After School
Avery Sam
After School
by Avery Sam
Bookapy User License
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to Bookapy.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Monday
After Class
Wednesday
Picture Day
Photoshop
Mrs. Granger
Payday
Nut
Dating
Sweet
The Patriarchy
Say Cheese!
Gelato
Devil Girl
Needs
Larry
Nightgown
The Board
The Interview
My Tiniest Bikini
Butterfly Tattoo
An Impossible Situation
Mrs. Kurzweil
Effective Immediately
The Most Romantic Moment in a Person's Life
Fail-proof Test
Cigars
Irma
A Banner Day
Street Cred
Chocolate Cake
Convenience
Marlboro Reds
Prom Queen Wave
Perspiration Point
Housewarming
Nothing Odd or Weird
Guard Down
Nest Egg
To Catch a Predator
Babe
Burns
Dark Corners
A Golden Cage
Go Time!
A Quick Look
Glamorous?
Come to Jesus
Scared Little Smile
Quick Learner
The Messier, the Better
A Hallmark Movie
Dose
Hands On
Some Measure of Happiness
Monday
I swallowed nervously as the woman at the reception desk asked me for my transfer form.
"It's my first day here," I said, handing it to her.
"Well..." said the woman, quickly glancing at the form, "Emily, welcome to Cherish All-Saints. I trust that you've read over and signed all of the rules and regulations?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said, all smiles.
"Hmm, I don't know about that," said the woman, giving me a frown. "From where I'm standing, it looks like the skirt you're wearing is about a centimeter too short, and it is strictly prohibited to let any of your stomach show, so that's two violations already."
"Oh? Gosh, I'm sorry," I said. "Look, I just had my shirt tied up a bit because it's a warm day. Watch. See? All rolled down now."
"Hrmph," said the woman, giving me a long, critical look. "I suppose you made an effort. And it's your first day. I'll give you a pass on the skirt for today, but be sure to wear a longer one tomorrow, young lady."
"Thank you, I will," I said, doing my best to look meek and humble.
"Okay, here's your class schedule," said the woman, handing me a piece of paper densely crammed with rows and columns of information. "And here's a tardy slip so you don't get in trouble with your teacher on your first day."
"Thank you, ma'am. But may I ask a question?" I said.
"Yes?" said the woman.
"As you said, I don't want to make any trouble on my first day. Therefore, do you think you could give me a slip or paper that will protect me in case someone else says I'm not dressed according to code?" I said, giving the woman my sweetest smile.
"Why... that is a good idea, young lady. With that kind of attitude, I think you will do quite well here at Cherish," said the woman, writing out something on a special pad of red notepaper.
"Everyone here is so nice," I said, doing my best to be patient as I watched the woman write something on the note paper and then stamp it with three different stamps that she pulled out of a locked drawer.
"There you go," said the woman, and I made a hasty retreat from the reception area as soon as I had the red permission slip in my hand. Glancing down, I saw that I had "complete immunity" from any and all dress code violations.
Grinning to myself, I quickly made a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Opening the door, I saw that I had the space completely to myself. I then chose the furthest stall, closing the door behind me as I unslung my bag. After hanging the bag on the hook at the back of the stall door, I rooted around until I found what I was looking for - a pair of thigh-high black stockings.
Quickly, I kicked off my shoes and rolled on the stockings, relishing at their silky firmness as they slid over my feet, up my calves, and then on to mid-thigh. I then straightened the delicate little black bow at the top of each stocking until everything was perfectly in position. I then returned my shirt to where it had been, revealing my lovely flat stomach that I had worked so hard to maintain.
I then exited the stall and spent several minutes making sure my hair and overall look were to my satisfaction, putting on my game face the moment that I stepped out of the bathroom.
Glancing down at my class schedule, I followed the numbers until I found room 514 where I was scheduled to take a chemistry class with one Professor Darius Preston. But long before the door to room 514 came into sight, I could hear a masculine voice speaking in great dramatic tones, and I scurried forward to discover the source of that deep, rich timbre.
