NIS: Mrs. Trotter - Chapter One
Monday Morning, Bright and Early
"Yo! Hot to trot!" … "Hey, teach!" … "Woo-hoo!"
The usual catcalls and whistles greeted me as I stepped carefully out of my Volvo and smoothed my skirt. I ignored the small group of students waiting for me near the faculty parking lot as I reached into the backseat for a large shoulder bag. It held the assignments I'd graded over the weekend, my lunch, and the assorted things a young woman needs to get her through a long day.
"Oh man!" … "Check that out!" … "Go for it, Mrs. Trotter!"
They sat on the steps, a half-dozen high school boys, staring as I had to bend over and lean into the car. I felt my face redden and though I knew my charcoal skirt wasn't anything but conservative, their excitement filled me with doubt. I reached behind me to find the hem stretched tightly around the back of my thighs and I tugged it downward. Some of the loose papers had spilled out and it took a few seconds to collect them, giving my morning audience that much more time to admire my firm round ass and long toned legs.
Of course, as soon as I stood up and turned around, the boys sat perfectly quiet and offered me only innocent smiles. I shouldered my purse by its long strap, fixed my charcoal blazer over my white blouse, and carried my shoulder bag at my side like an odd sized briefcase. I heard my heels clicking and felt my purse bouncing off my hip, but I kept my head high and ignored the warmth in my cheeks. They were staring at me as I approached, whispering and laughing softly, and I had to climb the short steps between them as the boys gave me barely enough room to pass.
"I like your perfume, Mrs. Trotter," one of them said. "You smell really…hot!"
Todd Lowry, an eighteen-year-old senior and the leader of his small circle of friends, made a point of massaging the lump in his pants. The other boys grinned, watching me closely for any sort of reaction and despite my inner resolve, I could feel the color rising in my cheeks. Teenage boys are largely harmless by themselves, but get them together in a small pack…
"Thank you, Todd." I had no choice but to be polite, if only to set a proper example, but I'd decided early on that I couldn't allow myself to be intimidated.
Being a high school teacher wasn't an easy job for anyone, but most especially for those with less assertive personalities. I wouldn't describe myself as bold or unduly confident, but I'd been outgoing and popular as a student in my own high school. So I understood the advantages boys like Todd enjoyed. He was surrounded by his friends, good looking, and blessed with just enough charisma to gain the shallow respect of his adolescent peers.
Like all children, he wanted to extend his reach and test himself against his environment. Teachers were a part of that environment, naturally, and as an attractive young woman new to the town and the school, I'd become a favorite target for boys like Todd. If he could humiliate me or at least appear to exert some dominance in front of his friends, his influence would increase at the expense of my own.
Understanding that psychology, and being a responsible teacher, left me with little choice but to respond in ways that would maintain our professional relationship. I couldn't humiliate him or engage in some sort of contest of wills. I had to ignore the innuendo and take the boy's words at face value, and in that way I'd hopefully disarm his clever attempt to embarrass me.
That's how I had to deal with all of my students every single day and I'll admit that the effort could be taxing on my enthusiasm.
"Mrs. Trotter!" A freshman named Michael McMurphy blinked and nearly dropped his books as I walked past.
"Good morning," I said gently, offering the boy a genuine smile.
He was typical of another sort of student I had to cope with, being a shy young man of only fifteen. He'd never dated a girl, never kissed one on the lips or even held her hand. Michael desperately wanted to, however, and so he was the sort of boy who became easily infatuated with any girl sparing him even the smallest attention. Teachers by definition are required to interact with their students, to chide and praise them, to encourage proper behavior and reward their accomplishments. Our role puts us in a vulnerable position and boys like Michael were most susceptible to the age old curse of students falling in love with their teachers.
"Good morning," he replied softly, fairly basking in even that small moment of passing attention.
Walking through the crowded hallways before classes started seemed very much like walking through a minefield.
"Wow! Nice shoes, Mrs. Trotter!" Amy Watson said with a catty smile and her two friends shared in her laughter.
"Thank you, Amy," I replied politely, but a woman's patience only extends so far and I'll admit my tone wasn't entirely without sarcasm.
"Where can I get a pair?" Heather wondered, rubbing her swollen tummy and her baby was due in about a month.
