Tim - Naked In School

Chapter 3

WEDNESDAY

I overslept again. I never oversleep, but two days in the Program with Theresa and I manage to oversleep both mornings. Why am I bothering to worry? She’s not shown any sign that she likes me.

I had to skip breakfast as well as run to make it to school in time. The assembly bell rang out as I bent over just inside the doorway trying to catch my breath.

Mr. Thompson was looking at his watch. "Sorry I’m late. I didn’t sleep very well. You know why." I said bluntly.

"You know her better than I do, but all the reports say that she’s adapting to the Program and apart from Sex Education yesterday, all her teachers say she’s doing fine. In Requests she’s doing more than she has to and doesn’t seem to have a problem."

"Yeah. She’s doing fine." Trust me, I made no attempt to hide the sarcasm. Mr. T stared at me thoughtfully for a moment, then strode away without further comment.

Great, I thought. They get me involved because they’re worried. Now they’re not worried but I’m stuck worrying about how she is.

The first time I saw her was in the mid-morning break, the ten-minute one. She was giving more blowjobs, one after another. Some girl was taking ages licking my dick so I was able to watch Theresa this time. She could get a guy off quicker than any girl I’d been with, then straight to the next, like a bloody production line.

The lesson bell went before the girl got ME off and Theresa looked straight at me. She seemed almost guilty, as if I’d caught her at something. But all I could see was pain in her eyes. So why was she… is she doing all this?

As soon as I entered the dining hall later on I borrowed Shelley’s phone again to call Mrs. Townley. "Send me your journal up to now," she demanded. "I hope it’s detailed. I’ll ring you back when I’ve read it." I went straight to the nearest classroom, logged in and emailed her the first two days of my journal.

Thank god proggies are allowed to jump the lunch queue. Otherwise I’d have missed lunch as well as breakfast. As it was, I barely had time to wolf down something vaguely edible, before the "RR bell", i.e. Reasonable Request time, sounded. Of course it was the usual sudden free-for-all for requests, not quite as chaotic as yesterday had been, but busy enough.

One girl asked me to go down on her. I figured that after yesterday in Sex Ed. I had something to prove.

I started licking all around her pussy, while I stroked her lips with a finger.

Then I spread her open and slipped a finger inside her. It was easy. Obviously she’d got excited summoning up the nerve to ask. As I moved my finger inside her she was breathing heavily and biting her lower lip. Suddenly she winced and I knew I’d found her hot spot.

I nibbled on her clit while my finger was driving her crazy. She came so hard she soaked my hand but I didn’t stop. My anger at my humiliation yesterday made me want to show off. And I did show off. I kept her on the edge, cumming repeatedly, while I ignored her cries of "that’s enough" and "no more".

Finally, just before the lesson bell went, I removed my finger and drank her with my tongue. She grabbed my head and forced me deeper into her, then finally relaxed.

My tongue and hand were aching like crazy, but she was worse. Her friends had to help her up and support her as they left the dining hall.

I think I’d repaired my reputation.

The next lesson was Art and I really needed relief. But Mr. Claymore asked me to wait. Theresa and I were posed so it would look better if I was hard and stayed that way.

She was half-lying, half-sitting, while I was leaning over her, my dick at the entrance to her pussy. One sudden movement and I’d be inside her.

"Theresa, with your free hand, if Tim gets soft, can you make him hard again please?"

Theresa was propped up on cushions, but after a short while my arms started to ache. It didn’t become easier when Theresa tugged on my dick occasionally to keep me hard.

After what seemed like an age, we could finally relax.

"I think he really deserves relief now. Theresa, would you oblige?"

"Lay down," she ordered me.

She knelt between my legs and bent down, her head over my dick. Then she took me into her, literally, the whole way. I could feel her throat muscles swallowing my dick, an incredible sensation.

You don’t need me to tell you that I came within about a minute, do you?

In the next pose she was sitting on my lap, her legs spread wide apart and I had two fingers from one hand in her pussy while the other hand was holding one of her breasts. I say holding. Actually I was gently stroking and occasionally rubbing her nipple, teasing her, while she wriggled her bum on my already-erect-again dick.

The rest of the class were forgotten as we teased each other mercilessly, not that anyone raised an objection. It was as if Theresa had become a different person.