I arrived and saw that the door to room 514 was open, and so I was spotted the moment that I crossed the threshold.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" said the professor, whom I could only take to be Darius Preston.
Whatever his name was, the man was simply gorgeous. Aged somewhere in his early 30s, the professor was dressed in an elegant charcoal suit, his flashing green eyes set off by an elegant pair of glasses. Whether it was the thick sheaf of hair, the way his body so nicely filled out his suit, or the way he started staring at me so intensely, I instantly felt a magnetic charge shoot through me.
"I just transferred here, and it says I'm in your class," I barely managed to reply, a sudden weakness overtaking my knees.
"I see you have a red pass," said the professor, and some of the kids in the back ahh-ed and ohh-ed in response. "May I see it?"
"Yes," I said, feeling jittery as I handed it to him.
"Ahhh," said the professor after carefully studying it for several long minutes. "I see."
I just smiled in return, but I could not help but notice his eyes roving up and down all over my body, and that sent new shivers coursing through me.
"Very well, I am Professor Preston. Welcome to the class. Please, take a seat over there. Emily is it?" said the professor.
"Yes, that's right," I said as I took a seat, and that's when I noticed that nearly everyone in the class was staring right at me, some with a look of shock on their faces, but some with a strange mixture of anger and excitement that I found to be quite interesting.
"All right, let's continue where we left off," said Professor Preston, and for the next twenty minutes, I got to sit there and watch him as he led a masterclass on whatever it was that he was teaching about chemistry. The truth was that I understood almost none of what he was saying, but I was falling into a lovely trance just by watching him do his teaching thing.
Every time that Professor Preston so much as glanced in my direction, I felt a bolt of energy zap down my spine, and I relished every single microsecond of his attention. Slowly, I came to detect a pattern in Professor Preston's glances. First, his eyes would circle around near me for a few moments and then dart in for one hard look before spending the next few minutes completely avoiding me.
The fact that I knew that he was both looking at me and then telling himself not to look at me put a secret little grin on my face. That Professor Preston was clearly used to being the alpha stud teacher at this school, and he was used to every student swooning over him. But he had no idea what to do around a bad girl like me.
And I was loving every minute of it. Because I had big plans for Professor Preston.
Big plans...
After Class
After my class with Professor Preston went exactly as I had hoped, I made a quick dash to the girls' room where I stripped off my stockings, tugged down my skirt to the official length, and unrolled my shirt so that I was, more or less, in line with the dress code at my new school.
The rest of the day went by in a blur, one boring class after another. A few of the kids gave me strange looks, and I knew that they were talking about me and what had happened in Professor Preston's class, but I didn't care. In fact, the sooner that they all learned not to mess with me, the better.
The next morning, I began to enact my plan. First, I carefully altered the information on my red pass to give me another day of exemption from the dress code.
I then put on my first outfit, which was a skirt even shorter than the one I wore the first day as well as a cute little black halter top that amply showed off my stomach. I then braided my hair into two long strands, tying off the ends with little pink butterflies. I then tucked a pair of super cute lace-up heels into my bag.
Returning to my closet, I put on a rather shabby, long blue dress that went all the way to my knees as well as an ordinary pair of black flats. I then slipped on a fake pair of reading glasses with clear lenses. Glancing in the mirror, I had to laugh at myself because I looked like a dull, boring nerd.
My first two classes were with utterly forgettable teachers, one a dried-up old hag whose only interesting quality was the comical way her dentures whistled when she talked. The other teacher was in charge of a class called "Personal Development," and I never did quite ever figure out what that was supposed to mean.
As soon as second period was over, I dashed to the girls' room, and I quickly shucked off the ugly blue dress and tossed my fake reading glasses into my bag. I then put on a pair of super cute pink ankle socks and then slipped into my heels. After tugging and adjusting my skirt, I took a long look in the mirror, smiling to myself from seeing how well the transformation had gone.
