Miserably Chloe slipped back into the wet and diaphanous blouse that clung to her body like a second skin, revealing her bra and the cleft of her bosom quite clearly. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. Looking left then right around the door, the corridor was thronging with pupils moving busily to class. She winced as the normally light blouse weighed heavily on her slender frame, the bra having absorbed the excess moisture and rubbing achingly against her nipples, causing them to point accusingly.
When eventually the corridor was adjudged to have thinned out sufficiently, Chloe made the daring exit. Immediately her breasts squelched together. She prayed the walk from toilet to classroom would dry the blouse, yet the corridor was no heat trap, the opposite in fact. As a chill draft blew through, her nipples throbbed and expanded, threatening to erupt through the front. “Oh my God,” she mouthed, fanning frantically with an open palm.
As the classroom door came into sight her stride slowed, not really wanting to arrive, yet already five minutes late. The hum of the fourth formers inside rose like an aeroplane’s approach the nearer she crept. Stealing a huge lungful of breath, Chloe executed the entry. The class stopped chattering immediately, a rare first. All mouths were agape at their teacher’s damp apparel and eye-popping damp boobs. “Is it raining outside, miss?” one impish boy chimed.
The entire class erupted in laughter and it was all Chloe could do to bring order. Appealing for silence as the wet blouse clasped at her boobs, she tried to wrest back control, but soon found she was fighting a losing battle. It was then that the door was pushed open. All eyes turned right, bringing a semblance of relief to the red faced schoolteacher, no longer the focus of attention. It was a short lived relief, however, for in the doorway stood nemesis Kevin Manning. He looked her up and down as if addressing a carcass before speaking: “Excuse me miss, the headmaster wants you in his office now, miss.”
“Oooooooh,” chorused the class.
Turning to the rabble and waving her hands agitatedly, Chloe warned: “One peep from this classroom while I’m gone and it’s a week of detention for the lot of you.”
A hollow threat, even as she spoke, Chloe could feel her authority evaporating. Tottering off in the unaccustomed heels, she ducked beneath Kevin’s arm, outstretched in a gentlemanly manner to hold the door open. He betrayed himself by giving her arse a good slap as she passed. “Did you fall in the pool, miss?”
Chloe glowered. “I wouldn’t mind betting you were behind this, Kevin Manning,” she spluttered.
“Me, miss?” he replied with an outward look of innocence that belied the evil schemer within. “It seems to me, miss, that there’s no one but your stupid self to blame.”
Chloe held a tight lip until the corner was safely negotiated and they were out of earshot. She yearned for the blouse to dry off miraculously before the headmaster’s office, but it was still sopping wet. The frustration coming to a head, she pulled up sharply. “Now look here, Kevin Manning…” she cried, prodding a tremulous finger in his face.
The sixth former brushed away the slender digit with utter disdain. At that moment it dawned on Chloe that she’d been duped. Why would the headmaster send a sixth former to collect her? But by then it was too late. The geeky pupil jerked, forcing her inside the storeroom and slamming the door shut to swathe them in grey darkness. “I’ve missed you, miss. Have you missed me?” came his words.
“Kevin, no,” she pleaded as he strove to force his lips to hers.
“Don’t fight me, or you’ll end up the loser,” he threatened. “And when did I allow you to stop calling me Sir?”
SLAP.
“Ow,” she whined, more from surprise than pain, gingerly touching her cheek. “Sorry Sir. I won’t do it again.”
With that she let him have his kiss, cringing as the lizard like tongue darted against her lips. Consenting to open, she allowed it to slip inside the warm welcoming mouth, startling as a hand rose to cup a breast. The blouse squelched wetly and as Kevin’s palm grazed across the outer edge of the nipple and she moaned subconsciously back into his mouth. Clamping his thumb and forefinger around the erect teat, Kevin rolled it back and forth. Chloe almost forgot her hatred for a moment, consumed by a weird lust. For a nerd, he knew the right moves to push her buttons. But then he had been watching her long enough.
Footsteps outside alerted the odd couple, the storeroom door suddenly pushed open to allow in a sheet of light. Quickly the pair secreted in the darkest corner, Chloe’s back pressed tight to Kevin’s chest, her soft arse to his crotch. She could feel the powerful erection digging in. Thankfully Kevin had one hand over his teacher’s mouth, for her breathing alone would surely have given the game away. The other hand strayed dangerously close to her pussy.
