4 comments/ 32011 views/ 20 favorites Never Judge a Book by Its Cover By: SlipLuvver I'd never considered having a relationship with another female. It wasn't that I thought the act to be repulsive in any way; it was just that it hadn't crossed my mind. It was something I knew about vaguely because we all suspected a couple of our female teachers at school as being over friendly with each other but when it happened to me it came as a bolt right out of the blue. Let me explain. My name is Fiona and I turned eighteen years of age in September 1975. I had attended an all-girls boarding school in the Home Counties since I was eleven years old and was now in my final year studying for my A-Levels in English, French and German. I was the Head Girl at the school and my ambition in life was to be a language teacher, hopefully teaching English to French or German children abroad and so I was hoping to get good grades and go on to university. I was an only child and my father and mother both had high powered jobs in the city and worked long hours which didn't always fit in with normal school hours. I'd had a nanny whilst I was at Prep School to take me to school and meet me out again and also prepare me a meal afterwards but my mother had always made sure that she made time for me in the evenings to read or play games with me. I never felt lonely at boarding school and had many friends, some of whom I still keep in touch with today. During my final year, I'd also had a casual boyfriend. When I say casual, we used to meet sometimes in the local park. His name was Gavin and he lived in the town and had recently started working as a mechanic in a garage. He was a year older than me and we had met while walking in the local park one Saturday afternoon. At first we just used to sit and talk, for while it wasn't against the school rules to talk with members of the opposite sex, kissing and fraternising with them was strictly taboo and could in extreme cases lead to expulsion from the school. Gavin and I had graduated to kissing, usually in an alleyway behind the garage, and on one occasion I had let his hand 'wander' beneath my skirt and fondle the crotch of my briefs for a brief moment. I remember the heat flowing through my body as he did this, though I resisted the urge to do anything more intimate. The resulting bulge beneath Gavin's trousers had needed attending to promptly and I had succeeded in relieving his tensions with the relevant 'hand massage'! I stopped seeing him shortly afterwards when I saw him kissing another girl in the High Street and my friend Janice told me that he had also tried it on with her. It was early in December when my first female encounter occurred. There was a tradition at the school that the sixth form pupils put on a Christmas pantomime for the benefit of the younger pupils and teachers alike, and also a second performance in which members of the local community and any parents of day children or boarders could attend, with all proceeds going to a local charity. I had performed in the previous year's pantomime which was Dick Whittington in a non-speaking role as 'a citizen of Olde London town'. This year we were doing Cinderella, and I had been cast in the title role. I had joined the drama society and also the school choir when I first started at the school and had been in one or two small in-school productions, often with just one or two lines to speak. Now it was my big break, and I couldn't wait. Rehearsals had been taking place since the beginning of October and I was word perfect in all my lines. My English teacher, Mrs Baxter, was directing the production, which was produced by the Head of Music, Mr Chambers, and it was after an English lesson one Friday afternoon that Mrs Baxter called me to her desk as I was on my way out. "Are you free tomorrow afternoon, Fiona?" she enquired, peering at me through her gold rimmed spectacles. "I thought it might be a good idea for you to have a fitting for your ballroom dress. I've finished altering it now and we do only have a couple of weeks before the performances you know. It's not long if I have to make any further alterations." "Yes that's fine, Mrs Baxter," I replied. "Janice and I had planned to catch the bus into town if the weather was fine, but it's not a problem." "Good!" said Mrs Baxter. "I'll pick you up around two o'clock then." "Very well, Mrs Baxter," I replied. "I'll see you then." Mrs Baxter had been my form tutor in my first year, as well as my house mistress. She was in her late thirties and lived with her husband in a small village about five miles from the school. She had brown hair which she always wore tied back in a small bun and brown eyes which twinkled as she spoke. At school, she always wore a brown tweed knee length skirt suit and either a white or cream blouse whose top button was always undone and whose collar rested on that of her jacket. Her jacket was always fastened, accentuating her curvy figure and she usually wore dark tan hosiery and dark brown low-heeled court shoes. She had never been known to shout at a pupil but instead always spoke calmly but firmly to make her point and as a result was much respected by all the pupils. As we were technically at school for twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, we spent a lot of our time wearing our school uniforms. For most girls, this consisted of a dark grey, knee length, pleated A-line skirt, a maroon blazer with the school badge, a white blouse and the school tie which was maroon with a white stripe. Girls in the first year through to the fifth year wore white or grey knee socks while the sixth form were allowed nude coloured nylon tights or stockings through the year or black woollen ones in extremely cold weather. All girls, regardless of their age wore thick soled black lace up shoes except at night within the dormitory and its environs when all manner of colourful fluffy slippers could be seen! Uniform rules were quite strict and on Monday to Friday, between eight o'clock in the morning and five o'clock in the evening, it was compulsory to wear the blazer and tie at all times. Outside of these times a maroon cardigan or pullover could be worn instead of the blazer, but the tie was still compulsory and heaven help any girl who was found without it. Our hair also had to be smart and any girl whose hair was more than two inches below her collar had to tie it back using a hair grip or some other suitable appliance. Mine was shoulder length when loose and I usually wore it tied back in a ponytail. Saturday at the school was different to a normal working school day. We didn't have lessons; however we did have 'homework' and were expected to revise for any unexpected tests that our teachers could spring on us over the following week. The dress code was further relaxed in that ties were not required and we could wear our blouses with the top button unfastened. After lunch, we were allowed two hours of free time when we could leave the school grounds, however if we did, we had to wear the full school uniform including the blazer and we had to sign out and then sign back in again on our return. On Sunday, most of the girls were encouraged to attend a local church according to their faith and again full uniform had to be worn, including an embarrassing straw hat with a red band around the brim, however restrictions were relaxed upon return to school and if any girl was spending the day with her parents she could wear her own clothes, although anything other than a skirt or dress was strictly forbidden on school premises, and these had to be a sensible style and length. Another concession granted for