Lucy - Naked In School

Chapter 3

MONDAY (continued)

This was really it. I'd written reports about the Naked in School Program, but now I was actually in it.

"Still practising for your Spanish summer holiday, Lucy?" one of the boys asked as I walked into Spanish class.

Last week I'd made the mistake of mentioning that last summer I'd gone on holiday to Ibiza and taken a boat trip to a small nearby island I forget the name of and discovered that it had a nudist beach. I'd even admitted to stripping off, although it was only because it was a cool day and the beach was nearly deserted.

"En español, por favor," called Mr. Jefferson. That shut the boy up. His Spanish wasn't good enough to tease me in it.

"Graciás, señor," I said to him.

"De nada." (It's nothing.) It might have been nothing to him but anything to calm my nerves was a lot to me. Maybe the scene with Kim had shaken me up more than I realised.

"¿Gustaría alivio?" he asked. (Would you like relief?)

"No. Graciás." Not bloody likely. I took my seat.

One of the boys attempted to get Mr. Jefferson to discuss the Spanish attitude to nudity and sex. Some of the biggest European porno firms are based in Spain, still quite a religious, Catholic country. And topless is okay on pretty well all beaches; even nudity is acceptable on many, although not on crowded family beaches unless they are specifically nude beaches. Even there, sometimes it seems to be a competition as to who has the tiniest thong.

He refused, saying, "Estamos aquí para aprender la idioma español, no la cultura de los espanoles." (We are here to learn the Spanish language, not their culture.) I suspect that if the boy had opened the discussion in Spanish, the answer might have been different.

At the end of an uneventful class, the same boy beat me to the door. "I have a Reasonable Request. We couldn't study nudity in class, so I'll study it now. Can you sit on the bench and open your legs and your pussy lips, please?"

I grimaced. He'd carefully phrased it as a polite request so I couldn't refuse. Last week had been a bit of fun, but I hadn't had to perform to order like this.

I put my towel down and sat on it. The quicker I do this, the quicker it’ll be over, I thought, so I spread my legs wide and opened my pussy as wide as possible.

He put his face as close to my pussy as he could and breathed in. "Smells okay," he commented.

"Very generous of you," I replied, equally sarcastic. I could feel his breath on my pussy and it half tickled, half tantalised. "Seen enough?"

"Yes, thanks."

He got up and bent forward and to my surprise kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks, you were brill, Lucy."

I felt myself flush with pleasure.

I didn't have to move as more boys wanted to see up inside me. One even brought a torch, which I had to laugh at even if it was horribly embarrassing. Both of them dutifully copied the first boy and kissed me chastely on the cheek afterwards as they thanked me.

My next lesson was gym, which was a pleasant surprise. I had to wear my sports bra for the more vigorous exercises, but the feeling of freedom running naked apart from that was incredible. I recommend it.

When I went into the showers after gym, one of the other girls said, "Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere else?"

Whoops, I’d forgotten. I ran to the boys’ showers and inside them without even stopping to think.

…Until I was faced with eighteen naked boys, mostly looking at me. I went straight into one of the toilets, but as I pushed the door shut, someone stopped me. "I want to watch you," he said.

From the research I’d done while writing about the first Program girls, I knew the pamphlet didn’t say anything about that; maybe something had been forgotten when they adapted it from the American one. But in any case, it didn’t involve touching, so I guess I couldn’t say no.

"You really want to watch me pee?"

"Yeah."

"Yuck. That’s disgusting."

"It’s a Reasonable Request."

"I suppose so." I sat down.

"Can you open your legs wider so we can see better?"

"We?" I looked up, astounded.

A couple of other boys had popped their heads around the door. I thought I’d have trouble going because of nerves, but I didn’t. Actually I was curious, watching the first boy’s dick harden as I peed.

One of the others asked me, "Do you want to watch me go now?"

"Eww, no thanks." I got up and walked into the shower.

"Can we help you?"

"No touching allowed on day one, remember?"

