Erin's Fantasies: The Schoolgirl

Erin Sommerset did her best to look much like your typical public high school principal. Her hair was always in a tight bun, her glasses had a thick black frame, and her makeup always leaned towards severe rather than cute or sexy. She wore professional clothing-suit pants, plain blouses, and matching blazers-and even if everything she wore fit well, it did nothing to flatter her figure. The one concession she made to her feminine side was her collection of three-inch heels. But then, that was more a matter of wanting that extra three inches, so that she could be at least a little closer to eye level than she was in flats.

And yet, despite her best efforts, Erin didn't look like your typical high school principal. Mostly, it was that she far younger than her actual twenty-five years of age. Her face still had that slight softness of youth that stayed even after all her babyfat had melted away, hiding her cheekbones and plumping out her lips. The strong prescription in her lenses made her green eyes look even larger, and they were already naturally big and round. Her hair was a was a bright, glossy red. Outside of the bun, it fell around her in waves rather than tight curls, and if not for her startlingly green eyes, splash of freckles on her cheeks, and healthy but pale skin, most would have been sure it was straight from a bottle. As it was, the jury was still out on whether the carpet matched the curtains. Worst of all though, she was short. Standing in heels, she could pass for 5'2.

She had given up counting the number of times she'd been mistaken for a student the first week of classes. The raised eyebrows and thinly pressed lips were worse though. When people looked at her, they didn't see a hardworking, gifted young woman with a Bachelors in Secondary Education and a freaking Doctorate in Educational Administration. They didn't see the days and nights spent studying, researching new methods outside of her college courses. They didn't see the stellar job she'd done with her student teaching job in a school best known for its number of gun related incidents.

Instead, they saw a little girl worming her way into their boy's club, her naive head filled with new age, touchy-feely nonsense about how best to run a school that didn't have a lick of application in the real world. It was enough to make her grind her teeth. Which, according to her dentist, was something she should stop doing quite so vigorously.

Today had been especially vexing. First, during the morning duty watching the students enter the building, a parent dropping off her child had pointed out that she wasn't dressed in uniform. Before lunch, the meeting with the School Board had been excruciating, with unanimous votes against funding all of her after-school initiatives. Worst of all, in 6th period there had been a call of a disturbance in the elderly Mrs. Abernathy's classroom. Two boys had gone from shouting increasingly descriptive profanity at one another to thrashing and fighting on the ground by the time she made it to the room.

There was a crowd of students surrounding the two boys, too dense-and tall-for her to see just what was happening, "Back to your seats, now!" She put as much of an edge into her voice as she could, but the students were slow to comply. Only a handful went back to their seats, but they did at least give her the space to make it through.

It took her a few seconds to recognize the two students with their faces twisted up in rage, but she'd memorized the entire student body within her first two weeks and their names floated up within her mind. Marcus and Daniel. Both were on the football team. That was her leverage, "If you two don't stop that this instant, neither of you is going to be playing in another game this season." She said calmly.

They ignored her. Marcus was choking Daniel, Daniel was driving his elbow into Marcus's ribs.

"I said, if you two don't stop fighting right now, you're off the football team!" Louder this time, enough that her voice started to crack.

Still they ignored her. She heard several students behind her giggle and chuckle. She took in a deep breath, prepared to scream at the top of her lungs...

...and then Charles entered, "Shut up and sit down!" His deep baritone came out in a wave over the classroom, pushing down every other sound and freezing everything for a long second before students hurried to their seats in a rush. Satisfied, he turned to the two boys, frozen like deer in the headlights. Both were still on the ground, but had their gaze fixed on him and neither was moving.

"Up. Get up!" They flinched in unison, then slowly rose up from the ground, the look on their faces saying that they'd have rather melted into the floor.

Charles Haydon stood at even height with the taller of the two senior boys, which meant he was head and shoulders taller than Erin. He didn't play football or lift weights every day, but he had the body of a man who was used to working with his hands, which made sense because he'd built houses for twenty solid years before becoming the Industrial Arts teacher a year ago. The work under the hot Texas sun had given him a permanent tan and a casual but stone solid strength. The way he carried himself, the way he spoke...no one in the room had any doubt that if the two hadn't stopped their fight, he would have done it for them.