girls going out was that the hair restriction was also lifted. Most of the teachers who lived in at the school were single and we all had a designated dormitory mistress so it was rare for us to see any of the 'outsiders' as we called them at the school on a weekend, especially Mrs Baxter. On this day, however, she arrived at the school around ten o'clock as she was overseeing some scenery painting with the Head of Art and some of the other girls. I did some revision in my dorm and then had a light lunch around one o'clock and at two o'clock I knocked on her study door. "Come in!" she called from within. I walked in and Mrs Baxter sat behind her desk, dressed in her usual tweed suit and cream blouse. "Ah, good afternoon, Fiona," she said standing up. "You'll need to put your coat on, it's very cold outside today," she added. "The dress is at my house. I didn't bring it here because there's nowhere suitable to hang it and the hem is still pinned up in case I need to alter it. Would you meet me in the reception in ten minutes please?" "Yes Mrs Baxter," I said and walked out. She hadn't said anything to me earlier about going to her house but that didn't bother me so I went back to my dormitory and took off the pullover that I'd been wearing , fastened the top button of my blouse and put on my tie. I then added my blazer and buttoned it up, gave my hair a quick brush, making sure that the ponytail hadn't worked loose and went back down to the reception where Mrs Baxter was waiting for me. I signed out and walked with her to her car. "You know you didn't need to have dressed up so formally," she said when we got in. "We're only going to my house, it's not like you're going to be seen out in public." "I'm sorry, Mrs Baxter" I said apologetically. "I guess it's a force of habit when I go out on a Saturday afternoon." Mrs Baxter smiled and started the car up and we drove out of the school gates and along the country roads to her house. It took about ten minutes for us to get there and I was surprised to find that she lived in a large detached house on the outskirts of the village. "This is lovely," I said as I got out of the car. "I should love a house like this when I'm older. We only live in a semi-detached house at the moment." "Yes it is nice, isn't it?" said Mrs Baxter. "It's got a lovely garden, which is so ideal for the children." "I didn't know that you had children," I blurted out, somewhat surprised. "What are their ages?" "My son Sam is twelve and my daughter Kirstie is nine," said Mrs Baxter. "My husband has taken them to the football match so they won't be home until about six o'clock so it'll be just you and me until then." Mrs Baxter locked her car and took her house keys from her bag and unlocked the front door. I followed her through into the hallway and she invited me into the lounge. It was very tastefully decorated and a large colour television set stood in one corner. In another stood a fish tank with around twenty small tropical fish in them. I looked at them for a moment, watching them dart around the tank. "They belong to my husband," said Mrs Baxter putting her bag on the dining table. "Don't ask me what they are though; he's the expert in that department. I know there are a couple of catfish and the odd shubunkin in there but other than that I haven't got a clue!" "They are fascinating," I said watching them. "They can be very therapeutic, don't you think?" "Misty our cat certainly does," said Mrs Baxter. "She spends hours looking at them too! That's why we have a stout lid on the top! Now, would you like a drink before we start?" she added. "No thank you, I'm fine," I said. "Okay then, let's get on with it then," she said. "The dress is in the spare bedroom. That's where I keep all my theatrical costumes." I followed her out of the lounge and down the hallway and up the stairs. "How many bedrooms do you have here?" I said when we reached the landing, trying not to sound too nosy. "We have five," said Mrs Baxter. "This one is the main bedroom," she said pointing to one of the doors. "Sam's room is the next one along and Kirstie's room is across the corridor. Her bedroom overlooks the back garden, then we have a guest room where my parents stay when they come to visit, and finally we have 'my space'!" she said emphasising the last two words as we came to another door. She opened it and we went in. It was quite a large room overlooking the flat garage roof and had a large double bed which was covered with a pink bedspread and matching eiderdown. The eiderdown had been turned back revealing pink sheets and matching pillowcases. A small dressing table stood in front of the large window whilst three double wardrobes and a single wardrobe occupied the far wall. The first double one had a full mirror attached to one of the doors. "We occasionally use this as a guest room as well," said Mrs Baxter. "The only problem is that all the wardrobes are full of various costumes so there is nowhere for anyone to hang their clothes. Do you see what I mean?" She opened all the wardrobe doors and I could indeed see what she meant. There were dresses, coats, blouses, smocks and all manner of items. I even recognised part of the cat's costume from the previous year's production. "Gosh!" I said. "I would never have known you had all this." "The trouble is, there's not much room at school to store things," said Mrs Baxter closing all but one of the wardrobes. "I also have to make do and mend, adapting some of the costumes from one year to the next to make do. Anyway Fiona, here is your dress for the ballroom scene so we'll try that for today. Your other costume for the kitchen scenes is at the school. I have a couple of old skirts and an old blouse and cardigan which should fit you. It won't matter if they are a bit baggy as Cinderella was only a scullery maid after all!" She pulled out the gown which in truth was a former bridesmaid's dress made out of pink chiffon. It had three inch wide straps and a shallow v-shaped cleavage. It was ankle length and the skirt section was layered to puff out a bit. "Oh my God, it's gorgeous," I exclaimed. "Where on earth did you get this from?" "Believe it or not, I got it from a jumble sale in the village a couple of years ago for fifty pence!" said Mrs Baxter. "You wouldn't believe it would you?" "Certainly not," I said, running my hands over the material. "It really is magnificent!" "Well I need you to try it on for the length," said Mrs Baxter. "I've got pins in the hem just in case I need to raise it or lengthen it." I started to unbutton my blazer and slipped it off and laid it on the bed, then removed my tie. As I unbuttoned my blouse, I caught sight of Mrs Baxter standing watching me. Now I'm not averse to undressing in front of other females, having shared a dormitory with between three and seven other girls for the whole of my school life. Having other females undress in front of me never bothered me, neither did being naked or semi naked in the presence of the Dormitory or Games Mistresses but there was something about the way that Mrs Baxter was looking at me which suddenly made me feel embarrassed. I paused for a moment with the last two buttons still to undo. Mrs Baxter was suddenly standing behind me, her right hand resting on my right shoulder. "Come on now, there's no need to be shy," I heard her say. "Let me give you a hand." I felt her left hand fumble with the zip on my skirt whilst her right flicked at the little button at the waist. She gave it a slight tug and the skirt began slowly sliding towards the floor before landing in a heap round my ankles. I caught sight of myself once more in the long mirror. My maroon school briefs peeked out from under the hem of my blouse, and then there were a couple of inches of pale skin at the top of my thighs followed by the brown welts and sheer nylon of my nude coloured stockings. I could just make out the white suspender clipped to the front of each welt holding up the stocking, connected to the suspender belt still concealed beneath my blouse. I blushed a deep red at the sight before me and even Mrs Baxter had taken a step back in surprise. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I thought you would be wearing a petticoat underneath," she added, going slightly red herself. " I could see the white outline through your blouse. If I had known otherwise, I would never have done that. Please forgive me." "That's okay," I said, still feeling a bit embarrassed. "I do normally wear one it's just that I put one in the laundry this morning and then found that some of the lace has come undone on the hem of my spare one so it needs sewing back on again. I was going to do it this evening." Mrs Baxter stepped back and busied herself shuffling some clothes in the wardrobe as I finished unfastening the remaining buttons, including those on each of my sleeves, and cursed myself for being too keen with my laundry earlier that morning. At least with a petticoat I would have been spared some embarrassment. I shrugged the blouse off revealing the white thermal vest top which Mrs Baxter had presumed was my petticoat and stepped out of my skirt, putting both of them on the bed. Mrs Baxter now seemed to have regained her composure and looked at me. "You'll need to wear something under your ball gown," she said. "That chiffon can be translucent under the stage lights and we don't want the audience to see your dark coloured knickers, now do we?" she smiled. "Do you by any chance possess any white ones? She asked casually. I nodded, standing before her with my hands across my groin half trying to protect my modesty. "Well it might be an idea to wear them for the performance and maybe one of your petticoats too," she added. "What length are they?" "Just above the knee," I replied. "That might be too short," said Mrs Baxter thoughtfully. "It would be okay for the kitchen scenes because you'll be wearing a below the knee length skirt but we don't want any outline of your legs showing through your ball gown as I said before, do we?" I hadn't thought of this and certainly didn't want to be lit up for all to see. "I think I may have just the thing," said Mrs Baxter, rummaging about in one of the cupboards. She pulled out a long white garment and held it up in front of me. It looked like something my Granny would have worn and seemed to be about two sizes too large. It had straps around an inch wide and a shallow bust and plain hem and a wide skirt part. It reached about six inches below my knee and was made from nylon. "You can wear this petticoat," she said. "The girl who played Wendy when we did Peter Pan a few years ago wore it under her nightdress," she said. "It should fit you so can you try it on please?" She took it off the hanger and handed it to me and I folded it up to pull over my head. "Hang on a minute," she said, pointing to my vest. "Are you wearing a brassiere underneath that?" I nodded. "Would you mind awfully taking it off?" she added. I looked at her quizzically. "Why do you want me to take my bra off?" I said in a surprised tone. Mrs Baxter laughed out loud. "Oh good gracious, sorry!" she explained. "I meant your vest, not your brassiere. I don't want the vest showing above your dress as it has a high bust line. "You can keep your brassiere on, but while you're about it, would you mind removing your stockings so that they don't show through either? I think you can dispense with them altogether on the night as I don't think Cinderella wore nude coloured stockings, do you?" "I don't even think she wore a bra, but there's no way I'm going without one!" I exclaimed unclipping the suspenders from the welts and rolling the stockings down to my ankles. Mrs Baxter chuckled as I sat on the edge of the bed and untied my shoes and pulled them off, followed by the stockings and then pulled the vest over my head. I was left sitting in my plain white bra and my maroon coloured school briefs. My shyness had evaporated as quickly as it had come on and suddenly I didn't mind being half-undressed in front of my English Teacher. I stood up and Mrs Baxter handed me the folded up petticoat and placed it over my head, pushing my arms alternately through each of its sleeves. I let it ripple down over my body and adjusted it slightly so that it fitted snugly over my breasts and smoothed it down with my hands. It felt strange having such a garment brushing past my knees and I walked up and down a few steps to make sure it wasn't too tight. Never Judge a Book by Its Cover Mrs Baxter had taken the ball gown off of its hanger whilst I was doing this and carefully lowered the layered the skirt to the floor so that I could step into it. It wasn't easy and there was a lot of giggling on both our parts as I hitched up my long petticoat and stepped into it one foot at a time whilst also trying desperately to keep my balance and not tread on the delicate material at the same time. Somehow I managed to keep my bare feet within the ring of folded up material on the carpet and Mrs Baxter carefully pulled the dress up and slid my arms through the sleeves. She fastened up the long zip at the back and stood back to admire her handiwork. "Oh yes!" she exclaimed. "You look absolutely enchanting! You'll be the belle of the ball!" I stood admiring myself in the mirror, swishing the dress to and fro and listening to the smooth rustling noise that it made. Mrs Baxter went to one of the wardrobes and pulled a pair of low heeled shoes from the base of it. They were a pale red colour and she crouched down and asked me to lift up each foot in turn while she slipped them on my feet. "In a few weeks' time it will be Prince Charming doing this," she said as she put the first one on. "They're nice and snug," I said, wiggling my toes inside them. "They look a bit like Dorothy's shoes from The Wizard of Oz!" "They were!" said Mrs Baxter. "We did that about five years ago. You were a Munchkin I believe!" I had to think hard for a minute and then it all came back to me. I had been in the choir and sang at the beginning when Dorothy set off along The Yellow Brick Road and had also played in another non speaking scene when Dorothy left Oz in the balloon. I practised walking up and down in them and then Mrs Baxter added a red sash round the waist and clipped it on to some hidden press studs sewn into the material to enhance my slender waist. "Right, let's have a look at the length, now you have your shoes on," she said standing back and taking note of my poise. "Stand up straight please!" I stood in a semi regal pose whilst Mrs Baxter fussed about round the hem of the dress. It was slightly shorter than anticipated and she had to take out around thirty pins one at a time and lower the hem before refixing them in place again. She slowly worked her way round from my right hand side, round my back and then to my left and finally to my front kneeling on the carpet and shuffling round as she did so. As she came to the last few pins, I casually looked down watching what she was doing. When the last pin was in place she stood up, using the side of the bed to support herself and as she did so she turned to face me giving me the most unexpected view up the inside of her skirt. It was the briefest of glimpses and I could see that she was wearing a cream coloured slip and matching briefs