10:00 A.M. Wednesday, Halloween, October 31, 2063
Nobody was late today, but the
undressing took longer than usual. Mainly because the undressing was
followed by redressing in costumes of the sort that are not welcome in public schools�
outside of Sex Ed. The fact that there were two women and a man, plus myself, already in the classroom didn�t stop them, though
some did step behind the bookcase to change. Three of them wore leather
and chains, two wore skimpy nightgowns, and three wore fancy underwear.
There were other costumes as well.
Mimosa Kang wore a long, almost formal
gown. I say �almost� because it was very shear. All her feminine
charms were visible.
Rita Banks was dressed as a streetwalker
from the late 20th Century: short shorts, tight pull-over
blouse, heavy make-up, and, just to make sure there was no mistake what sort of
character she was portraying, several twenty dollar bills sticking out of her
waistband and neckline.
Witashnah Gray Wolf was dressed as a
cowgirl, with denim short shorts and a huge hat. Being a full-blooded Na�tive
American, I guess that this was supposed to be irony. Cowgirls
and Indians.
Linda wore nothing, saying it was the
most cost-effective and sexiest �costume� she could find.
Amethyst wore her school uniform, only
the blouse was tighter, short enough that her navel was exposed, and the top
several buttons were undone. The skirt was *much* shorter than
regulation, and she wore no panties un�derneath.
It took me a while to realize who or
what Lisa was. With the metal band over her head, covering one eye, and
the gun with a cord leading to that band, and the tight, camo-print catsuit, I
wasn�t sure at all. Then it hit me: Angel Putzaut, from the latest James
Bond movie. I hadn�t seen it yet, just commercials.
I walked around, complementing each girl
and commenting on each costume.
�Amy, seeing you with that whip makes me
wish they�d never banned corporal punishment in public schools� except maybe it
should be the students spanking the teachers.� Wink and move on.
�Caitlyn,
I�m sure the Green Lantern Corp will be proud to have you, but WOW! you might distract the Guardi�ans.� Wink and move on.
�Amethyst, why didn�t you wear a
costume?�
�This *is* my costume!�
�It is? Oh, yes, I see now!
Sorry, it�s just that you always look so yummy and sexy in your school
uniform that I didn�t notice the diff at first.� Wink and move on.
�Twenty
dollar bills? For a babe like you?! Rita, you really
need to charge more.� Wink and move on.
And so it continued for almost ten
minutes. While this was going on, the girls complimented each other and
posed for each other to take pics. Then it was time to introduce the
folks I�d brought in just for today.
�Everybody, this is Marcella
Dubois. She is a renowned body painter. These are Richard and
Jennifer Kirk, two of her apprentices. They are going to paint you
today,� I continued, �and Ms. Dubois is going to supervise. Normally, her
works go for hundreds, in some cases thousands of dollars. You are getting
the art of two of her apprentices, with her supervision, for nothing
today. Let�s hear it for Marcella Body Studios!�
General
clapping of hands, with a few �yea!� thrown in. It
wasn�t as much of a bargain as I�d made it out to be; apprentices usually had
to hire models to practice on, and here were sixteen
of them at no charge at all. And *my* students got painted for no charge,
a win/win situation all around.
I turned on some music, mostly old songs
about teenaged girls. The girls lined up, two by two, removing their
costumes (except Linda, of course) and giggling as the airbrush tickled
them. As soon as the painting was done, they would run around displaying
themselves to each other, talking, and snapping still
more pics of each other.
More than half of the girls lined up to
be painted by Mrs. Kirk. Dubois and I both had to convince some of them
that it was OK to be painted by a guy. Some sought out Mr. Kirk right
off. I was not surprised to glance over and see that Amethyst was one of
these, as she lay smiling with her legs splayed wide apart so that the red
stripe that had been started at her forehead could be continued all the way
down. She was flirting and talking up a storm.
�Oh! What a figure!�
I turned to see Dubois had stepped in
front of Mrs. Kirk to make a fuss over Mary Kang, who was blushing as everybody
stared at her. Dubois was not helping things as she continued to appraise
the embarrassed fourteen year old girl. �And what *tits*! I want to paint you myself.
Oh, and I�d like a pic for the studio. Ah, what I could do with these,�
she cupped each breast, �and *this*!� She spun the girl around and
grabbed her ass. Poor Mary looked like she wanted to crawl under a rock.
I ran over to save the young virgin from
her admirer. Mary looked relived to see me.
�Well,� I said, being sure to keep my
voice down, �I sure hope you do a good enough job on her to make up for
embarrassing her so.�
Dubois looked surprised, then realized what she had done. She lowered her own
voice to a more reasonable tone. �I�m sorry. Sometimes I get overly
enthused. I *would* like to paint you, though. I promise not to
bellow.�
�Well,� Mary looked thoughtful, �OK, I
guess, but can I wait �till the end of class to decide whether or not I want
you to have a pic of me for your studio?�
�Sure,� Dubois assured her, �Whatever
you like.�
The crises resolved,
I wandered back into the middle of class, only to be accosted by Lisa.
�I know this song! Coach, dance
with me!�
There was a lot of dancing going on, and
I was a bit surprised by Lisa�s sudden boldness. All the chairs and desks
had been removed, so there was now plenty of room for the girls to dance.
The chairs and desks were actually removed to give the girls room to lie down
on the padded floor; and lie down they soon would, but not today. Today
was for dancing. We started steppin� and stompin� as the music of the
Runaways played in the background:
�Hello Daddy, hello Mom;
I�m you ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!
Hello world, I�m you wild girl,
I�m you ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!�
I couldn�t help but wonder how Lisa knew
this song; my grandmother had called it an oldie. The next song was
almost as old: �Hot Child in the City,� by Nick Gilder. His only hit,
back in the 1970�s. Fifteen year old Gloria Lynstad, who had just moved
to the States from
I knew I wouldn�t be able to dance with
each of them today, but there would be time tonight.
With five �till the buzzer, Mary stepped
out to many ooh�s and ah�s. On her young body was painted a land�scape of
the planet Mars. A crater was painted over her navel. The horizon
was at her sternum, with dark purple quickly fading to deepest black, with the
stars shining up to her neck. And, least anyone should miss that this was
Mars, the two moons were painted on her breasts. One moon was at first
quarter, and the other was full. The painting continued on her back, with
sand dunes running up her legs, culminating at her buttocks. The landscape
continued past the small of her back. The sky was there, too, but no
moons. They were hidden behind a towering natural stone formation of some
sort� or was it some sort of alien ruin? I couldn�t really tell, and
decided that must be the point.
A slow song started up (�Sixteen
Candles,� covered by a band earlier this year), and I took Mary into my arms
and danced the last dance of the class. The song finished just as the
buzzer went off.
As the standard racket of getting dressed and yakking was going on, I shouted, �Now you can have your paint costume on all day under your regular one! And you can wear it to the party tonight. Don�t forget the party tonight! You don�t have to come, I know you might have plans, but it starts at six and goes �till nine, if you can make it.�
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