With a confident grin on my face, I sauntered into Professor Preston's class, red pass in my hand, my skirt doing a lovely bounce on every upthrust of my hips, and I could feel the eyes of my classmates swivel as one as they tracked me to my seat, where I threw down my notebook with a loud smack and then fake giggled.
A burst of nervous laughter rang out in the classroom, and I grinned to myself as I saw Professor Preston rise to his feet, the anger on his face clear to see. "Settle down, people! Settle down!"
There were still a couple of minutes left before the bell rang, and I used that time to carefully adjust my legs so that they were pointing directly in Professor Preston's direction and my skirt's hem was strategically placed halfway up my thigh.
Once the class began, Professor Preston started out strong and confident, speaking at length about something to do with zygotes, but as I began slowly spreading my legs apart, I saw his train begin to fall off the track. A couple of times, he stopped mid-sentence and then would clear his throat, taking a long moment before resuming the lesson.
When I judged that the time was right, I then let out a small, nearly inaudible moan. I watched with delight as I saw Professor Preston stumble once more, his fingers clawing at the collar of his shirt, as he gamely tried to continue teaching the rest of the class.
Enjoying every second of what was going on, I then began to pretend to be writing in my notebook with one hand while I rested on my elbow with the other arm, that other hand surreptitiously and subtly squeezing and caressing my breast. Underneath the desk, I continued spreading and closing my legs, and I could feel how my skirt was riding up even further.
But it was I who nearly lost it when I saw, from four rows back, the clear sight of Professor Preston's boner straining against the thin fabric of his trousers. Looking around, I saw that I wasn't the only one who had caught sight of Professor Preston's erection, some kids watching mutely with wide eyes while others stared in amazement as if lost in a trance.
I was actually kind of hoping that Professor Preston would cum right there in his pants in front of everybody, but alas, he was saved by the literal bell. As the students rose as one to begin filing out of the classroom, I saw more than a few faces flush with either embarrassment or raw, naked lust.
"Emily, I'd like to have a word with you," said Professor Preston, causing several of the kids to ooh and ahh.
"Of course, sir," I said, meekly bowing my head as I gave him a curtsey, which caused the last few departing students to gawk and laugh.
Once the room was clear, and there was only him and I, Professor Preston turned to me and said, "Emily, my god... you are... such a special student."
"Yes, I am," I said, with a huge smile on my face. "But not quite the way that you think."
"Huh?" said Professor Preston, and I could see that his heart was racing. "I mean... yeah, I mean you are quite... gifted."
"How much cash do you have on you?" I said.
"What? I don't understand," said Professor Preston. "What's going on?"
"What's going on is you're going to give me every cent in your wallet if you don't want me to report your behavior to the school's administration!" I said, a menacing grin on my face.
"Why, that's preposterous," said Professor Preston, but any further elaboration was immediately cut off after I gave the bulge in his crotch a hefty whack.
"Cash. Now!" I said.
I had to restrain myself from laughing out loud as Professor Preston then meekly handed over a few limp notes from his cheap-looking wallet.
"See you tomorrow, Professor!" I said with a grin as I blew him an air kiss before turning and exiting the classroom.
Wednesday
Knowing that there is a limit on just how much you can poke a bear, I prepared very carefully for my third day at my new school.
First, I assembled a wardrobe that was the very definition of conservative: my hair down and unadorned and a long-sleeved brown dress that reached to my ankles. The front of the dress had three buttons, and all three were securely fastened so that I was not showing even the tiniest bit of cleavage. Add in some simple black flats, and not even the strictest administrator at school could find fault with my outfit!
Of course, I always keep at least one ace up my sleeve, cackling to myself as I shuffled out of my underwear. The fact that I was completely naked underneath that awful dress was something only I would ever discover, but at the same time, I knew that a certain very horny professor would sense it. And, just to help things along, I dipped a finger inside my warm, soft lips and spread a little bit of my natural perfume behind my ears and on the back of my neck.
