“Trash your bra!”

“Ray, just throw this away for me, would you?” His eyes widened as she continued twisting buttons. She couldn’t look up but she could hear his breathing. She pulled the front of the blouse open; pushing it back from her shoulders, she let it drop to the floor, behind. She moved a step closer. “Please, Ray. Don’t say anything. Just throw this out for me.” Her hands went behind her back. The cups sprang forward and the cool air hardened her nipples. She slide the straps down and she bunched up the lace.

“So how much can you make as a porn-star”

"What!" Mrs. Andersen looked up; Darlene sat four desks away in the empty classroom. And she was flipping through a fashion magazine. Mrs. Andersen could see the images of the women. “You're supposed to be attending to your schoolwork.” She flt a black rage mushrooming up.

“Just askin'.”

Mrs. Andersen hammered her desktop with both fists. “You insolent little...” she almost said “bitch” but managed to bite off her words. She jumped to her feet, the chair bouncing back, and marched toward Darlene knowing full well that if she got her hands on the girl, she would tear every hair from her head. Then she saw the magazine up close.

Mrs. Andersen’s insides seemed to turn to slush and drain out though the soles of her feet. It was an old porn-rag but it was the issue number that burned into her retina: April Issue, No. 146. That magazine had to have been fifteen years old; she had never seen a copy, but Mrs. Andersen knew Miss April! Intimately!

It had been a stupid diversion. She was eighteen and a girlfriend wanted to audition; she went along for support. The girlfriend was beautiful; she wasn't. But the Art Director said she liked her wholesome looks. She was hustled into a studio and out of her clothes.

Darlene saw the falter. “Your husband must have been proud; you've got nice boobs.” Mrs. Andersen turned red. “Oh! You never showed him?” Darlene said with a sly grin. “I got some extra copies, if you'd like me to share with him. And I think Principal Daily and the School Trustees might enjoy some pussy.”

Mrs. Andersen choked on that. Darlene had not only threatened her professional life, but her private one as well. “You wouldn't,” she said scornfully. Darlene laughed and held up the center-spread. The photo was of a shy girl, as wholesome as one could be with their vagina hanging open; it was the glue they used. Mrs. Andersen turned away, sickened; walked back to her desk in a cloud of indecision. What to do? The thought of that magazine surfacing had haunted her for years. But nothing had happened... until now.

Darlene got up. Followed her. “Take off your jacket.”

“What? I'm not going to...” Darlene was quick; snapping up the ruler from the desktop. Mrs. Andersen tried to dodge the blow but her ear seemed to burst into flame and felt twice the size. Her mind was jumbled and she desperately wanted time to think. But worse, she felt defeated and reaching down, unbuttoned her jacket; threw it around the back of the chair.

“See. What I said?” Darlene ran her eyes over the front of Mrs. Andersen’s blouse. “You keep everything bottled up in those stogie suits. I need to take you shopping.”

Mrs. Andersen slumped back into her chair, still trying to sort out where all this was headed.

“Yeah,” Darlene continued, “we'll get you some cute little dresses. And some heels. The guys will love it.”

Mrs. Andersen had a vision of the boys in her class looking at her legs and felt a gush of warmth, just beneath where Darlene was measuring the weight and firmness of her breast in a cupped hand. Mrs. Andersen envisioned how the hemline would lift as she reached up to write on the blackboard.

“And a couple of those sheer blouses. God, there won't be a limp dick in the class.”

And Mrs. Andersen thought about that as well. Darlene leaned forward. “You've got great nipples,” and she tugged on each erect appendage through the lace of the bra. Mrs. Andersen quivered, hating the feeling of anticipation. There was a sound out in the hall and both women turned. Old Ray made his way into the classroom on arthritic knees, bowed by a childhood bout with the rickets.

“Just come for the garbage, Mrs. Andersen.” He smiled shyly.

Darlene's face lite up and she hastily scribbled a note; hit it with the ruler to show she was serious, and returned to her desk. Mrs. Andersen glanced at the paper; only three words. Numbing words. Ray bent down, picked up the tin and turned away.

God, I have to do this thing... “Ray?” Her voiced cracked. “Ray, there’s something else.”

He turned back. “Yes Mrs. Andersen? Something you need?” “Yes Ray. Hang on.” He stood politely as Mrs. Andersen got up on frail knees and moved to the front of her desk. Ray had a quizzical expression in his eyes as she twisted a button on her blouse. “Yes, Mrs. Andersen?” he asked again.

“Ray, just throw this away for me, would you?” His eyes widened as she continued twisting buttons. She couldn’t look up but she could hear his breathing. She pulled the front of the blouse open; pushing it back from her shoulders, she let it drop to the floor, behind. She moved a step closer. “Please, Ray. Don’t say anything. Just throw this out for me.” Her hands went behind her back. The cups sprang forward and the cool air hardened her nipples. She slide the straps down and she bunched up the lace.

When she raised her arm she could feel her breasts lift. He caught the movement and blushed. She guessed he liked what he saw. He took the warm bra from her hand and said he would take care of it. Then turned and left.

"Trash your bra!" the note had said.

Darlene was giggling, “Oh Mrs. Andersen that was so great. Wonder if he’s going to take it home to his wife?”

Oh he’ll be taking it home, Mrs. Andersen thought. She knew that Ray lived alone.

“Come here,” Darlene demanded after Old Ray had closed the door. “Stand by me.”

Mrs. Andersen took the four steps along the row of desks. The pressure in her chest was building; the thought of what might lay ahead was scary and tantalizing all in one. She stood next to where the girl was seated.

“I want to see your pussy,” Darlene said without emotion.

“Yes.” And Mrs. Andersen reached down and lifted the front to her skirt.
“Higher.”

“Of course.”

When Mrs. Andersen had the light woolen fabric bunched about her waist, Darlene reached up with both hands and took the woman's underpants down about her thighs. “You're still just as beautiful,” Darlene whispered, running fingers through the soft hair. She pinched the clitoris. “Ok. That's good.”

Darlene pulled Mrs. Andersen’s hands free of the fabric and smoothed her dress back into place but left the panties at mid-thigh. Darlene stood. “Stick out your tongue... no; flatten it.”

She took the woman's tongue between thumb and forefinger and gauged it like one does fine satin. “It's very soft,” Darlene said. “Come along with me, then. I find the school toilet paper awfully scratchy; don't you?”