To my surprise, far from being embarrassed at having over a dozen naked boys watching me in the shower, I found myself getting turned on by it.

One of the boys took the shower hose from me, and pointed it straight between my legs. Whether it was the feel of the hard spray right on my clit, or just being so turned on already, I don’t know, but I felt an orgasm coming and my legs were going shaky.

Luckily two of the boys grabbed me before I fell and lowered me to the floor, where I lay, the water from the shower still cascading over me. I remember seeing one or two of the boys trying to have a wank without me seeing.

When the bell went for the next lesson, I had to hurry to dry myself and run to class. My hair was still dripping.

"Late?" said Mr. Cassey, my Media Studies teacher. "That isn’t like you, Lucy."

Trevor was in this class with me, so I went to sit next to him. "How’s it going?" he whispered.

"Okay so far," I whispered back.

"Oh yes, I forgot," said Mr. Cassey. "I’m supposed to ask if you need relief."

"No, thank you."

"I suppose I really ought to ask you to come up the front."

"That’s okay." I tried to stay where I was, but Mr. Cassey just stood there quietly. Oh well, I thought, as I grabbed my towel, walked to the front and sat down again. He took up his favourite perch, on the corner of his desk.

"So Lucy. What’s it like for a journalist to be suddenly in the middle of a story?"

"I haven’t really thought about it like that. But surely the story’s over?"

"You think so? Have you seen this morning’s papers?"

"No." Oh dear. I usually made it my business to check out the national press every morning. Not so much to catch the stories, but more to see HOW they’ve been reported. I’ve got a trade to learn here, you see.

He reached for the pile of newspapers on his desk. "Let’s see…

"Under the dull but amusing headline of ‘PROGRAM REPEAT’, it says, ‘No, this time it’s not the BBC under fire for repeating programmes, but a school. Another dozen bare all for a week of debauchery…’."

"Great," I said.

"I’m surprised nobody saw the Sport yesterday. Seeing as a lot of you were in it!"

He opened the paper he was holding to its centre page. Under the title "SLUTTO", there were tiny photos of all the girls in the sixth forms.

"What’s that all about?" I asked.

"It’s like lotto, but the winner is whoever picks the highest number of girls who are chosen for the Program."

"This is sick," I commented. Several other girls muttered their agreement.

"You girls think that’s sick?" Mr. Cassey turned to another page and held it up so we all could see. "In today’s edition they’re offering £10,000 to the ‘Slut of the Week’ if she’ll do a gang-bang for their video collection."

"There you are, Lucy, you can make yourself a bit of money," yelled one of the boys from the back.

"Shut up!" ordered Mr. Cassey.

"What are the other papers like?" I was fairly sure I didn’t want to know, not this week anyway.

"Not as bad as that. But they all, without exception, cover the Program… ‘Controversial Program To Continue’… ‘Naked in School, Is it safe?’… ‘Your daughter next!’… ‘Media circus surrounds naked school.’ Quite comprehensive coverage, I’d say. Or to go by the photos, uncoverage."

"I see what you mean. But I hardly saw any photographers outside this morning."

"Probably because they know there’s nothing to see first thing on a Monday. But one satellite channel has already rented a house opposite the school playing field."

"Shit. We were running round there this morning." Or rather, I was running round there this morning.

Mr. Cassey offered a sympathetic smile. "You’ve probably been on a satellite channel already then."

"Can’t the school do anything, sir?" a girl asked. I knew the answer to that one.

"Not very much. But there is a special meeting for the whole school in the main hall instead of lessons this afternoon."

"What’s that for?" the same girl continued.

"Advice on handling the media."

"Who from?" I jumped back in here. This I wanted to know.

"I don’t know. I think Dr. Reynolds is taking the chair himself." Hmm. How much does he know about the media, I wondered.

The lesson was over and I asked Trevor, "Do you mind if I sit with the other programmers at lunch. Suzie says it’s the best way to keep from being pestered."

"Getting to you already?" he smiled.

"Not really. Though all that stuff in the papers freaked me out a bit. You don’t mind?"