which contrasted sharply against the dark brown lining of her skirt. She was also wearing stockings as I could see the bare flesh between her thigh and stocking top. I didn't say anything and Mrs Baxter didn't seem to notice her faux pas. I was a little shocked as she had taught us all the rules of deportment over the years and had paid particular attention to how young ladies should stand and sit and do various other tasks without showing the merest hint of anything intimate, let alone a full-on flash of one's briefs! I could feel her fussing about behind me, alternately smoothing the dress down, then lifting it up and pulling my petticoat straight, then smoothing the dress down again. She came round in front of me again and crouched down on her haunches, lifting the front of my dress then smoothing it back down again. She was facing to my left, and then all of a sudden she swivelled round slightly and gave me another flash, this time for a few seconds more before standing up straight. She brushed the front of her skirt and this time I was sure I detected a slight smile briefly play across her lips. "Everything seems to be in order," she said, standing back and admiring her handiwork. "Of course, on the day we'll have only around five minutes to get you out of your other costume into all this so we'll just have to do the best we can. Now there's just one more thing." She went to the wardrobe and pulled out an old shoebox. Carefully wrapped in tissue paper was a silver plated tiara. She took it out of the box and turned towards me. "Can you take your hair out of the ponytail, please Fiona," she said. "I want to fix your tiara in place." I duly obliged and shook it loose. Mrs Baxter laid the tiara carefully on the dressing table and picked up a wooden hairbrush. She carefully brushed my hair for a few minutes then pinned it back with a few hairgrips she found in a tin in one of the drawers. Then she took the tiara and placed it carefully on my head. "Now you really do look like a Princess!" she said. I stood admiring myself in the mirror. In the space of half an hour, I had been transformed from a typical 1970s sixth form schoolgirl into a beautiful princess. I paraded round the bedroom getting used to the feel of the dress swishing to and fro whilst Mrs Baxter stood watching, her arms folded in front of her, admiring her handiwork. I felt really calm and at ease. The dress was comfortable and more importantly nothing was showing through it. I couldn't wait for the dress rehearsal and for the actual performances. "Hang on a moment," she said presently, "I just want to take a few photographs. I'm sure you would like a few mementos to show your parents?" She disappeared out of the room and returned with a camera. She took a few photos of me in various poses and then for the last one, she crouched down in front of me again, looking up towards me as I smiled down at her, and once more I had a view up her skirt as before. Surely she wasn't doing this deliberately was she? That was the third view in less than fifteen minutes! The first occurrence could be deemed an accident, the second would be careless, but three times; surely that must be deliberate! She stood up and laid the camera on the dressing table and turned to face me. "Now then, Princess Fiona, I suppose we'd better presume its midnight and restore you back to your original persona," she smiled. "I guess so," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Have you enjoyed dressing up as a princess?" asked Mrs Baxter as she unclipped the sash from my waist. "Oh yes," I said enthusiastically. She put the sash on a shelf in the wardrobe and returned to where I was standing. I felt her pull down the long zip and she came round to my front and carefully lowered the sleeves from my shoulders and I pulled my arms from them. Slowly the long dress crumpled round my ankles and my long shapeless petticoat came back into view. I sat down on the bed and lifted my feet as Mrs Baxter stooped and pulled the dress away from them, this time without any unexpected viewings. She carefully shook it back to its full length and hung it back on its hanger, but this time from the picture rail rather than in the wardrobe. I sat on the bed and she disappeared from my line of sight. I was still wearing the red shoes and the tiara was still perched on my head. I heard her close the wardrobe door then I felt the mattress sag slightly and I turned to find her kneeling on the bed behind me. She put her hands on my shoulders and gently started massaging them. "You looked absolutely gorgeous in that dress," she said. "With a touch of makeup you'll look even better." She grasped my shoulders and planted a kiss on the side of my left cheek. I blushed slightly. "Thanks," I mumbled, but Mrs Baxter wasn't finished yet. She was now right up behind me and brought her hands over my shoulders and started gently rubbing my breasts through the nylon petticoat and the bra beneath it. She was kissing me on the cheek as she did it, first the left one, then the right, then back to the left one again. "Mrs Baxter, what are you doing?" I said trying to evade her kisses and squirming slightly on the bed. Mrs Baxter said nothing and carried on. Her hands had now wandered inside the loose bodice of the petticoat and I could feel her caressing my breasts through my bra. Suddenly she carefully lifted it up exposing each breast and began to fondle my nipples. Her hands felt soft as they cupped the curves of my breasts while her thumbs fondled each nipple in unison. I had a clash of emotions racing through my body. I was nervous because I had never had an experience like this in my life from a male, let alone a female, I was also slightly angry at her uninvited interventions but equally I was also beginning to enjoy it. I could feel my heartrate increase and my stomach was also churning and secretly I didn't want her to stop. But she did pause for a few moments and slid the straps of my petticoat from my shoulders exposing my bra. She pulled my arms from the straps and I felt her unfasten the hooks. My breasts weren't overly huge, but were perfect in every other way. She pulled the bra away and pulled my arms back into the petticoat straps and pulled it up again, covering my breasts once more. She also took the tiara from my head and shuffled back and put it on the bedside table and then started taking the hairpins out one by one. My hair gradually fell loose and was soon resting on my shoulders again. The hairpins were also placed on the bedside table and in an instant Mrs Baxter was beside me once more, kissing me as before and with her hands inside the top of my petticoat tweaking my nipples with her thumbs. "Lay on the bed," she whispered silently, and I kicked off the red shoes and lay back with my hair splayed out across the pillow. Mrs Baxter was now kneeling back on the bed, this time to my right and facing me. She was still fully dressed and strangely still had her shoes on. This didn't last long though and she started unfastening the buttons down the front of her jacket. She had soon removed it and put it on the bed behind her and I could see her huge breasts straining against the thin material of her cream blouse. I can't say I'd ever noticed them before as she always kept her jacket on and fastened up, even in the heat of summer. She started unfastening her blouse and I could see her bra emerging and her own nipples were already straining beneath it. She removed the blouse with consummate ease and cupped her breasts in her hands for a few moments, half closing her eyes and pushing them together and then away again in a circular motion. She