Grinning to myself, I headed off to school, leaving my invaluable red pass behind. When I pushed my way through the school doors and began mingling with the other students, a few of them gave me curious glances, but I always ignore anyone who isn't a target. Besides, what did I care about their stupid opinions? I would be gone soon, and then they'd have the rest of their pathetic lives to gossip about me.
My first two classes went by in a blur of boredom, and then, at least, it was time for Professor Preston's chemistry class. Knowing that everything had to be just right, I waited until almost the last minute before entering his class and taking my seat. As with the day before, several of the students watched with eager excitement as I strode across the room, but now, without any bobbing skirt hems or low-cut tops to ogle at, their interest quickly diminished.
Looking up, I saw Professor Preston give me a long, quizzical look, but he didn't say anything until the bell rang. After that, he launched into another long lecture about some aspect of chemistry that I couldn't care less about, but it was clear from the rapt attention of the other students that Professor Preston was disseminating knowledge with his usual aplomb and brimming confidence.
When I judged the moment to be right, I began to slowly squirm and wiggle around in my chair, keeping my legs tightly closed. As the friction heated me up in that familiar, delicious way, I could feel my skin begin to warm, and soon, the sweet odor of my own personal nectar began wafting throughout the room. Looking around, I saw several girls with confused and curious expressions.
Professor Preston then began sniffing loudly, almost like a cocaine addict, and I laughed to myself as I saw my ministrations begin to take effect. I watched with delight as the skin on his neck grew red as his speech patterns began to falter, sometimes rushing through his words and other times, barely able to formulate a coherent sound.
It took all of my willpower not to grin every time I saw Professor Preston cast a furtive, hungry glance at me. It was obvious that he knew something was going on, but he was incapable of figuring out what it was. I then redoubled my squirming, rolling, and squeezing the insides of my legs together until I could feel the radiance of heat pulsing outward from my center.
Invisible, tiny micro-droplets of my dewdrops were now rising into the air, each one setting off a firestorm when breathed in by Professor Preston, and the fool had no idea what I was doing to him! Of course, the intense feminine energy that I was putting out was also turning me on, and I began to worry that I was going to leave a wet spot on my dress.
Fortunately, that's when the bell rang, and I allowed myself a grin when I saw Professor Preston jump at the sound, a thin sheen of sweat on his waxy face. But just when I was making my way out of the class, a woman wearing a rather garish blue pantsuit stopped me and identified herself as one of the vice-principals.
"Emily? Hi. I'd like to have a word with you," said the woman.
"Why, certainly," I said with my best fake smile.
"Professor Preston, can you close the door?" said the woman, and I watched with some trepidation as he closed the door once the last of the students had left.
"I understand there's been some.... uncertainty in the dress code here lately," said the woman, trying her best to give me an intimidating stare. But the only thing intimidating about her was the awful bra straps I saw poking through her cheap blazer.
"Why, whatever do you mean?" I said, favoring her with a meek little smile.
"Professor?" said the woman, swiveling her hawk's gaze in his direction.
"Well, uh... not today, no, of course. Ahem. But yesterday, several of the students reported that this young woman's appearance distracted them from the lesson," said Professor Preston, ignoring my gaze.
"Young lady, is this true?" said the woman.
"Oh! Oh! Is that where we're at, these days? Blame a woman for distracting a man because of what she was wearing? I had no idea that this school supported the victimization of women," I said.
"Professor Preston, we here at Cherish do not take accusations of this kind very lightly. Can you explain yourself?" said the woman, and I had to put my hand over my mouth in order to cover my grin.
"You see... it's that, well... I guess you could say her skirt was too short," said Professor Preston, and I laughed to myself as I watched rivulets of sweat drip down his forehead.
"I had a red pass, and the reason they gave it to me was because my skirt had a little rip. It's not my fault that pervert teachers think their nasty thoughts," I said with a little quiver in my bottom lip.