"No. Do what you have to."

"Thanks." I kissed him, and not a light kiss either. When I let him go, he really was embarrassed. We NEVER kiss in public.

I was actually first to our lunch table, but was soon joined by Suzie with Kim. "How’d it go?" I asked Kim.

"It wasn’t as bad as I thought," she replied. "I didn’t like it, but actually most people were quite nice. When one boy was wanting me to open up wider, a couple of others told him to fuck off."

"Suzie, what’s this about a special media lesson for the whole school this afternoon?" I asked.

"I’m not saying anything." A sly little grin appeared.

"Then you do know. Come on, give."

"No. It was Laura’s idea and she’d kill me."

"Don’t tell me, you five girls are gonna teach us how to pose for all the sleazy photographers, or is just sitting on them enough?"

She laughed. "Yeah, that was so funny. I still crease up every time I see the video of Laura sitting on that poor, embarrassed reporter."

The other programmers had joined us and it was a strangely quiet lunch.

That ended when Laura came in with Shelley. "Hi, everyone," said Shelley cheerfully.

Laura went straight to Suzie and kissed her. "Hi, babe, how’s it going?"

"No problem."

"Come on, Laura," said one of the others. "What’s happening this afternoon?"

"That would be telling. But looking out of the window might give you a clue. Anyhow, we gotta go. See yer."

One of the boys came back from the window. "There’s about a zillion cameras out there, and some police cars too. God knows what’s happening."

We didn’t have that long to wait to find out, and we were kept busy posing for the second half of the lunch hour anyway.

"Seats reserved for you eleven in the front," a teacher told us as we walked into the main hall.

Any thoughts we had about this being just a lecture were dispelled by a familiar jingle. It was the intro music to the local TV news shows, and as it finished, Lindsey Crowe walked on stage.

There was a scattering of applause. She waited for it to end. "Hello, everyone. I’d like to thank Dr. Reynolds for inviting me here this afternoon for this presentation. But first, please welcome my assistant for today, Heather Hoover."

Heather was dressed in a smart, blue-grey striped skirt suit and looked every inch the professional. She was greeted by rather more applause and a few whistles.

"Thanks, everyone," Heather began. "Whether you like it or not, as you may have noticed, this school seems to be the biggest story in the country at the moment. You’re going to be under a relentless spotlight, probably even more than we were, and though that applies especially to those in the Program this week, it will affect you all.

"So when Laura said last week that the school should have prepared us for the Program, Dr. Reynolds decided to ask Lindsey Crowe and Gerard Vaughan if they would help prepare us, albeit belatedly, for the media spotlight we are under."

Although Heather didn’t say so publicly, I found out later from Samantha that Dr. Reynolds had made a bargain with Mr. Vaughan. He’d give permission for the choir to appear on the Larry Baker Show in return for Vaughan’s help with this.

"First, I’d like to welcome some people who’ve been through the media wringer and survived, if a little battered and bruised… Rough Diamond."

When she said their name, I think we all expected Rough Diamond, the performers, fancy outfits and all. What we got were three fairly ordinary-looking girls, dressed in jeans and T-shirts.

"Can you tell us a little about your experience with the media, girls?"

Through a series of very blunt and pointed questions from Heather, the girls told us how the media had built them up, made them the brightest stars, then knocked them down.

If they thought they were going to get an easy ride from Sam’s friend, they were wrong. "Surely, if you are a group who is expected to set an example to other young people, the media has a responsibility to tear you down when one of you steps out of line as Joni did?"

"Yes, but we didn’t do anything, Joni did. And they chose to forget something. She didn’t go off the rails on her own. She was pushed. The man who seduced her, and got her hooked on drugs, was later revealed to be an undercover reporter. Of course, he made his name as a reporter by doing an inside story on her downfall, conveniently ignoring the fact that he had caused it. When a police investigation finally revealed that he was the one who had given her drugs, he skipped the country before he could be arrested. Apparently the bastard’s living somewhere where there’s no extradition treaty."