shuffled off the end of the bed and stood facing me. A slow smile spread across her lips as she unzipped her skirt and gently lowered it to the floor. She stooped to retrieve it in a perfect poise so that nothing intimate was revealed up the cream coloured half-slip that she had worn beneath. She laid the skirt on a chair and retrieved her blouse and jacket, together with all my clothes, and laid them with it and within seconds her thumbs were inside the waistband of the slip and it was in a lifeless heap round her ankles. "What do you think?" said Mrs Baxter, smiling at me. She was now down to a matching cream bra and brief set and her dark stockings were clipped to a skimpy cream suspender belt. "Very n...nice," I stammered, unsure of what to say. "Do you always wear lingerie like this?" "Oh yes," said Mrs Baxter. "A woman has to feel right underneath as well as look nice on top. I hope you learned that in my deportment classes!" I nodded. "Then you'll know that you really should have worn a petticoat under your uniform earlier," she added. "They do make your clothes hang better, you know." I felt slightly ashamed at being caught out by my Deportment Mistress no less, and cursed myself once more under my breath. "I also hoped you liked my little teases earlier as well," she said. "I know it's not ladylike, but it's interesting sometimes to see people's reactions. You never flinched once you know!" she added. "I wasn't sure whether it was deliberate or an accident," I said. "How do you tell someone you've just seen their panties up their skirt?" Mrs Baxter laughed. "Very tactfully," she answered, and I couldn't help but giggle. Mrs Baxter smiled and kicked her shoes off before unclipping her stockings and rolling them down her legs. She bent down and pulled them off each foot, then stood up and immediately unclipped her bra and removed it. Her huge breasts tumbled out and she cupped them once more, rolling them together and tweaking them with her thumbs as before. Finally she eased her cream panties over her hips and guided them to her ankles before carefully stepping out of them. They joined the rest of her clothes on the pile and she stood before me, my English Teacher, stark naked. I couldn't take my eyes off of her perfect bosoms and the dark, hairy forest that surrounded her most intimate area. She reached up and unfastened the few hairpins which held her hair in its bun and her hair cascaded almost to her shoulders. Suddenly, she looked ten years younger and her svelte curves belied the fact that she was the mother of two young children. Mrs Baxter knelt on the end of the bed and shuffled across the eiderdown to where I was lying. She pulled up the long petticoat and I lifted my backside from the bed as upwards it went until my naked breasts were once more on view. I felt her cup my left breast with her hand while her mouth came down on the other and started to suck it greedily. A minute or so later she repeated the exercise with the other one and I felt my whole body shaking with this new experience. I reached out towards her, but she paused for a moment. Taking the scrunched up petticoat, she lifted it clear of my shoulders so that I was now completely naked from the waist up. She slid off the bed and pulled the eiderdown and top sheet from the bed so that now I was just lying on the bottom sheet only. Soon, she was back before me, her huge breasts hanging down as she bent over me. I could feel my stomach churning once more as she eased my school briefs away from my body exposing the few scant wispy hairs that guard my own private and hitherto unexplored cavity. The final frontier had been breached as she pulled them from my ankles and now we are both totally naked, save for the wedding ring and engagement rings on her ring finger, and my watch with its black leather strap on my left wrist. "Mrs Baxter..." I began in a low whisper as she moved to my left hand side. She put a finger on my lips to silence me. "From now on, Mrs Baxter remains at school!" she said softly. "When it's just you and me, it's Sheila, is that clear?" I nodded as she moved her upper body across me, deliberately bringing her breasts into contact with mine and sending sweet sensations of emotion flowing through my body. I gazed into her eyes, wondering what she was thinking and why she had chosen me out of all the other girls. She kissed me, gently at first, then with a bit more vigour until her tongue penetrated my lips. I returned her kisses and with interest as our tongues interacted. After a few minutes our lips parted and she inched her way backwards away from me. With gentle precision, she parted my legs and positioned them with my knees slightly in the air. My cavity was now open and I could feel her lips slide across my vaginal lips. I'd never touched myself in any sexual way, but now here I was with another woman doing it for me. Gently she kissed them, and then slowly licked with her tongue around the entrance. I moaned gently then suddenly yelled out as she brushed against my clit, sending even greater spasms through my body. My arms were on the bed one moment, then gripping the headboard behind me the next as she kissed and sucked my clit and I cried out once more, thankful that there was nobody else in the house to hear me and also hoping that there wasn't anybody outside who could. Without warning, the kissing and sucking ceased. I lay back with my head on the pillow, watching my chest rise up and down in quick succession, trying to work out if that was it or if there was to be more. That was far from it, however, as I saw the middle finger of her right hand slowly disappear inside me, then withdraw again almost immediately. She repeated it a second time, then a third. On the fourth occasion I could feel her right index finger as well. I gasped out loud and my eyes started to water. The daylight was slowly receding and darkness was enveloping the room. The only illumination we had was from a streetlight opposite which cast its light down the driveway just enough for us to make out each other's naked forms. Mrs Baxter was now thrusting her fingers in and out of me nineteen to the dozen, and I could feel sensations inside me like nothing else on earth. My whole body was shaking and I could feel my back arching off the bed with each inward thrust. "Oh God, Mrs Bax...Sheila," I moaned as by body became more frenzied. Mrs Baxter said nothing and I strained my eyes in the fading light. Her eyes looked to be closed but I could see was that she kneeling almost upright beside me and fondling herself with the same two fingers on her left hand at the same time although with much less intensity. Every so often she would moan gently but still she kept going. My body was almost out of control and I could hardly catch my breath as a tremendous surge of heat pulsated from deep within me and I let out an enormous yell, sufficient enough to start the next door neighbour's dog barking inside its house! Mrs Baxter withdrew her fingers from within me but was still playing with herself for a few seconds more until she too erupted, but far more quietly. The dog had soon stopped barking and I lay with my head on the pillow in the inky darkness. I felt Mrs Baxter shuffle next to me and we lay together in silence for what seemed like an eternity as the after spasms dispersed and my breathing returned to normal. "Oh...My...God!" I said eventually. "Did you enjoy it?" enquired Mrs Baxter. I turned towards her and put my arms round her neck and pulled her towards me. "Thank you, Sheila!" I whispered, and kissed her gently on the lips and she kissed me back. Downstairs in the lounge, an old