I'd been more than a little shocked at first, finding nearly two dozen of the students pregnant. The school simply wasn't that large and where I'd grown up, teen pregnancy usually resulted in the girl dropping out of school or at least taking a semester or two off. It should have been a private thing. A humiliating experience, but none of the girls I'd met seemed concerned in the least. Some of them were actually proud of their condition.
Like Heather, wearing her pleated cheer skirt beneath her bare, distended belly. Someone had penned "Baby Inside" around her protruding belly button, like the Intel logo, and I rolled my eyes at that. Her cheer top was reduced to little more than a blue and gold halter as it stretched over her large, milk-filled breasts and the girl's nipples were prominent beneath the wet stains. She'd begun lactating and some of the other students had teased her about it, but again, I was struck dumb by not only her acceptance, but by that of the school as a whole. It made little sense to me and I always felt uncomfortable around the pregnant girls.
"Did you get those at Pay-Even-Less?" Valerie asked from behind my back and I had to let it go.
Amy and her friends, Valerie and Heather, were juniors, 11th grade cheerleaders and destined to rule the school the following year. They were already practicing for their upcoming roles and more than their superior attitudes and contempt for anyone not in their clique, the knowledge that I'd once been exactly like them disturbed me most. I'd been a cheerleader and ridden the Homecoming Queen's float my senior year. I'd teased girls less attractive than me, sometimes mercilessly, and reveled in my popularity. Tall, blonde, and blue eyed Amy seemed a mirror reflecting my past and I didn't care for the view.
It's difficult to say how or when I'd finally grown up, but it had happened and like everyone else I often wished I could go back and change some of the things I'd said and done. Amy and her friends would understand that someday, I hoped, and I only wished I knew how to tell them that it wasn't too late to spare themselves at least a few regrets later on in life. But even if I had the words, they wouldn't have heard them and their mocking giggles followed me down the hallway until they found someone else to belittle.
Of course, they'd singled me out not only because I was a teacher and 'the enemy' as they say, but I also represented a threat. The boys in school had little choice but to compare Amy and her friends with me. It's what boys do, compare women and grade them on imaginary scales, and unlike many of my female peers, I didn't suffer by comparison. I was every bit as attractive as Amy, but with the advantage of being fully developed and perhaps more importantly, unattainable.
Being an adult, a teacher, and married to boot, lent me a status that Amy couldn't compete with. High school boys, like their fathers, always want what they cannot have. The best toys are the ones other boys get to play with after all, and I'm proud to say a good many of the young and old men in Cotton Falls were quite envious of my husband. That unwanted but pleasurable attention translated into female jealousy on the part of their wives and girlfriends. For my students, especially the popular girls like Amy, I represented the unknown future when they'd leave their small pond for the open waters of the real world and discover that beautiful women are not such a rare commodity after all.
Perhaps that had been the catalyst for my own sudden maturity, being thrust into college and finding it filled with former Homecoming Queens. Physical beauty, I'd realized, wasn't enough to stand out in a crowd. Intelligence, personality, and a genuine capacity for hard work all counted for just as much, and the most popular girls were the ones who made others feel good about themselves. Amy would learn that someday, perhaps, or she'd end up as someone's lonely trophy wife, drinking too much, and trying to pretend it was the life she'd always wanted.
My mom's favorite drink is a gin martini, by the way. Two olives.
"June!" Mrs. Watkins waved at me as soon as I walked into the school offices. "Mr. Steinway has been waiting for you. Go right in."
"Waiting for me?" I smiled nervously, threading my way past the usual chaos.
"Morning, June," Mr. Clemens, one of the math teachers greeted me with a grin and I ignored the lecherous look in his eyes. He was harmless, but still annoying with his unabashed interest in all things female.
"Hi, June! Oops…Excuse me! Mondays!" Ms. Rodriguez rolled her brown eyes and smiled apologetically.
She taught English and Spanish and like me, wasn't much older than her students. Marie Rodriguez had been brand new to the school the previous year and the attractive young woman had offered me plenty of advice and sympathy early on. We'd formed a quick friendship as most of the other female teachers were older and shared a long tenure at Cotton Falls High. That situation had made my acceptance slightly more difficult perhaps, but with Marie's help I'd been able to overcome the natural suspicion we all have for strangers in our homes.
That's very much what a high school is of course, a home away from home, and no one guarded his castle so diligently as the principal.
"June. Good morning," Mr. Steinway said, waving me into his office while he covered the mouthpiece of his telephone.