"You should have listened to the lady." He said. Erin hoped she was the only one who had caught the slight catch in his speech before he'd said 'lady'.

She gave a huff, approached, mouthed a silent 'thank you,' to Charles, then spoke up to the classroom, sending the boy with one rapidly swelling eye-Daniel-to the nurse with two escorts, making sure Marcus was sent to his coach's office, that both of their mothers were called to come in, and that the class could settle down from the excitement. That last she didn't quite manage before the bell rang.

All in all, it had been an exhausting day. Back on evening duty, she was glad to see the last of the buses drive off. The student parking lot empty, she leaned herself against the wall and let out a sigh, trying to work the mental tension out of her system as her eyes slowly closed. She started thinking of tomorrow. A budget meeting, a presentation to the faculty on the importance of maintaining a consistent and stable discipline code...speaking with two angry parents about why their son had been in a fight. Lovely, just...

"Sleepy?"

For a big man, Charles could move very quietly. He'd said it was the years of hunting in the woods, but she wasn't so sure. She kept her eyes close as she relaxed, but she put in as much coldness in her voice as she had used in the classroom today, "You very nearly called me 'little lady' today, didn't you?"

"Guilty." The answer was warm, hiding a laugh he had too much control to let go of.

Erin punched Charles in the shoulder. Playfully. He'd made it clear that when she wasn't so playful she had very bony and sharp fists, "Bad enough you called me 'lady'. It's Ms. Somerset, or better yet...Principal Somerset."

"Are you sure you would prefer Madam Somerset? Her Majesty, Queen Somerset?"

She couldn't help but smile as he said it all in that comfortable southern drawl, "Maybe. Has a certain ring to it."

"As you wish, my little princess." He was grinning like any youth, though decades of mirth had etched laugh lines along his eyes.

That did earn him another punch, not nearly so playful, "You big dumb..." She cracked, and a giggle bubbled out. Less than a minute in his company and the day seemed a lifetime away, forgotten. Now that the students were gone and she was alone with Charles, she found herself smiling with anticipation. Yesterday, he had said he had something planned for afterschool.

He handed her a tote bag. It wasn't empty, it had a small bulge of clothing and the heft promised a pair of shoes, "I've few minutes of computer work I need to do online, so I'll be waiting in your office. Don't come in till you dress up." His voice was warm and casual like before, but she heard the promise of more under it, his own excitement sending butterflies into her stomach.

"What's inside-"

He cut her off with a kiss that lasted less than a breath, but carried a wave of intensity behind it, then pressed a finger to her lips, which she nibbled without thinking, "Nothing special, but I think you'll like it." And then he was gone, heading back into the school. She waited a few dozen rapid heartbeats before following. It was a small town. She wasn't exactly half his age, but she was just young enough to be his daughter. That and being his boss...she didn't like thinking of what people would say.

She felt like a kid on Christmas morning as she followed after him, a dumb grin plastered across her face. As she approached the main office, she saw one of the janitorial staff, a very pleasant, older black woman she liked to chat with on occasion during lunches and breaks. When you were closer in age to the students than most of the faculty, making friends wasn't the easiest thing in the world. Being the boss made it that much harder. But Mrs. Thurman hadn't minded at all, and she always had an open ear and a friendly smile. Friend or not though, it wasn't like she had told her about Charles. The stupid grin on her face took on a "deer in the headlights" aspect to it, her heart pounding hard all the while.

Mrs. Thurman returned the smile with her own, along with an easy laugh and a delighted look in her eyes that couldn't be just about making the rounds emptying the trash in the school. Erin felt her cheeks warm. She didn't slow down to talk and just kept walking, her back rigid, all the way to the main office. She'd mentioned to her that she was seeing someone, had even asked for advice on a few occasions...but was it really that obvious?

She slinked into the main office, a large reception area, with three adjoining rooms: The nurse's office, the Counselor's, and hers. She let the door shut just a little too hard, jumping at the noise, then gave herself a mental kick for being so skittish. Inside, the lights were out, illuminated only by the large windows to the hall, and she could see the lit outline of her office's door, where her he was waiting.