Grandfather clock slowly chimed and we lay together listening to it. Time had obviously passed quicker than we had anticipated and we were both surprised to find that it was now five 'o clock. "Good Grief," said Mrs Baxter as the last chime struck. "Is that the time? The football match will have finished by now and my husband and the children will be home soon and wanting their tea!" She slid off the bed and I saw her shadowy form head towards the window and draw the curtains. "There's a cord above the bed to switch the light on," she said as we were now in complete darkness. I reached up and had soon located it and the room was flooded with light. I looked down at myself, then at the bed. The bedsheets were all stained from our combined endeavours and I felt wet and sticky down below. "Go and have a quick shower and freshen yourself up, there's a clean towel on the rail that you can use," said Mrs Baxter. "When you've done that, come back here and get dressed. I must get these sheets into the washing machine before my husband gets home and get some clean linen on the bed. We don't want him suspecting anything, do we?" "I guess not," I said as I got up and padded naked and barefoot across the corridor to the bathroom. I was probably away about ten minutes and when I returned, the bed had been completely remade and Mrs Baxter was nowhere to be seen. Her clothes had also gone leaving just mine behind. I soon dressed and brushed my hair, tying it back into the ponytail once more. I picked up the bath towel and went to the bedroom door. Never Judge a Book by Its Cover I took one last look at the bed, then at my ball gown which was still hanging on the picture rail. "Well, Cinderella, you certainly had a ball today, didn't you?" I said to myself and switched off the light and closed the door behind me. Mrs Baxter was down in the kitchen. She certainly was a fast worker. I could hear the washing machine hard at work and could see the sheets and pillowcases tumbling around inside it. She was now casually dressed in a pair of white trousers and a blue turtle-neck pullover and her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail similar to mine. "I'll run you back to school in a minute," she said, taking the towel from me. "Here, you'll need this," she added, handing me a piece of paper. I looked at it and it was a late order to give to the mistress on duty when I arrived back at school. This was a signed note from a teacher given to pupils who were legitimately going to be outside of the normal two hour allowance on Saturdays and Sundays. Without it, a pupil could be given detention, or lines, or sometimes both. I put the note in my pocket just as the door opened and Mrs Baxter's husband and children arrived home. I was duly introduced to everybody and it was interesting to see Mrs Baxter transformed from caring teacher to amorous lover and now to doting mother as she listened intently to everything the children had to say about their day at the football match. Football didn't interest me much, but at least they were happy, their team had won and was now top of the table, and they had secured the autographs of some of the players. Nothing was said about the events of that afternoon as Mrs Baxter drove me back to school. The talk was of the family and what I was going to be doing over the Christmas Holidays. When we arrived back at the school, she pulled into the car park and turned towards me. "I trust that you won't tell anybody about our little adventure this afternoon, will you Fiona dear?" she said. "Oh no," I said. "That's between you and me alone. I would like to do it again sometime though." "We'll see," said Mrs Baxter. "It won't be for a while though, you see my husband has to go away on business soon after Christmas for a few weeks and then you'll have your mock A-Levels coming up, and then the real thing. It would be nice though..." Her voice trailed off into the distance and she turned away for a moment. "Well, you'd better go in," she said. "I'll see you on Monday, and don't forget to give your note to the Duty Mistress, and whatever you do, don't kiss me or wave when you get out. Someone might see you do it and ask awkward questions." I duly promised and got out of the car and closed the door. Mrs Baxter drove away as I walked purposely towards the main door and signed the register and handed over my note to the Duty Mistress. The pantomime was a big success, although there were a few errors and mistakes made by cast and crew alike, including myself, and I left the school for the Christmas Holidays feeling happy and elated, although secretly I was sad that I wouldn't be seeing Mrs Baxter again for nearly a month. The holiday period soon came and went and we were well into January when the spring term started. As Mrs Baxter had predicted, we didn't have any time to ourselves as I was revising for, and then taking my mock A-Level exams. Our relationship at this time was purely as a teacher and pupil and before I knew it, it was Easter and time to go on holiday again. Returning after Easter we only had a final few weeks and then it was time for the all-important exams themselves. I'd passed my mock A-Levels with distinction and hoped for the same or better during the real thing. It was a few days after my final exam that Mrs Baxter stopped me after one of her lessons. These were now more of a class discussion rather than actual teaching and she spoke to me after the first lesson one Wednesday morning. "Could I have a word please, Fiona?" she asked, looking over the top of her gold rimmed spectacles once more. She waited until the last girl had left. "What lesson do you have next?" she enquired. "German with Miss Taylor," I replied. "And then?" She looked at me inquisitively. "After the morning break, I have a free period before lunch and then French with Mrs Robespierre straight afterwards, and then I'm free again for the last period." "Come to my study after the morning break," she replied mysteriously. "All will be revealed then." I left the classroom and made my way along the corridor and down to my next lesson. I couldn't help wondering what it was that Mrs Baxter wanted me for. I wondered if she wanted to take me back to her house for another session as there was nowhere that I could think of on school premises where we could meet. I couldn't get it out of my mind all through my German lesson where Miss Taylor was showing a film of German culture, narrated in German of course. I vaguely remembered bits of it and was thankful that she didn't ask questions afterwards. I was outside Mrs Baxter's study as soon as the bell went for the end of the morning break and knocked on the door. "Come in," she called and I opened the door and walked in, closing it behind me. Mrs Baxter was sitting at her desk, marking some work from one of the lower school classes so I stood patiently waiting until she had finished. It was unusual for pupils to be asked into a teacher's study; usually it was for some misdemeanour to be resolved or for detention but I had seen the inside of it a few times in the weeks leading up to Christmas due to my role in the pantomime. The study was situated on the first floor of the building and looked out onto the playing fields and the rolling countryside beyond. From where I stood, I could see some of the younger girls playing hockey a few hundred yards away, whilst some others were running round an athletics track. The study contained her large ornate desk and the swivel chair that she was sitting in had an imposing emblem of the school badge carved above the headrest and a dark red leather cover on the back and seat. There was also