"For god's sake, you could see her panties, clear as day!" said Professor Preston, rising to his feet.
"Professor!" said the woman. "Sit down! And compose yourself, man. Look, I don't know what happened here in this class, but it needs to end."
"This is all so crazy," said Professor Preston, sinking back into his chair.
"Emily, do you feel safe continuing in Professor Preston's class? Because we can move you somewhere else," said the woman.
"Well, thank you for considering my needs," I said, the best sweet smile on my face. "But I think, if it's all right, that I'll continue on in his class. Despite his... lapse in judgment, he's a really good teacher, and I think I can learn a lot from him."
"Very well," said the woman before turning her attention back to Professor Preston. "Are you satisfied, Darius? Or do you want me to open an official inquiry?"
"No, no, we're good," said Professor Preston, looking utterly defeated.
"Thank you for being honest with me, Emily," said the woman.
"It was my pleasure," I said, giving her a very shiny and happy grin.
I then made my way out of the classroom as quickly as I could and then ran down the hallway to the girls' room so I could laugh myself silly. Here I was, on my third day, and already, I had Professor Preston right where I wanted him!
But what happened on the fourth day of school was even more hilarious.
Picture Day
On what was supposed to be my fourth day of school, I placed a sock over my phone to muffle my voice and called in sick even though I actually felt better than ever.
I knew that my absence after yesterday's confrontation with Professor Preston in front of a school official would have him rattled and confused. If he then went berserk and took out his frustration against his students or someone else in the school, then all the better for my plan.
Grinning to myself, I then hopped over to my wardrobe to begin selecting clothes for my first mission. First, I chose a simple skirt of modest length in pastel pink, and then I paired it with a plain white button-up shirt. I then brushed my hair and tied it up into two pigtails, causing me to grin as I watched in the mirror how the outfit and look all came together beautifully.
Checking my phone, I realized that I was running late, so I quickly made my way outside and over to the downtown area. Checking the information on my screen, it took a few minutes before I finally located my target, a discount furniture store.
Opening the front door, I had to suppress a grin at hearing the clank of a bell tinkle against the glass. This truly was the perfect place for what I had in mind, next.
I wandered around the huge, slightly dusty interior between acres of tables, dressers, kitchen sets, living room furniture, and beds until I finally reached the sofa section. Spread out before me were at least a hundred couches, a sad mishmash of different outdated styles. But it was just what I wanted.
"Help you, miss?" said the boy wearing a blue vest after finally looking up from his phone.
"No, thanks. I'm just browsing," I said, giving my best mind your own business stare.
"Whatever," said the guy, and although I had no desire to continue a conversation with him, I still found his dismissal quite rude.
Slowly, and as casually as I could, I made my way down the rows of couches until quite a distance separated me from the store employee. After carefully surveilling him out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he was lost in his phone. Perfect!
I then lowered myself onto the couch and held my phone up above me and took a couple of quick selfies. Examining the images, I was quite satisfied with the framing of them, so I sat up for a moment to quickly unbutton my shirt. I then opened my shirt just enough so that you could tell I wasn't wearing a bra.
I then laid back down on the couch and snapped off several more selfies, this time alternating between making scared and sad expressions as I used my other hand to try and shield me from the camera lens. Once I felt that I had gotten off enough shots, I put down my phone and quickly buttoned up my shirt.
Once I got to my feet, I glanced over and saw that the employee guy was still engrossed in his phone. As quickly as I could, I then smoothed out my hair and clothes before giving myself a once over using my phone as a mirror.
I then casually strolled over back to the center part of the store. Once I was out of the eyesight of the employee guy in the sofa section, I quickly walked my way to the entrance and then out into the daylight, exuberant that part one of my plan had gone so well.
For part two of my mission, I made my way down to one of the bigger parks in the city where there were plenty of benches, a spot clustered near a fountain and a running trail. I then stepped into the public toilet to change out of my furniture store outfit and into a neon orange sports bra and a tiny pair of white running shorts that just barely managed to cover my bottom.