Heather turned to the reporter. "Lindsey, how can you defend the media for this?"

"I don’t. I might add, though, that the reason he was revealed to the police was due to his own sub-editor tipping them off after he boasted about it around the office."

That was clearly not good enough for Heather. "But the media still hounded the other girls. Wasn’t it convenient, not to mention hypocritical, for all of you to forget the reporter’s role in destroying Joni, and with her, the reputation of the group?"

"Yes, it was. The problem was that by the time the truth came out, the world had moved on and hardly anyone was interested. Exposés on an ex-reporter aren’t as juicy or interesting to readers as a girl singer assaulting her fans. It’s wrong, but it happens."

Heather turned back to Rough Diamond and asked how they’d managed since that time.

Gerard Vaughan had made them tell their story to a reporter on a provincial TV news show. "They wanted a story, so Gerard told us to give them one, but the one we wanted to give," explained Dee Dee. "Then he booked us on tours abroad to keep some money coming in and our options open.

"The press hounding stopped almost immediately, but advertisers and TV bosses still didn’t want to be associated with us for a long while. Gerard has a few things lined up now and I don’t think the show with Sam exactly did us any harm." She had a big grin on her face as she said that.

They sat down and Heather introduced Frank Dexter. His rise and fall and rise and fall and rise again had been documented often in the newspapers, as had his numerous retirements and comebacks. Right now he was celebrating his fifteenth number one.

He kept us in stitches with some of his stories, interspersed with a common-sense attitude about the media. But the best advice, as far as I was concerned, came from Lindsey Crowe, who took over after Heather had finished interviewing Frank Dexter.

She began, "One of the things you have to understand is that there is no single body called ‘the media’. How you deal with one reporter or photographer isn’t how you should deal with another. Each of us is looking for a different type of story. You can say something safely to one reporter that will be a disaster if said to another.

"So how do you know the difference? You probably won’t. Which is why most of you should stick to the old tried and trusted ‘no comment’. By the way if you hear I’ve been sacked, it’s probably because I just said that."

That raised a laugh.

"But those of you in the Program probably can’t stick to ‘no comment’, at least not all the time. Some hacks, if they can’t get a story, will dig for dirt or simply twist things about until they manufacture a story. If you are in the Program this week, you ARE going to be written about, so warn your families. Some newspapers will call you sluts, girls. Just remember that those who believe it aren’t worth worrying about, just like the so-called friends who turn out not to be friends at all. Don’t worry about it. They, and the people who listen to them, just aren’t worth it.

"For the majority of the press, however, if you play straight with us, we shall play straight with you. Unlike Rough Diamond, who chose to be celebrities and are therefore seen as fair game, you had no choice and most newspapers and most television stations don’t want to be seen as picking on innocent, young schoolgirls or boys who haven’t asked for this exposure."

I’m not sure if she intended the pun, but a few of us laughed.

"And as some of you have already found out, it’s a two-way process. You can use the media too, as Heather and Sam have both discovered. But don’t be afraid to ask for advice. And although reporters don’t usually like it, there is nothing wrong with preparing what you want to say beforehand.

"One word of warning though. Once you start using the media, you’re no longer seen as innocent victims. You become fair game. That’s not to say don’t do it, but remember that nothing in this life comes for free.

"If you do find a reporter you can trust, it is in their interest to keep you happy, just as much as it is yours to keep them happy."

Then Heather took over again. "Now please welcome our headmaster, Dr. Reynolds, who is going to explain some of the rulings of last week’s Program Inquiry, which changes a lot of what is and isn’t acceptable behaviour for Reasonable Requests."

"Good afternoon. To say things got out of hand during the first two weeks of the Program is an understatement. There is a revised Program Pamphlet which, among other things, makes it clear that any Request made without considering the welfare of the participant is automatically UN-reasonable. Before you each go home, take a copy of the revised pamphlet. Read it tonight. I will accept no excuse for behaviour which doesn’t follow what it says. I repeat, there is NO acceptable excuse for ignoring what the pamphlet says. I have tried to make this a school where all of you can feel safe and comfortable, and I will take the strongest action against anyone who works against that.