an imposing red leather two seat sofa in the centre of the room together with a matching armchair while a portrait of a rather stern looking headmistress from the early part of the century presided over the proceedings from above an old fireplace. Unusually for Mrs Baxter, she wasn't wearing her usual tweed skirt suit, but instead wore a sky blue dress which rested just on her knee together with a matching jacket. The dress had a high neckline and therefore showed no trace of her ample bosoms, whilst her hair was pinned back rather than tied in its usual bun and her gold rimmed glasses were perched on the end of her nose. "Ah, Fiona, thank you for coming," she said putting down her pen and looking up. "How would you like a bit of 'fun' between now and lunch time, you know, work up an appetite for lunch!" "That would be nice," I said politely trying not to sound over eager. Inside however I was secretly cheering. "Are we going to your house again?" "No we can't I'm afraid," said Mrs Baxter. "My parents are staying with us at the moment looking after Kirstie. She had her tonsils out last week and is off school at the moment eating ice cream and being spoiled rotten so it's out of the question. My husband is away on business again otherwise we would have had the house to ourselves." "So where are we going to then," I said. Mrs Baxter stood up and walked round the desk to where I was standing. She smiled as she put her arms around my waist and kissed me on the lips. "Not here!" I said astonished. "We can't surely. Someone will overhear us." "It will be fine," said Mrs Baxter. "You know there are no classrooms up here, only teachers' studies. Mrs Robespierre and Miss Dunkley are both teaching until lunch time, and Mrs Reid, Mrs Thornton and Miss Willis are all away. We'll be fine, you'll see!" She leaned forward and kissed me on the lips again before I had a chance to reply. Her tongue was trying to part my lips and within seconds I had succumbed. I gripped her waist and we stood locked together, our bosoms rubbing together under our respective clothing, our tongues probing the inside of each other's mouths. Her hands slowly wandered from my waist until I could feel them pressing on the cheeks of my bottom, pulling my groin towards hers. We must have stood in that clinch for a good five minutes, until Mrs Baxter finally broke free. Without saying a word, she carefully pulled the maroon bobble which held my ponytail in place and let my hair fall free and then unbuttoned my blazer, slid it from my shoulders and then tossed it casually into the armchair. I felt her hands once more on my bottom as she slid her hands over my skirt towards the zip and button that held it in place. I felt the waistband slacken and she eased it away until it cleared the hem of my blouse then she let go and let it fall lazily in a heap round my ankles. "I see you remembered our little chat from last time," she said, looking at my white petticoat and the intricate lace hem resting a good four inches above my knee. I nodded and felt her hands resting on the smooth shiny material, rubbing it up and down over my panties hidden beneath. I was beginning to feel very excited by this point, especially when she started to carefully undo the knot on my tie and then slid it seductively from under the collar of my blouse. It joined my blazer on the chair and she started unfastening the buttons down the front of my blouse. She was certainly teasing me by now, taking her time over each button, running her hand over my body as each button was carefully parted until finally, every button had been accounted for and she slid the blouse from my body and tossed it in the chair with my blazer. "Heaven, sheer heaven," she mumbled rubbing my breasts through the soft, silky material. "I do so like this!" My nipples were now hard, and I could feel wetness in my pussy area, but I wasn't ready to give in to her yet. Last time, it was she who had led me on, but this time it was going to be me in charge, and I knew exactly where I was going to have her! Her jacket wasn't fastened and it was easy for me to remove it and drop it in the chair behind me. I then looked her straight in the eye. "Take that dress off!" I said quite forcefully and she immediately reached behind and unfasted first the small hook and eye in the nape of the neck. The dress was sleeveless and she reached behind and pulled the long zip down slowly, almost smirking at me as she did so, then she slid her right arm out of the sleeve, followed immediately by the left, holding the dress close to her upper body as she did so, so that all I could see were the tantalising thin straps of her own white petticoat and bra. She tantalisingly lowered the dress towards the ground, milking every moment, as inch after inch of petticoat slowly emerged until finally it was low enough for her to step out of. With scant disregard, she casually tossed it towards the chair with the other clothes. Her own petticoat was slightly shorter than mine with as much intricate lace detail around the bust and hemline. She stood between the window and myself and with the help of the bright sunlight I could make out the tops of her dark stockings, each held up with a couple of white suspenders fastened to their matching lacy belt, her white panties which were much skimpier than the last pair I had seen her in and a low cut bra showing off her gorgeous breasts. I licked my lips in anticipation and kissed her once more, allowing our tongues to explore deep within each other's mouths once more and gripping the shiny material tightly. Slowly and carefully, I started to walk her backwards round the desk until eventually her big swivel chair was behind her. "Sit down," I ordered and she duly obliged. "Now, let your hair down." Mrs Baxter took out the small number of pins securing her hair and it gently fell loose. She had had it cut since our last meeting and was now just over collar length. I swivelled the chair slightly so that she was at a right angle to the desk and then knelt down before her. I pushed the hem of her petticoat up as far as I could, exposing her stocking tops and white panties and ran my hands over her crotch and sneaked a finger inside. There was more than a definite dampness there and she too was primed and ready. "Take your panties off, Mrs Baxter," I said calmly but firmly and she lifted her bottom off the chair and hooked her thumbs inside the waistband and pushed them forward towards her knees before sitting back on the chair again. I pulled her panties forward and away over her stockings and shoes and spread her legs apart. I could see her dark thatch and not only that, I could smell her too. I shuffled in on my knees, following the scent like a bloodhound. Her curls had been pressed flat by the tight panties but a quick stroke or two with my fingers soon brought them back to life again before I parted her pouting lips. I put my tongue inside her, searching her out this way and that. She was extremely wet and she moaned and pulled my face further towards her loins so that I was almost suffocated in the hairy mass. Her fingers were stroking my hair and her hips were pulsating on the leather chair. I ran my hands up and down her nylon clad legs while she held my face tight against her and all the time the intensity was building up inside her. Every now and then, I let my tongue seek out her clit and she would let out an audible gasp until she began to shake and tremble as the passion inside her erupted and she let out an even louder gasp. She was still holding my face right up to her thatch and suddenly I was covered in her juices. I managed to pull away slightly