After swapping out my shoes for something more suitable, I then began to scout around the benches to look for the perfect place to hide my phone so that the camera would have a clear view of the running trail. Finally, I saw a tall tuft of grass that seemed suitable, and I spent several anxious minutes setting up my phone to record, carefully examining which parts of the trail were covered by the camera.
Then, it was just a matter of doing some actual jogging up and down the trail. With those tiny white shorts and my slim figure, I definitely saw some people giving me quite a look, including one guy who somehow found a reason to jog past me three different times.
Carefully remembering the camera's field of view, I then stopped and did several long series of stretches, being sure to bend all the way over so that the camera would have a nice shot of my rear end. I then finished everything off by pretending to dab myself off with a towel and then drink some water until it "accidentally" spilled all down the front of my sports bra.
It took all of my willpower not to grin while I was doing all those poses for the camera, but once I was finished and had a chance to go through the footage, I had plenty of time to smile. With the tiny fronds of grass in the foreground, it really did look like someone had been secretly filming me.
To treat myself for how the first two parts of the mission went, I then went to a local cafe that had the most wonderful selection of fine teas and pastries.
Refreshed and energized after that, I was more than ready to complete the last two elements of my mission!
Photoshop
On the morning of what was supposed to be my fourth day at Cherish All-Saints High School, I had called in sick so that I could work on my secret plan to take down the arrogant Professor Preston. First, I had arranged to take a couple of photos of myself at a local furniture store, and then I had planted a hidden camera to record myself jogging and stretching in the park.
After a lovely lunch at my favorite cafe in town, I was ready to execute the final two parts of my plan. I headed home and fired up my laptop where I spent the next hour or so going through all of Professor Preston's social media posts. His constant grinning and consistently upbeat messages made me sick to my stomach, but fortunately, I found a few photos that were suitable for my mission.
Any image that I found where Professor Preston had his arm around someone else was ideal, especially if that someone was far shorter than he was. Also, any pictures of Professor Preston shaking hands or embracing someone else were saved in my special folder. I also copied a few photos where he had a big grin on his face.
Using an advanced editing program, I then went to work carefully snipping people out of the photos with Professor Preston. In some cases, I also removed the entire background as well. For the photos with him grinning, I enlarged and improved them until I had an image of him smiling like a demonic clown.
I then quickly stepped outside into the bright afternoon sunlight and set up a couple of timed selfies to catch me standing in front of a plain white wall. I made sure to have a sad or scared look on my face for every shot, and after about a dozen of those, I went back into my bedroom to review the results.
After I identified a couple of usable snaps, the real magic began. Slowly and painstakingly, I began doctoring the photos of Professor Preston to insert myself into them. One photo of "us" standing on a beach was particularly brilliant, in my opinion. With that manic, creepy grin on his face and his arm around me, the photo was incredibly convincing. Even I got a little spooked, and I was the one who put it together!
Laughing to myself once the work was all done, I closed down my editing program and then printed off two copies of the best of the "new and improved" photos of Dr. Preston. I then put each one into a separate envelope and then stashed them in my underwear drawer for later use.
Done with the third part of my plan, it was time for me to bring this day to a successful close, so I fired up a special Artificial Intelligence audio editing program on my computer, one that I had had to search for high and low on the dark web. Far more powerful than anything anyone else had, except for certain government agencies, the AI audio program was a genius at synthesizing voices.
All I had to do was feed it a few hours of audio of someone talking, and the AI engine would get to work. Since I had been recording everything at school since the first day, it was just a matter of transferring several large files from my device and then letting the AI engine digest them.
Forty-five minutes later, my computer dinged to let me know that the first phase was done. Now what I had to do was write a script for the computer to read in a perfect replica of Professor Preston's voice. Fortunately, that only took a few minutes. The rest was me calibrating the pauses and the volume.