Our final pose for the lesson was sitting side by side, hand in hand, with her legs over mine so that she was almost sitting sideways on my lap, with her head resting on my shoulder so I could smell those sweet apples again.

At the end of the class we walked to our last lesson for the day, English Lit. with Mrs. O’Brien. We were still hand in hand. Somehow it never occurred to either of us to let go. Happily the short walk was "request-less".

We both sit in the middle of the room there, next to each other but for a single intervening row of desks. Mrs. O brooks no nonsense so the class settled quickly.

She looked from me to Theresa, then back to me. "Do either of you need relief today?"

I glanced at Theresa and for the first time this week there was a genuine twinkle in her eyes, as if to say, "I will if you want to?" Then she lowered her eyes and I knew that she’d prefer it if we didn’t.

I turned to Mrs. O. "No thank you, ma’am. I’m okay."

"Miss Thumings?"

"I’m fine too. Thanks." Then she flashed me the tiniest of smiles.

Now English Lit. is my favourite subject and Mrs. O my favourite teacher. She’s tough as a pair of proverbial old boots, but constantly surprises and, dare I admit it, delights us with her ability to make the material come alive – even something as dry and difficult as T. S. Eliot’s poetry.

While someone was handing out a few photocopied sheets to the class, she explained, "I want us to look at some examples of imagery in poetry. We’ll begin with a stanza of Eliot’s "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock". Miss Thumings, please read from the handout."

Mrs. O insists that we stand when reading aloud, so Theresa didn’t even think about not standing up. She started slowly and a little self-consciously, but then she really got into the words:

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the windowpanes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the windowpanes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

"Please, ma’am. Can I read that again? I think I get it now."

"Of course, dear."

The second reading was much better and I could really see the fog swirling around an old house.

Oh hell! Forget about the poetry, well I did almost immediately. After Theresa sat down I could not stop staring at her.

Mrs. O had someone else read the next selection, but I didn’t hear a word of it, nor any of the rest of the lesson. Luckily she never called on me that day.

That is, until we were leaving at the end. "Mr. Stevens, a moment please."

I gulped once or twice as I waited for my execution.

"Did you hear ANY of today’s lesson, I mean after Miss Thumings’ recitation?"

"No, ma’am," I admitted sheepishly.

"I thought not. I know we have to make allowances for "proggies" (She spat the word out like an annoying fruit pip.), but you’ll have a great deal of work to make up next week. I think you should come and see me in the Staff Room first thing Monday morning."

"Yes, ma’am."

"And please ask Miss Thumings to come along as well." Then her voice dropped and a smile softened her face. "Earlier, you wanted relief, didn’t you?"

"Yes I did, but I could tell that Theresa didn’t so I …" My voice trailed away. I was more than a little embarrassed.

"You did well, sir. Now get out of here before I decide that I’m annoyed with you after all. Go!"

The corridor was nearly empty. Theresa had waited there for me. She took my hand again and we walked, slowly and silently, out to the clothes boxes.

Outside was chaos, as the film crew were setting up for an evening shoot.

"I see you two finally found each other," teased Shelley as we got dressed.

Yeah, I thought. We’re fine so long as I stay shtoom. It’s just that every time I open my mouth with Theresa, I say something wrong and upset her.

Before we could answer there was a loud scream, "Shelley!" and a girl came running across from the film crew. I recognised her well before she reached us. It was Sam Townley, our no-longer-resident pop star. (I’ve just thought of something. If ever I have kids, I’ll be able to brag to them, "I knew Sam Townley when she was Samantha Downing." Pretty stupid, huh?)

Shelley was almost squealing as they hugged. "Sam! What are you doing here? Don’t tell me they roped you into the film?"

"No, I’m just here advising. Gerard’s here too."

She needn’t have told us that as the great man had also spotted Shelley and was walking towards us. (I should perhaps explain. Gerard Vaughan is Sam’s manager, but he also manages many other successful musical acts. He’s a real celebrity in his own right and television’s favourite "talking head" whenever pop music is being discussed.)

He took Shelley’s hand and bowed to kiss it. Then he did the same to Theresa. As he straightened up he stared at her for what seemed like ages. By the time he said, "Enchanted, my dear," Theresa’s face was ashen in absolute terror.

He quickly turned away, "Come on, Sam. We have work to do."

I watched them walk away then turned back to Theresa. "What’s wrong?"

But she had vanished.