In stepped the headmaster, three quarters of the storeroom lit by the artificial light of the corridor. The pair were concealed, but only just. Blissfully unaware of their presence, Mr Mason scanned the shelves as if looking for something in particular. Chloe grimaced as Kevin adjusted slightly, his hard cock prodding deeper into the crack of her bum. Gratefully the headmaster found what he was looking for quickly, turning to exit. As the door closed and restored the semi-dark, Chloe pushed away both of Kevin’s hands before exhaling a massive sigh of relief.
“Mmm, wasn’t that exciting?” observed Kevin nonchalantly, but then he had little to lose.
Chloe shook her head silently, willing the ordeal to end. It was then that she heard a key turn outside and the storeroom door was locked shut. “Oh my God!” she cried. “We’re trapped.”
“Mmm, alone with your favourite student and all the time in the world.”
“You may be finished for the day…Sir, but I’ve a group of fourth formers without a teacher. Do you really want to get me fired, Sir?”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully in the semi-dark.
“Please help me get out, Sir. If the head finds I’ve left my class unattended again, I’m done for.”
Kevin mulled things over for a minute. “Okay, this might help in the short term. Why don’t you phone Mr Andrews? He’ll cover for you until we can get out. Here, use my phone.”
Jeff Andrews was the games teacher, a thickset rugby enthusiast who’d made it patently obvious he liked Chloe. Though the feeling wasn’t exactly mutual, she’d used the situation to her advantage, winning favours with her feminine wiles whilst managing to keep him at arm’s length. And right then she needed a massive favour. As the phone unfolded, it lit up the room like Christmas.
Chloe lapsed easily into her finest ickle-girl-lost voice. “Hello Jeff, um, it’s Chloe…hi. My mum’s been taken suddenly ill and I have to dash off urgently. Please, please, please could you keep an eye on my fourth formers in room eight?”
Grudgingly the games teacher accepted, with the proviso that she owed him a big drink. The immediate dilemma solved, they still had to get out of the locked storeroom. Chloe sat down to ponder, distancing herself as far as possible from Manning. They could be stuck here for hours. Five minutes passed, then five more as they pondered in silence. Suddenly Kevin sprang to his feet, mounting a shelf and scrambling up. Above his head a feint dusty square of light hung in the air. Chloe heard the air vent being removed and saw a square passageway open. “No way, Sir…nooooooo way.”
“You want to get out, don’t you? Or do you want to get found in the storeroom with one of your pupils?”
He had a point. Dejectedly she stood.
Kevin helped her up, wasting little opportunity to paw at her bum as his schoolteacher squeezed into the smallest of recesses. Chloe spluttered as a face full of dust blew up. Shimmying through on her belly, she prayed there were no spiders or rats in the tunnel. A short yet exhausting snake-like crawl, marvellously there was light at the end of the tunnel.
Looking through the slats overlooking the corridor, the coast seemed clear. Lowering the vent she climbed out, quickly joined by Kevin who issued a sadistic smile. His dark clothes and jeans brushed down easily but from the reflection of a window opposite, Chloe’s cream blouse and peach skirt were caked in muck. With her hands and cheeks also having turned a charcoal black, she resembled a chimney sweep. “Oh dear miss, what a mess you seem to have made of yourself.”
Chloe sprinted for the exit, unable to escape the school quickly enough, furtive glances around like a truant. At least off-site there was less chance of encountering those that knew her, though the strangers she passed on the jog home offered quizzical looks at the once respectable woman who now resembled a Victorian street urchin. To make matters worse, a huge shower of rain fell. Frankly though Chloe was past caring and it was with immense relief that the door finally closed and she was able to savour the sanctuary of the shower.
Upon exiting, discovered a text message: hope your mum’s ok, jeff.
Guiltily she returned the text: yes, thanks, false alarm.
I’m just finishing up here, how about that drink? meet me in the sports hall.
It was as much a command as a request and one she could hardly refuse. Jeff had after all kept her career alive even of it was currently on life support. She had to go. In fact, right at that moment she needed an ally more than anything else in the world.
—
Games master Jeff Andrews herded the players inside the changing rooms with congratulatory words and pats on the shoulders for both teams. The away team was a big bunch of bastards for teenagers, he reflected ruefully, after they’d trounced his boys 36-10.
It was only when he got back to his office that he realised his mobile phone was missing.
—
As Chloe Hunt arrived, the last straggler from the rugby match was meandering to the changing rooms. Following on, she looked in the indoor sports hall for Jeff. Strangely there was no sign of her fellow teacher. Wandering back out, she went to remove her mobile phone to text him when she barged into a hefty prop. She just about retained her balance, glaring back. “Excu-u-use me,” she said a little sarcastically, waiting hands on hips for an apology.
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