Once I was done, I pressed "play" and then laughed to myself as I listened to "Professor Preston" say all of the things I had written. To my ears, it sounded pitch-perfect, and I doubted even his own mother would be unable to guess it wasn't him if she were talking to him over the telephone.
To wrap things up, I then fired up my video editing software and began going through all the stuff I had filmed earlier in the park. Grinning, I added just the tiniest bit of shake to the lens to add that extra touch of realism, and then I cut a ten-minute film that was all about stalking me in the park. Frankly, the quick zooms on my ass that I added whenever I'd bend over were pure genius.
After several long hours on the computer, everything was done. I now had all the digital pieces I needed to put my plan into action. For the next part, however, I needed to go old school. I then opened the bottom drawer of my desk and carefully pulled out an authentic vintage Polaroid instant camera.
Taking off my shirt, I then carried the Polaroid over to my bed, and I took several explicit photos of my topless self, being sure to get several of my left breast, which has a tiny but unique mole growing near the nipple. In every shot, I was very careful not to show my face, though. Finally, I tugged off my shorts and got a couple of shots of me lying there in bed in just my underwear, although it strained my arm like heck to maintain the right angle.
Whenever you take a photo with one of those instant cameras, it makes a loud whirr and then ejects a small rectangle of gray film. At first, there's no image, but if you wait a minute or two, the picture is revealed.
By the time I was finished taking my pictures, the whole bed was covered in them. And I grinned with delight as I saw several that were absolutely perfect for my plan. The rest, I scooped up and threw into a drawer after I put away the instant camera.
Reviewing the Polaroids I was going to keep, I truly had to laugh. Everyone knows that digital photos are easy to manipulate, but no one could ever deny that these were authentic! Buying that camera was one of the best decisions I had ever made, even if finding and securing film for it was expensive and difficult.
After tucking the Polaroids into their respective envelopes, I sat back and admired my handiwork. Truly, the day had gone magnificently well, and I had accomplished all of my goals. For that, I decided to celebrate, and so I treated myself to an ice-cold bottle of orange Fanta.
I was so giddy with anticipation that night that I could hardly sleep, the delight at imagining my plan in motion for tomorrow that I had quite a bad case of the giggles.
Mrs. Granger
On Friday morning on the first week of attending my new school, I woke up bright and early with a smile on my face. As soon as I hopped out of bed, I went through all of the "evidence" I had created yesterday, and I felt myself getting excited about the day ahead.
Going to my wardrobe, I carefully chose every aspect of my outfit. First, I carefully brushed out my hair and then set a simple white headband in place to show off my bangs. I then found a nice, light-blue dress that had a cute little Peter Pan collar and went well past my knees. I then stepped into some shiny black Mary Jane flats to complete the ensemble.
Glancing in the mirror, I smiled as I saw that I looked like a perfectly innocent angel. I also felt like one, too, since I was wearing a dowdy pair of underwear and a rather uncomfortable bra underneath the dress.
I then dashed out of the house and made it to school just in time for the first bell. As usual, the two morning classes went by in a blur, and I barely took any note of what the teachers were droning on about.
Third period was Professor Preston's class, so I made sure to get there nice and early so I could choose my desk, about halfway to the back and close to the windows. Professor Preston looked up when I entered, but his expression remained neutral, and he did not watch me as I made my way over to my seat.
Once the rest of the students had filed in and the bell had rung, Professor Preston got to his feet. Even from the distance where I was sitting, I could tell that his skin looked pale and waxy, and there were deep bags underneath his eyes as if he had not been sleeping well. Sure enough, Professor Preston's voice was gravely and somewhat shaky, and I had to repress a grin at seeing the terrible shape he was in.
"Right, so where were we? Ah, yes. The process of ionic bonding," said Professor Preston, and for several long moments, he droned on about his precious chemistry. Just when I felt like he was getting into a rhythm, I snuck my phone out of my bag and paged over to a specially prepared website where I hit the "send" button to put my plan into action.
<