She turned into the nurse's room and locked the door behind her, then let herself calm down. The room was smaller than her own, but it had a cozy and safe feel to it, even a small twin size bed for those who weren't feeling well. She flipped the light on, took a seat, then dumped the contents of the tote bag onto the bed.

"What...the hell...?"

Out tumbled a new outfit. Black Mary Jane with a flat heel and a wide point. A pair of socks that, once she rolled them out, looked like they would go most of the way up her thighs. A pleated red and black skirt with the kind of ridiculous hemline that meant she'd still be flashing a slice of bare leg even with the socks. And the top. It was more lingerie than blouse, fitting snugly around her chest, with a six-inch tie nestled between her breasts and enough of her stomach exposed that she was sure she would die on the spot if anyone saw her. Last, but not least...two ribbons for her hair, both a garish shade of pink.

In other words, a sick pervert's idea of a Catholic schoolgirl's uniform. Part of her wanted to storm into her office and start punching him in the arm, in the same spot, as hard as she could, for the next week. Just a small part. The larger part of her was biting down on her lip with anticipation.

Getting dressed didn't take more than a few minutes, and when she checked herself in the small mirror, she couldn't help but laugh into her hand. She looked ridiculous. Freed from its bun, her red hair now fell into two puffy pigtails. After giving it some thought, she washed her face in the sink, rubbing off the makeup of a strict professional, then applying a thin new layer. Just a bit of eyeshadow, blush, and a layer of shiny pink lip gloss she'd had in her purse since two years ago, back when she was still a student getting her Doctorate. Combined with the rest of the outfit, she could hardly recognize herself. She looked like her younger sister. Her much younger sister. Her much younger, shameless hussy of a little sister.

She left her normal outfit folded neatly on the bed, then peeked her head out. The coast was clear. She scurried the fifteen feet to her office, then pulled at the handle. It didn't budge. It was locked. Unbelieving, she twisted at the handle for a brief moment just to make sure.

"Charles! You locked me out! Hurry up before someone walks by...!" She had her back to the door, and she was sorely tempted to hurl herself behind the reception desk.

"Say the magic words." She could hear him just on the other side of the door. Even when he teased her, his voice still had that deep, steady calm to it.

"Please open the door!" She wasn't in the mood to argue. As soon as she was inside, she'd give him hell, but first thing was first.

"Good girl. Did you like the outfit?"

She pounded her fist once against the door, "Open the door! Now! I look ridiculous."

"In a minute. First, I just wanted to go over the rules of the game we're about to play. You're Emily, a precocious, promiscuous little slut who has been causing a world of trouble. I'm Principal Haydon, the strict but fair authority figure determined to get you back on the straight and narrow."

"Sure, sure. Whatever!"

"Right, that's exactly the kind of sass you need. Now...the latest offense you're being sent to my office for is a for inappropriate dress. Not only did you try to wear that absolutely scandalous outfit...but you weren't even wearing any panties under it."

Erin choked, "Y-you want me too...?"

"Just slide them under the door, and we can get started."

Erin beat against the door with the back of her head three times. She should be outraged, frustrated, embarrassed as hell. She should march back to her regular clothes, get dressed, and leave him hanging. She should never have started dating such an infuriating man in the first place! Should, should, should. Instead, she wiggled out of her panties, crouching down low in the process, then pushed them through the crack in the door. As she did, she noticed for the first time that they had been sticky with dampness.

There was a click. Footsteps. The groan of her leather chair, "Come in, Miss Sommerset."

Her butterflies came back, stronger than before, as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Charles was sitting at her desk, hands clasped in front of him. She wasn't the only one playing dress-up, it seemed. Normally in jeans and red flannel, right now he was in a sharp suit and tie that fit him well, not hiding the thickness of his arms or the broadness of his shoulders, but adding a layer of intangible aura of power against his very real, very physical strength.. Curly brown hair had been combed back., and his horn-rimmed reading glasses. His easy going face was doing its best to look cold, angry, and stern...and succeeding more than she thought it could. Her butterflies fell into a pit that started trying to eat the rest of her stomach.

"Have a seat." Her eyes went wide. His southern accent was gone. Instead, she heard his deep baritone come out clipped, tight, with a sharp edge that made her obey almost before she had time to think.