I closed the door behind me and took a seat in front of the man's desk, smiling at the odd sense of déjà vu I felt. I'd graduated only three years previously and so my memories were still strong, if not fresh. I'd never been much for trouble, but I'd had a few visits to my old principal's office and I felt the nervous tingling in my tummy for no good reason at all.
"You know you're naked in school this week, right?" Principal Steinway said after finishing his phone conversation, replacing the handset in its cradle.
"Excuse me?" I smiled with confusion and in truth, the words hadn't made a lot of sense. I couldn't quite decipher them.
"Naked in school? You? Today?" he prompted me with a slow nod of his head. "You got the memo, didn't you?"
"Memo?"
"Friday," he said. "I put it in your box myself. You checked your box before you left, right?"
"I, uh…" I swallowed hard and shifted in my seat, feeling like a teenager again. "I think so. I didn't see a memo."
"Well," Mr. Steinway shrugged, "either way, this is your week and you need to get undressed before classes start."
"But…Teacher's don't get naked in school!" I said dumbly. "That's for the kids…the…the…the students!"
My face must have turned beet red and I could feel the heat radiating out of me as I sat there. My tummy had performed a high dive and I felt almost nauseas at the possibility that this wasn't some sort of strange joke. The Naked in School Program was something I struggled to understand anyway. It hadn't been implemented in the town where I'd grown up and so I'd never had to deal with it as a student. As a teacher, I had to support NIS and deal with those students who were in the program every week, but I wasn't sure I agreed with the idea. I'd thanked my lucky stars repeatedly that I'd never had to suffer the indignation of spending a week naked in front of a bunch of high school kids.
"Every four weeks a member of the faculty participates in the program," he told me. "You're the new girl, so...You get to go first this year."
"Nobody told me about that!"
"Nobody told you?" He narrowed his eyes and almost smiled. "It's in the contract you signed when you took the job here."
"I didn't know that!" I replied, wishing I had a copy of my employment contract in front of me that very moment.
"Now you do," Mr. Steinway said with a chuckle. "You're in the batter's box, June. I hate surprising you like this, but it's better to get it over and done with anyway. You'll see."
"No!" I shook my head. "I can't do that. I can't get…naked! I'm a teacher! I'm married! What will my husband say?"
"I'm afraid you have to," he said, clearing his throat and lifted his hands. "It's part of the job and you signed a contract. If you don't participate…"
"What?"
"We'll have to accept your resignation." Mr. Steinway looked honestly sad at that pronouncement. "The district paid you a bonus, the incentive bonus, remember? They're going to want that money back and…"
"They can't!" I said. "I…We…That money was the down payment on our house!"
"I know," he sighed. "I understand, believe me, but you're breaking your contract. The district will sue you for the money; you'll probably lose your teaching certificate…"
"What? Why?"
"June..." He held out his hands. "The state requires teachers to be responsible, dependable, and to uphold the moral values of our community. Breaking a contract is…Well, it's something that will haunt you the rest of your life, even if you manage to keep your license."
"Moral values?" I almost laughed considering the circumstances, but the man had spoken seriously. He meant what he said, I had no doubts about that.
"Please," Mr. Steinway said gently. "Consider this carefully. You're too young to throw away a promising career."
"But naked…" I shut my eyes tightly, praying this was only a dream.
"Not to mention your student loans," he reminded me. "The state won't pay them off if you're not teaching."
"Oh." I swallowed hard, feeling as if a piano had been dropped on me all of a sudden. My degree had been expensive and the state had picked up the tab so long as I didn't take my education somewhere else. They were desperate for teachers and it had been a deal too good for me to pass up.
We couldn't afford to pay back the incentive bonus I'd been paid either. I'd signed a contract for three years with an option for two more, and received nearly ten thousand dollars. I'd get that same bonus every year and my husband and I had planned much of our future around that annual windfall. Teaching didn't pay well otherwise, as everyone well knows, and the state had offered the incentive bonus as a stopgap until they could find a way to increase salaries and fund real benefits.
They'd want their money back! Every cent of it and we simply didn't have the cash, not anymore.
And would I really lose my teacher's certificate? Probably, I thought. Getting fired, which was what my resignation would really be, was surely grounds for revoking my license. Even if they didn't, I'd have to answer innumerable questions wherever I applied for another job. We'd have to move. Henry would have to find another job in another city and we couldn't afford that. We couldn't afford to live on one paycheck either, not if we were going to start a family in three or four years like we planned. How could I explain this to my husband? He'd be crushed after all his hard work!