"Tell me I imagined it. Did she seem frightened out of her mind by him?"

"You didn’t imagine it," Shelley agreed.

"But I can’t understand it. He seems harmless enough."

An odd look crossed Shelley’s face. "Definitely not harmless. But he’s okay. I certainly can’t think of anything that would make her scared of him."

"I wish Mrs. Townley had called back," I sighed.

"She has. She couldn’t ring back earlier ’cause she got called to the Police station, but she wants to know if you can meet her. That’s really why I came out here looking for you."

She handed me the phone and to my surprise Mrs. Townley said that she’d come and pick me up straightaway.

She insisted on us going for coffee and Shelley came with us. She seemed preoccupied and didn’t want to talk in the car.

But as soon as we had our coffees, I began, "I was a bit surprised at you wanting to meet me. It sounds serious."

"I think it probably is," she replied.

"So what’s up with Theresa? I thought I was imagining it until just now."

"Just now?"

I explained how Theresa’d been all day and the wonderful time we’d had in Art and her getting into the poetry in E-Lit, then her weird reaction to Sam’s agent. "Is there something wrong with Gerard Vaughan?"

"No," she answered. "He’s no saint, but he doesn’t pretend to be. But I can’t imagine him doing anything that would frighten a girl like Theresa unless she started working for him and wasn’t working hard enough. Sam says he can shout enough to terrify anyone back into line then. But I don’t think it had anything to do with him personally."

"Then what?" I was more confused than ever.

"I read your journal. When you mentioned submissives, you also mentioned about being forced to cum. I think she may have been reacting to that rather than the word, submissives.

"I think she’s being abused. I don’t know if it’s emotionally, physically, I’d guess not physically as bruises are pretty hard to hide when you’re naked. Possibly sexually.

"Her fear of Gerard Vaughan, a fairly big and dominant man makes me more sure that she’s being abused. Perhaps by her father."

"She lives with her uncle and aunt," I explained.

"That makes the possibility of abuse slightly more likely."

"It can’t be. She’s never said…"

"She wouldn’t. My guess is that she’s learned to cope. But this week has just overwhelmed her coping mechanisms."

"How do I find out? What do I do?"

"Talk to her. Even ask her. She’ll probably deny it, but it’s worth a try. Make it clear that you’re there for her." She stared at me intently before continuing, "If you intend to be."

"Until this afternoon I didn’t even think she liked me. This is heavy. I’m not sure I can…"

"Then say nothing. Do nothing. I’ll have a word with the school nurse. Perhaps she can try to find out more. But don’t let her begin to trust you if you’re going to walk away from her."

Her phone went, then she said she had to go. She put some money on the table to pay for the coffees and left.

I saw Shelley looking at me and I could tell I’d disappointed her.

"I’m not sure I’m ready for anything like this. You know me, Shelley. I keep everything light. I don’t pretend I’m looking for love and the girls I go with know that. Good-time Tim, that’s me."

"So don’t get involved." Her scorn was palpable.

"I am involved. I really like her. I want to help her, but I’m scared that if I can’t cope I’ll just make things worse for her. I like her, and I fancy her like crazy, but then I’ll screw anything. I’m not ready to make this kind of commitment."

Shelley got up and paid the cashier. "Come with me," she demanded.

It was still cold outside. She turned down an alley to get out of the wind then surprised me by kissing me. Not a gentle kiss, but with her tongue invading my mouth and demanding that I reciprocate.

Her kiss left me breathless. She turned away, pulled her skirt up around her waist and her knickers halfway down her hips. "Come on, Tim. Fuck me. You need this. I always think clearest when I’ve been fucked."

I was hard as anything just looking at that inviting bum in front of me. I unzipped my trousers and got behind her. But then, "I’m sorry, Shelley. I can’t."

She adjusted her clothing and turned to face me. She was grinning like she’d won a prize.

"What?" I asked.

"Now we know how you really feel about her, don’t we?"

Feeling defeated, I nodded.

"For you to turn down a fuck, you’re really hooked. And from what Danielle, sorry, Mrs. Townley said, it would probably do her good to know someone really loves her."

"But I’m not ready…"

"Too late. You are in love, Tim, and you might as well face it before you run away from it and hurt both of you."

Shelley began to walk away. I called after her. "Shelley?"

She turned. "Yes?"

"Thanks."

She smiled and kept walking.