She checked one last time that the door was well and truly locked, then sat herself in the small wooden chair in front of the desk. It was a good sized office, if anything a little too big, thanks to her predecessor. Aside from the large, solid oak desk, there were three plain wooden chairs across from the desk. The back wall held accolades-right now, it looked rather empty with just her two diplomas and administrative license-two other walls had well-filled bookshelves, and the last wall had an old but ridiculously comfortable couch long enough that she could lay flat along it. The seat of the three other chairs in her office rested a half a foot lower than her own, something that gave her a bit of comfort whenever she had any meetings. Now, it felt like she was falling back in time. A primal part of her was screaming I'm in trouble! while the more rational part screamed Shut up! Shut up! over and over.

She smoothed her skirt down against her thighs, trying to coax just another few millimeters of length. It was ridiculous. He had seen her naked plenty of times before, but the thought of him seeing between her thighs now was too much for her to handle.

"Now...Miss Sommerset, if you think I'll allow a student of mine to walk these halls dressed like a tramp, you've got another thing coming. What do you have to say for yourself?"

She swallowed, wilting under his dark eyes, "I...I'm very sorry, sir..." It squeaked out, nothing at all like the ringing voice she was used to, that could cut through a whole classroom of chatter.

Charles leaned back against his chair, then let out a sigh, holding his hand to his forehead as he slowly shook his head, "Jeez, princess...not like that." His accent was back, as thick as ever, the change so fast she thought she might feel a bit of vertigo, "Right now, you're the haughtiest, most disrespectful, bratty little cocktease in the whole school. You know you're in trouble, but since you're just so goddamn cute, you think you can get away with murder."

He cleared his throat, taking it from the top, "Now...Miss Sommerset, if you think I'll allow a student of mine to walk these halls dressed like a slut, you've got another thing coming. What do you have to say for yourself?"

She fidgeted as she tried to think of an answer. She pouted, something she'd done an awful lot in highschool but had quit once she'd 'grown up', "This is embarrassing! Look, I'm...let's just go home. Okay?"

This time, he didn't break character. Instead, he slammed down a yardstick-her yardstick-on the desk, cracking the air louder than a bullwhip and making her jump so much she nearly fell over in the chair, "Young lady...if you aren't going to take this seriously, you're going to just make things that much worse for yourself." Again, that new voice, only this time with a bit of heat to it.

She glanced at the door. Mrs. Thurman was still somewhere in the halls, along with who knew who else, "Don't! That isn't...someone might hear!" She hissed it out in a stage whisper, even if thirty feet and two walls separated her voice from the hall.

Charles stood up from the chair and leaned forward, his hands resting on the desk as looked down at you, "I don't think I like your tone. Last warning...if you don't start to behave, you're not going to be able to sit down for a week."

She realized she was pushing herself back against the chair as he met her with those eyes, her own dropping to the floor as a flash of panic sent her pulse fluttering. Charles was lean, but with wide shoulders and standing at more than six and a half feet, he had the strength to handle her more like a toddler than a teen. Despite that, he had never been anything but gentle in the bedroom. She had gotten used to the bear of a man soon after they had started dating, but now she was remembering how she first saw him. The thought of him lifting her up, laying her over his lap, and then...

Erin's thighs squeezed together. She liked this new side of him. She smiled, not the dumb grin from before, not the crisp, professional look she wore day to day, but a teasing, coy smile, full of false promises and mischief, "I'm sorry, sir...but surely you wouldn't punish me for wanting to show my appreciation to the faculty, would you?" She began to curl the tip of one puffy pig tail around her finger, as she'd seen more than a few girls in the hall do, "I just...really can't help it, you know? I have all these confusing urges and...ah...hormones in my body lately." Her voice was pitched a little higher, trying to get in character. It wasn't till after she stopped talking that she realized that the slightly deeper voice she used normally was the odd one, a voice she'd picked up in the year on the job. She leaned towards him from her seat. She didn't exactly have a fat chest, but she wasn't a child either. She felt her cleavage go deeper as her breasts swung forward within the top, "And...and the truth is, sir...I've always had a crush on you."