kept my mouth shut, and my legs open.
"You're only thirteen!"
"Almost fourteen," I pointed out. With everything that was going on, my birthday was the last thing on my mind. Even tomorrow's swimming trials were pretty much forgotten, though I knew I was in the worst condition I'd been in years. My total attention was riveted on getting Worthington and surviving the day.
She gave me her patented and trade marked "don't quibble with me, young lady" look. "What decent mother in the world would set her daughter up to get raped?"
I felt for her. "One who knows me, and trusts me, and wants to see the right thing done," I answered. "It's not like he's a serial killer. He only molests, and it's not like I have my virginity to lose to him."
"I should be arrested for child endangerment," she informed my cunt.
"The police already know," I pointed out. "They're co-conspirators, or whatever you call it, along with the District Attorney, Child Protective Services, and the school authorities. Who's left to arrest you?"
"I swear, you must have some kind of hypnotic power to rope us all into this mad scheme. Done," she sighed, sitting back on her heels, giving my pussy a tender, loving stroke of her hand.
"Thanks, Mom." I hugged her head to my barely developed bosom.
Our parting this day was even more desperate and prolonged than the day before. We knew it was almost certainly going to happen today, if it happened at all. As I walked out the door I felt the way I had the first time I'd taken the plunge off the ten-meter platform. Just after I'd stepped off, when I was beyond the point of no return, I wondered what had possessed me to do it.
Only in this case I could still turn back, call in sick, anything.
But I knew I wouldn't. No one has ever accused me of being a quitter. I was of the philosophy that quitters never win, and winners never quit. They'll probably engrave that on my tombstone.
Which was not a comforting thought, given the circumstances.
I used my anger to contain my fear, and tried to wrap the whole package in a "business as usual" attitude as I made my way through the day, waiting for the ax to fall. I was nearly oblivious to people coming up to me about the committee after the morning announcements.
I got to lunch a little late, the result of fulfilling a request I found quite reasonable and enjoyable -- Mongo asked me for a pose, and gave me a very nice feel-up! -- and as I entered the lunchroom I saw Missy whispering to the lunch bunch at our usual table.
As I went through the line, though, I saw her get up and return to her normal place, while the lunch bunch was huddled, whispering among themselves, exchanging looks, pointing to each other, heads nodding mysteriously. I tried to tell myself it was just the result of my mom's usual pre-birthday maneuverings, while secretly hoping that maybe I had allies, even though I was certain they didn't know specifically what I was up to. Except Missy. She knew.
Would she have told them? Unlikely. Not under a triple-cross-my-heart promise. In our book that superseded even life-or-death situations. Once she'd threatened to break the promise and tell if I didn't come down off the roof right away, using the ladder. I did, even though I was holding a really, really, really big umbrella, the one from the backyard picnic table, with both hands. I still think it woulda held me.
But even if she had told the lunch bunch everything -- which she hadn't, 'cause Peggy was right there and she wasn't in tears -- what could they do? If they tried to storm Worthington's office it would ruin the whole thing. Worthless would get off, and God alone knew what hellfire would rain down on everyone for botching the operation, for putting me at risk -- ME, who'd dreamed this whole thing up -- and leaving the Worm free to molest again!
Shit! I felt like a rat turd for getting them into this in the first place.
By the time I got to the table the bunch had assumed falsely casual attitudes. Peggy, worried but stable, kept looking at me. Lunch wasn't the usual carefree gathering. Beneath the joking and teasing -- along with a scolding for not telling them about my committee assignment, and a number of not-serious suggestions for it to discuss -- there was tension. It was like everyone at the table was watching storm clouds on the horizon, trying to get their picnic in and get under cover before lightning struck.
They obviously knew something was up, and I wasn't any help, waiting for the courier to tap me on the shoulder and hand me Worthington's summons. When it didn't happen it only ratcheted my case of nerves up another notch.
I wouldn't say I sleep-walked through the afternoon -- anything but. But my attention sure wasn't on what I was supposed to be doing. Gym was a farce, to the extent I wound up using my forehead to take one of Radditz's bullet serves -- the return went out of bounds -- leaving my ears ringing and my eyes crossed for about five minutes. She apologized, but it may have been retaliation for my near miss the day before. I couldn't blame her. I hadn't been paying attention either time.
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