Rosie - Naked In School

Chapter 3

WEEK TWO WEDNESDAY continued

Mrs. Chaplain waited for the bell, then reached for the intercom to put out a call. I stopped her. "Let’s make it more subtle. Ask one of the other students to take a message to her quietly. Could she pop into your office when she’s finished her lunch?"

I missed lunch as I waiting for her. Mrs. C. left me alone in the office.

Finally Rosie knocked on the door. "Come in."

"Oh, sorry," she said. "I thought Mrs. Chaplain wanted me."

"It’s okay. Come in. Actually it’s me who wanted you."

"You, Miss Hoover?"

"Oh, god. Please call me Shelley. If I hear Miss Hoover one more time I’ll scream. Every time I hear it I feel like looking behind me to see who they’re talking to."

No laugh. No reaction.

"Please sit down, Rosie." She obeyed, of course.

"How’s your Program week going? It’s half over now."

"Okay."

"Just okay?"

"Yeah."

"Funny that’s what your teachers all say."

"You’ve asked my teachers? Why?"

"Yes, I asked them, and I don’t believe their answer any more than I believe you now."

No answer.

"Rosie, do you know who I am?"

"Miss Shelley Hoover."

"I mean do you know about my time in the Program?"

She nodded. "We have to. We studied all the early journals before they started the Program here."

"Then you know how much I love the Program and what fun it was for me, when things weren’t going wrong."

"Yes."

"But it isn’t like that for you. Is it?"

"It’s…"

"I know. It’s okay."

"Why have you been watching me, Miss?"

I let the "Miss" go this time.

"Because I’m worried. Because I’ve seen something in your eyes that scares the shit out of me. And I’ve spent the last two days trying to figure out what it is."

THAT got her attention. Possibly because I said "Shit".

"What?"

"You’ve got what I still call Heather Eyes."

She was quick. She knew EXACTLY what I meant.

"But I’ve never been raped or anything."

"No. I’m glad. But you’re surviving this week the same way she survived that night in the club. It was also how she reacted to anyone touching her for ages afterwards. You’re tuning out. Cutting yourself off. This week is hell for you isn’t it? And if you pretend it isn’t really you, if you’re somewhere else, anywhere else, you don’t have to feel it do you?"

Her silence told me everything I needed to know.

"Let me guess which bit of journal you identify with most. End of Samantha chapter 2?"

"As each of the class came and looked closely at what had been my most private areas, I realised that they weren't mine any more. My body belonged to anyone who wanted to see it and tomorrow it would belong to anyone who wanted to touch it. With a flash of clarity I understood how Heather had gone from shy wallflower like me, worse than me, to someone who would have sex with anyone and everyone. If our bodies weren't our own any more, if they'd been stolen from us and given to everyone else, what difference did it make if everyone used us?

"Nobody had touched me and yet I felt like I'd been raped. The class had gone quiet and I looked up. I realised that I wasn't lying on the table any more. I was curled up in a tiny ball in the corner crying as I'd never cried before."

"Except you won’t allow yourself to cry, will you? Are you scared that if you do, you’ll never stop? Or how about when Heather and Laura came to get her and she said,"

"Why don't they just rape me and get it over with? It couldn't be any worse. I feel so dirty,"

"That’s how you’re feeling right now, isn’t it?"

She couldn’t meet my eyes.

"I am going to touch you now. And I want you to think about what I’m doing and how it feels. I want you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. And I need you to be honest. Because whatever you say feels good, I’m going to keep doing and whatever you say feels bad, I’ll stop. And I want you to look at me. Okay?"

She look up. She was scared like Samantha had been at the petting party, but for the first time I felt like I was reaching her.

"Is this a Reasonable Request?" she asked. Was that an attempt at a joke I heard?

I smiled and began to stroke her hair. It took ages but I began to feel her relax.

"Do you like that?"

"Hmm. Yes."

I soon found she loved behind her shoulders to be caressed in big circles.

Her feet she didn’t like being touched and she wasn’t keen on her legs either, but running fingers like a waterfall down her spine sent little shivers through her.

"Oh, Stop!" she said. I stopped.

"That’s too nice."

"Do you really want me to stop?"

"No."

So I started again.

The upper surface of her breasts were so sensitive she actually came. And how! I thought my orgasms were pretty good but hers was intense. And when I touched her breasts again, it started again.

Then she took my hand and actually led me to her pussy.

I stroked her lips from the outside and she closed her eyes.

Opening her up she almost pushed herself down onto my fingers and she was orgasming again.

This girl was so multi-orgasmic she made me jealous.

I just had to taste her and when I slipped my tongue into her, she almost pushed my head into her pussy.

Finally she stopped cumming. Probably ran out of energy, I thought.

"See what pleasure your body can give you, if you let it?"

She nodded enthusiastically and grinned.

Then she said, "Your turn now."

I protested, but she insisted it was only fair.

First she undressed me, lightly kissing different parts of my body as she did so.

She caressed me as I had done to her, smiling each time she found places that made me go "Hmm."

Then she went down on me. I was a little startled as I hadn’t expected her to go that far.

At that point Mrs. C walked in. She looked at us, an expression of disbelief on her face, then walked back out again.

Rosie giggled. It sounded so nice.

"Thank you," I said. "That was… unexpected."

"Did I do okay?"

"You did fine. More than fine."

"Good."

Mrs. C and and I were laughing about that later on, and I could scarcely believe it when she told me that Rosie had actually volunteered in Sex. Ed. She’d never masturbated and wanted someone to teach her.

As I walked back to my hotel to write more of my report, I thought how ironic it was. Rosie seemed like she was the only live warm breathing person in that school, except for Mrs. C. of course.