and get some air then she let go of me completely and sat back, her legs still apart, her pussy still on show and her arms resting on the arms of the chair, trying to get her breath back. I looked up at her and could feel the results of my endeavours trickling down my chin. I looked around for something suitable to wipe them off with but all I could think off was my handkerchief which was in the pocket of my blazer and which I didn't think would be really suitable. The only other thing I could think of was the hem of my petticoat and I Lifted the front of it and carefully dabbed my chin with a small piece of the material. This action seemed to reinvigorate Mrs Baxter and she sat up straight. I was still kneeling in front of her and she could see my white briefs and stocking tops clearly. She indicated for me to remove my petticoat which I duly did by lifting it over my head, then she leaned forward and pulled me close to her fuzz once more and unfastened the clasp of my bra and I felt the straps slip from my shoulders, freeing my breasts. "Come and sit here," she said softly, patting her left knee. I stood up and did as she asked, perching rather uncomfortably where she indicated. She placed her left arm around my waist to steady me and began gently fondling my nipples alternately with their fingers of her right. They were already bullet hard and my pussy was sopping wet and a very small damp spot had appeared on the front of my briefs. She started kissing my neck, then my right nipple whilst fondling the left one, then my torso. Her hand suddenly went straight from my breasts and inside the front waistband of my briefs without warning and I jumped at the sudden invasion of my privacy. "Take them off!" she said quietly, and I stood and quickly slid them from my body. She grabbed my waist and pulled me towards her so that my slit was now inches from her face. Lovingly she began to slide her tongue inside me, tasting my juices as I had tasted hers a short time before. My hands were on her shoulders as she brushed against my clit and I almost screamed out and clung on tightly to her, and then she did it again and then once more. I could contain myself no longer and let out an enormous yell as once more my body spewed forth like a river over her face. Thankfully this time there were no dogs in the vicinity to start barking and my juices were now running down my legs, making the tops of my stockings damp. Mrs Baxter stood up and hugged me, kissing me on the lips. "Thank you, Mrs Baxter," I whispered, kissing her neck and feeling the soft white material of her petticoat rubbing against my body. "My pleasure, Fiona" said Mrs Baxter. We stood in a romantic clinch for a few minutes, just generally hugging and kissing each other's lips and saying very little. Suddenly the lunch bell sounded, making us both jump and we broke apart. My few pussy hairs were now dry and stiff and my groin area felt moist and sticky. I longed for a shower but the dormitory areas were out of bounds at that time of day so I knew I would have to wait until later. I just hoped the smell of female secretions wouldn't be spotted by anyone. I looked at Mrs Baxter. Her petticoat had a large damp stain in the crotch area, mainly I suspect from my more recent eruptions than hers previously. We started dressing again, although it took me longer as all she had to put back on were her panties, her dress and her jacket. I watched her step into those panties and she made no attempt to hide her private areas from me so I had one last fleeting glimpse of her pussy as she pulled the front of her petticoat up and pulled them into place before letting it drop again. Soon we were both dressed once more and I tied my hair back with the bobble. I couldn't smell anything and the moistness in my groin felt less severe. I looked up at the picture of the old mistress hanging on the wall and couldn't help but think what she would have made of the proceedings which had just occurred and whether she had seen it all before! "I would never have thought that you would be into female company," I said, giving Mrs Baxter one last kiss before I left. "You know, we always thought that it was Mrs Sharman and Miss Race who were lesbians." Mrs Baxter burst out laughing. "Whatever made you think that?" she asked, looking surprised. "Because we often see them walking out together arm in arm," I said. "They are twins!" she said, still chuckling. "Non-identical twins! I know Miss Race has her hair styled short and almost manly but she's actually the biggest flirt I know at social occasions. Don't tell anyone that though, will you?" "No," I said, blushing and feeling deeply embarrassed that I had misjudged them so badly. "Mrs Sharman's husband was killed in a road accident and as she never had any children, her sister is the only family that she has," Mrs Baxter continued. "You should never judge a book by its cover, Fiona, after all, look at me!" I couldn't help but look at her and wished that I could undress her and eat her pussy out once more and that she could do the same to me, however Mrs Baxter was right. Our activities had given me an appetite and I kissed her once more in the privacy of her study and fondled her breasts through her dress, rubbing the material over the shiny petticoat and bra that I knew was concealed beneath. She in turn crouched on her haunches, lifted my skirt and petticoat and kissed the crotch of my briefs, giving me one final exotic view of her underwear up her dress. We walked down to the dining room together although we ate our lunches separately, me with my friends and her with a group of teachers. Every now and again I would look in her direction and if our eyes met she would smile at me and lick her lips. The rest of the day passed in a blur, and after that the days seemed to pass by so quickly until the last day of term. I had a few more English lessons with her but we never met socially again and we also had an end of school party which she attended and then my time at the school was over. I successfully got the required grades required to enter university and although I shared a room with another girl and became great friends with her, I never had any lesbian attraction to her or to any other females I encountered, in fact I was more into boys and soon had a steady boyfriend. Never Judge a Book by Its Cover Mrs Baxter and I kept in touch by letter fairly regularly with me telling her how I was getting on with university life while she would keep me informed of school and family news but these slowly dwindled and when I left university our sole contact for a few years was an exchange of Christmas cards until these too ceased. A few years later I attended a gathering of 'old girls' at a school reunion and learned that I was not the only notch on her stick and that she had enjoyed several liaisons in the past with senior prefects or occasionally Head Girls. I didn't let on that I had been one of those notches although it not something that I was ashamed of. I also heard that she had left the school and had become a head teacher at a school in Scotland and I wondered if she was still entertaining her girls up there. I became a teacher and now live in Switzerland, close to Zurich, where I teach English. I'm married to a Swiss National with a son and a daughter and life couldn't be better. I often look back on my school days and think of Mrs Baxter and those two extraordinary liaisons with her and I wonder if she ever thinks of me. She was the last person I would think of as having lesbian tendencies but as she said to me on our final embrace in her study, you should never judge a book by its cover.