How could I explain to him that I had to get naked in school? We didn't even make love with the lights on! He'd never seen my body, not all of it, and now Mr. Steinway expected me to bare myself in front of several hundred high school students? This had to be insane! A cruel joke and every part of me longed to stand up and walk out of that office forever. With my head held high, my dignity preserved, and my conscience as clean as it had been when I'd woken up that morning. But where would I go? What would I do?
"I have to talk to my husband," I decided, reaching for the phone without asking permission.
"Of course," Principal Steinway agreed. "Just, um…make it quick, right? We don't have a lot of time before first bell."
I dialed our house and got the answering machine, an old fashioned one that Henry had owned forever. It still had his original message, the one from fifteen years before when he'd been a brand new college student.
"Hey! You're too late, I'm already gone! But if you leave your name and number…"
I hung up with a frown and dialed his mobile and he didn't answer because he'd still be driving to work. My husband never answered his phone in the car because it wasn't safe. He'd point to other drivers talking on their phones, complaining about how dangerous they were. I'd usually ignore him or nod my head in agreement, but I honestly didn't care very much. Now I did.
"Stupid…Stupid…Stupid…" I breathed and then caught myself with a grimace. Henry wasn't stupid, I was. How come I hadn't read the contract more carefully? A Naked in School clause…Who could've expected that?
"No luck?" the principal asked with a sympathetic smile.
"I can't reach him," I said, hanging up the phone and taking a deep breath. "Are you sure this is in the contract?"
"I'm positive," he said and I knew he wasn't lying.
If he was making all this up for some reason, I'd end up owning the school and everything in it. My husband worked for a very good law firm and they sued people for silly things all the time. No. Principal Steinway had only telling me the truth and I had a very difficult decision to make.
"What are the rules?" I asked, clearing my throat and sucking nervously at my full, bee stung lips like a little girl.
"The same as for the students," he said. "You're setting an example for them, making it easier for the kids to deal with the experience."
"Hmmm…" I had real doubts about the whole thing anyway, even before this conversation.
"You'll have to remain naked at all times, except for your shoes," Mr. Steinway said with a smile. "I think you can keep those on."
"Thanks."
"You're not to hide yourself from view, like cover yourself with your hands or crawl under the desk," he continued almost jokingly, "and you'll get the same five minute bathroom breaks the students get."
"Three breaks?"
"All day long," he agreed. "But if you need more, nobody will complain. Use your common sense, June."
"Common sense is telling me to go home," I said with a wry smile as the principal chuckled.
"You have to submit to reasonable requests, of course."
"Uh…" I licked my lips.
"Students may want to, uh…examine you more closely," he explained. "You have to let them touch you and…explore? Shall we say? If they make a reasonable request, you can't refuse it. We've gone over this before, right?"
"Yes," I agreed with a reluctant nod.
We'd had several meetings with members of the school board and the district supervisor to discuss the NIS Program and especially reasonable requests, which were monitored by the teachers. The school faculty acted as judges and tried to rule fairly for everyone concerned, avoiding disagreements and helping the students cope with and learn from the experience.
"And if I think a request is unreasonable?" I asked, lifting my eyebrows. "Do I get to decide?"
"Uh, no." Mr. Steinway smiled at me. "You'll have to bring it to the attention of myself or one of the other teachers. We have to be fair, right?"
"Right," I sighed, getting a little tired of that word.
"And, I hate to bring it up, but if you have problems following the rules, then…"
"You're not going to collar me?" I blinked at him. "Are you?"
"Only if you break the rules, June."
We were speaking of a device that naked students wore if they couldn't obey the few simple NIS rules. A collar was fitted around the neck and the student's wrists were bound to it by short chains, keeping them exposed and largely helpless. It's very hard to do anything without free hands and if that punishment proved insufficient, the student could also be forced to wear a leg spreader attached to his or her ankles. I'd never seen the spreader used, but some of the teachers had assured me that sooner or later some unruly student would wear it. This was the fourth school year to include NIS in the curriculum and so I believed them.
"Now, if you wouldn't mind…" Principal Steinway glanced at his watch. "We only have about five minutes."
"Where do I change, um…" I glanced towards his closed door. Students changed in the hallway and I imagined Mrs. Hemingway, the vice-principal, would be handling that this morning, since the principal was busy with me.