"Now, before I hand you back to Heather. I’ve a reminder for those of you in the choir. If you want to be able to sing on the Larry Baker Show this summer, we MUST have the permission slips signed by a parent or guardian back by Thursday at the latest. Mrs. Johnson tells me that only about half of you have returned them so far.

"I appreciate that some of your parents have understandable reservations about the idea of you singing naked on national television. If they do, then please mention this to Mr. Tyler, Mr. Thompson or me and one of us will contact them directly if you wish.

"Now I am pleased to hand you back to Heather." I had the distinct feeling that Dr. Reynolds was enjoying this.

"Thank you, sir. Let’s finish this very serious discussion on a happier note. You all know that Samantha’s show last Wednesday made her the hottest thing on the market, present company excepted," she added quickly, nodding to Frank Dexter, who laughed. "As I’m sure Lindsey would have me add, that’s because the media chose to cover it, and even broadcast it live. I understand it’s also kept the phones ringing ever since for Rough Diamond.

"There is one other thing all of you should know. Laura Townley has been my closest friend for years. When she and her mother took Samantha Downing in a fortnight ago, they made it possible for Sam to sing in that amazing concert two nights later. Sam loves them now, and not just for that. So… for those of you who missed their show on Wednesday, and if you did miss it you don’t deserve this… Sam Townley and Rough Diamond."

Sam ran on from the wings, dressed like Rough Diamond in jeans and a T-shirt, but her T-shirt read, "I survived the Program" across the front. She turned round to show us the back and there it had "Program Survivor" in arched lettering over the name "SAM" in the middle, rather like a football shirt.

When the thunderous applause died down, Sam took the mike. "This song is especially for the girls who go through the Program, this week or in the future, whether you get egged or not. If there’s anyone out there who actually doesn’t understand that joke, it stands for Every Girl GEts Done.

"This song is also for Laura. It’s not my own song; it’s not even from Rough Diamond. It’s much older, but... let’s say I’ve made a few changes."

The familiar strains of a classic pop song blared through the speakers, and I couldn’t help laughing as Sam sang the title line… "Not a Virgin, Fucked for the very first time..."

It took a long time for the shouts and whistles and applause to die down at the end of the song. Eventually Sam waved us quiet.

"And now we have an extra-special treat for you. Rough Diamond are releasing a brand-new single in a couple of weeks, their first in this country for way too long." She waited until our inevitable applause finished. "The poor songwriter wrote a lovely verse to start it off, but it’s not included on the record. The girls are letting me sing that verse for you today. For the rest of it, remember everybody, you heard it here first."

While she was speaking, the other girls had disappeared. Then the curtain rose behind Sam. Rough Diamond hadn’t changed, but now they had their two guitars and full drum kit. Dee Dee, their lead guitarist, started playing some beautiful chords solo. For the first time I noticed the band’s own main speakers at the corners of the stage nearest the audience.

Sam had taken her hand mike backstage where we couldn’t see her. She sang simply, but with great poignancy. As her singing ended, the bass guitar and drums kicked in, and the girls began to ROCK! The song and their performance were as good as anything they’d ever done, I thought, but if that Vaughan fellow doesn’t get Sam’s verse on the record as well, he’s totally fucking crazy!

Leaving school and getting dressed we couldn’t help noticing even at a distance, we had cameras pointing at us. Kim was beginning to cry again, so the rest of us stood around her as she dressed. Suzie made us all wait while she took her back into the school to wash her face, then we all walked out together.

To the shouted questions, Suzie simply answered back, "It’s their first day. Be patient. They’ve had a lot to cope with."

Three cars took us all to Ws, where we went in the front and out through the kitchen. "Gorgeous" George, the ugly owner of the club, smiled and waved us through. Three more cars took us all home.

Not for the first time, I wondered what I had ended up being involved in.