From the moment Gina strutted into the classroom, I knew she would be trouble. I also knew I had to have her.
As it happened, the day I met Gina was my very first day as a substitute teacher. I was to be teaching at St. Vincent’s, which was an all-girls Catholic school. I had been warned that the girls there were famous for being incorrigible teases, who made it their job to create as much sexual tension as possible for any male substitute who was unfortunate enough to be assigned to them. The school had made an effort to correct the situation by hiring only female substitute teachers, but what they didn’t know was that I was bisexual. Not only that, but I have a serious schoolgirl fetish; I love the way they manage to exude such raw sexuality through supposedly demure and proper outfits.
I believe that whoever designed the look of their uniforms was most certainly male. I love the way their crisp, white blouses cling to the curves of their young, perky breasts, and how the bolder temptresses constantly hike up their skirts to reveal more and more of their sexy, smooth legs. And those thigh-highs! I love the contrast between the top of the stocking and the emerging thigh, which provides an enticing clue to what lies just above.
On this particular day, I was dressed in my most “no nonsense” uniform- a perfectly pressed white blouse, black pencil skirt which ended just above my knees, and a pair of low-heeled shoes. My long, wavy brown hair was pulled back into a polished up do, and I wore only the slightest bit of makeup; jet-black eyeliner to make my gray eyes stand out, a touch of blush to give my cheeks slight color, and pale pink lipstick. I decided against wearing any perfume, and had instead rubbed a feminine rose-scented lotion into my skin after my shower that morning.
As I breezed into the classroom with my black briefcase tucked under my arm, I thought I was ready for anything. I was determined to be entirely professional, as I didn’t want to risk losing my newly-acquired job, especially on my very first day! I knew this would take a great deal of self control, however, because I was assigned to a classroom of girls who were in their last year, i.e. 18 and completely legal. I had to resist temptation.
“Good morning girls, my name is Miss Kay,” I announced, surveying the classroom. I immediately noticed that there was an empty seat. Just as I was about to ask who was missing, an attractive young girl flounced into the room, sat down heavily in her seat, and gave me in haughty look, arms folded across her chest, as if daring me to reprimand her. I rose to the challenge.
“And your name is…?” I asked.
“Gina, please go to the office and get a late slip.”
“But I’m not late!” she protested, rising from her desk and placing her hands firmly on her hips. There were muffled whispers around the room as the rest of the girls undoubtedly wondered how I was going to handle the unruly student.
“All right then” I countered, “Instead of going to the office and getting a late slip, you can stay for detention with me after school for being late AND giving me attitude.”
The room was silent as the girls eagerly waited for a response. I had put on a fearless face, but I was quaking inside. Not only was this girl unwavering in her effort to challenge my authority, she was absolutely stunning.