"Right here is fine," he said. "Tomorrow and the rest of the week, you can change in your classroom."
"Can I, uh…" I smiled nervously and felt my cheeks redden again. "A little privacy?"
"Oh," he said with a smile. "I could step out, but really, June…I'm going to see you anyway, right?"
He had a point, but I still didn't like the idea of undressing in front of the man. Mr. Steinway wasn't very old, perhaps forty-five maybe, and he looked like a principal. He had a rather large body, a generous stomach, let's say, and a very high forehead. His round face was neither handsome nor ugly, but friendly and something like jovial would be a good word, I suppose. He'd make a good Santa, I thought, and I tried to picture him at the mall, bouncing a child on his knee and wearing a fake beard and red outfit.
Santa Claus wasn't real, but only make believe, and about as non-threatening an image as my imagination could conjure just then. Some people say you should imagine your audience in their underwear, but I'd suggest Santa or the Easter Bunny. I could undress for the Easter Bunny, couldn't I?
It didn't help as much as I'd hoped it would and my fingers trembled as I removed my blazer and folded it carefully. Mr. Steinway's constant glancing at his watch reminded me to hurry and I fumbled with the small buttons on my blouse, but removed that small comfort as well. I felt my skin flushing pink as I stood there in my bra, feeling it altogether too small for my breasts. I had that extra bit of pale flesh spilling out of the firm cups and I tried to ignore the principal's eyes as he stared at them.
I unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it with a shiver. I'd worn no stockings as my legs were very smooth and creamy all by themselves. I'd thought the contrast of my white skin and charcoal suit looked nice and now I regretted not having the extra clothing. I wondered if this was how it felt to play strip poker, a game I'd never wanted to play for obvious reasons. I hesitated as I stood in my thin panties and swallowed hard as Mr. Steinway's eyes drifted down to see a hint of curling blonde pubic hair through the lace. No man had ever seen my pubic hair before and I almost changed my mind.
"June…" he prompted me, tapping his watch impatiently.
"I know," I breathed, trying to calm myself and the rushing of my heart frightened me.
I felt as if I'd just sprinted a mile. My body burned and glistened with a sheen of sweat. My lungs ached and my tummy seemed to wrap itself in knots, giving me small cramps and making my knees wobble. I'd fall down in a minute, I thought. I'd collapse helplessly to the floor in my underwear. They'd call an ambulance and dash me to the hospital. Henry would rush to my side from his office, wondering why I would have passed out in front of Principal Steinway's desk wearing only my bra and panties.
That would be more than slightly embarrassing and somehow I found the motivation to reach behind my back and unclasp my bra.
My breasts sprang free, literally, as the bra straps fell off my shoulders and down my arms. I had very firm tits topped with strawberry nipples, long and hard just then and I wasn't sure why. I felt nothing but acute humiliation and irrational fear. Mr. Steinway was practically a stranger after all. I'd known him only a month and he licked his lips, staring at my proud breasts and dark, swollen nipples. They pointed slightly upward with the flawless curve of my tits jutting heavily from my slender body. My breasts were perfect, I'll admit, and some of my college friends had accused me of getting implants, but any such thoughts would have been wasted. They were completely natural as the principal could well appreciate.
"Hmmmm…" he sighed, sitting back in his chair with a dull squeak. Mr. Steinway's right hand disappeared beneath his desk, but I could see the tiny movement of his shoulder and elbow as he must have been rubbing himself through his trousers.
I laid my bra on the growing pile of clothing between us and asked myself one last time if I could really do this. Breasts were one thing, but exposing my sex, the very center of my womanhood…I hoped Henry would understand and forgive me. I felt like crying as I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my panties, but I refused to give in to that weakness. I felt ashamed, yes, especially since I could see Mr. Steinway's lust-filled eyes. I heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper going down, followed by a soft gasp as he took his arousal in hand. I couldn't see his penis, but I imagined I could smell the musk of his manhood on the sultry air. The room felt like a sauna, I'd grown so hot inside and out.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, closing my eyes and pushing my panties quickly down my legs before I could change my mind.
I did it for my husband, I thought, for our future. That's why I'd get naked in school. I'd bear the humiliation for a week and live with the memories for the rest of my life, but at least I'd have a good life. A decent life for myself and my husband, and eventually for our children. This moment would pass, this week would end, and all I had to do was survive it and convince Henry that my intentions were pure.
Mr. Steinway seemed to be mocking those intentions, however, and when I opened my eyes I regarded him somewhat coldly. He didn't notice though, since his eyes were fixed on my vulva. The fine, blonde hair that covered my sex did little to hide anything. I had a pronounced swell above the mouth of my vagina, the mons veneris, and below that lay the pink cleft of my sex proper. My clitoris remained sheathed in a knot of flesh at the top, but my labia were exposed and I wouldn't say I had overly large pussy lips, but they were coral pink and right there for anyone to see. If I became sexually aroused somehow, then I knew they'd become plump and greasy, heavy with excited blood and dangling between my thighs. I'd seen myself that way plenty of times, but I knew I wouldn't have to worry about it at school.
"Ugh…Ugh…Yessss…" Mr. Steinway hissed as he reached for a box of tissues with his left hand, scrambling to get some Kleenix around his spurting penis.
"That's disgusting," I told him, overcoming my shame just enough to voice the outrage I felt at being used that way.
"I know," he admitted with a breathless chuckle. "But it's allowed, Mrs. Trotter…Welcome to the Naked in School Program."
The bell rang exactly then and I quickly removed my jewelry, everything except my wedding and engagement rings, and struggled for the strength to leave the man's office.
Mr. Steinway had been right, of course, masturbation by students and faculty in the presence of an NIS student was allowed and even encouraged. It's one of many issues I have with the program. Masturbation is a sin, I believe, especially for a married man. If he needs to cum, a husband should ask his wife to do it. I didn't mind jerking off Henry from time to time, just as I'd been happy to relieve the sexual urgency of all my previous boyfriends. A woman should take care of her man's needs and being willing to do that, I found it rather insulting not to be asked!
Not that I wanted to touch Mr. Steinway's cock, not at all, but there is principle involved and if he'd asked me to do it…The rules left me little choice. How often had I told a naked student that she had to jerk off a boy? Countless times, because it seemed a reasonable request to me. The boys loved me for that, by the way, but hated me because I didn't agree that fellatio was reasonable, nor intercourse for that matter. The boy who requested a blowjob or a quick fuck couldn't look to me for support, he'd either have to convince the girl himself or find another teacher to rule in his favor.
"Avoid the men," I told myself as I opened the principal's door and peered into the busy administration office.
The male teachers thought almost any request was reasonable so long as it involved a naked girl. If I started getting requests for oral sex or especially intercourse, I'd have to make sure we found one of the female teachers to make a decision. I could trust them, I hoped, and this was the real issue. Naked in School wasn't just about taking off your clothes and walking around all week, it was about interacting with other students in complex emotional and very physical ways. If I wasn't careful, I could end up doing things I really, really didn't want to do!
"Oh!" someone gasped loudly as I left Mr. Steinway's office. A dozen students greeted me with wide eyed silence. Even the secretaries and a couple of the teachers who happened to be in the school office stopped what they were doing and stared.
I could barely walk and I shivered with goosebumps breaking out on my flushed skin. I didn't lower my head or anything. I didn't slouch or even try to cover my naked sex with my hands. I wasn't a child, I told myself, but an adult. I was a teacher and I had to set an example. That had been drilled into my head over and over in my courses at college. I had to remain of aware of my position and responsibilities at all times, under all circumstances. None of my professors had ever mentioned being naked however and I did suffer a sliver of doubt.
"Focus!" I breathed, ignoring the smiles and stares and whispers all around me.
A phone rang, but nobody seemed to notice. I'd become the center of attention and I felt their eyes on my breasts and pussy, on my ass when I'd walk by. Self-control became my world as I tried to turn off my senses. I didn't want to see them looking at me. I didn't want to hear their comments about my body. I didn't want to smell my own sweat as it evaporated from my skin. I focused inward, playing the emperor and convinced that I wasn't really naked at all, but it only takes one little boy…
"Mrs. Trotter's naked!" a freshman named Cal Winters yelled with a mixture of surprise and glee.
That seemed to wake everyone up and I nearly ran out the door as my confidence crumbled. I was naked except for the three inch heels on my feet. They clicked on the tiled floor, pushing my pert butt out even further, arching my back and stretching my calves, and forcing me to turn my hips more than I wanted to. Stupid shoes. They pinched my toes and made me strut like a runway model whether I wanted to or not. I had a long day ahead of me and I should have worn flats.