It was in mid-July when I got the call. A couple of years ago a new high school had been built, and the decision had been made to tear the old one down and let someone build an apartment complex on the old grounds. However, the superintendent of schools wanted me to go through the building and take photographs of interior before it was razed. There were some murals and mosaics he especially wanted photographed along with some "mood" pictures of the abandoned hallways and offices.

We came up with a suitable time when he would meet with me to go through the building with me so that he could show me what was to be photographed. When I inquired about my fee, he hemmed and hawed, then bluntly asked me what I wanted. I knew there were some old lockers in the locker room that would make a great senior picture prop and maybe some odds ends. He was happy with the price, as it meant nothing had to come out of his budget, and he knew it was mostly junk in there, anyway. A little fix up and paint I'd have a fairly unique set for a couple of years.

I called Lou, my on-again, off-again assistant and full-time girlfriend and she agreed to come out after the superintendent left. It seems he and she were old acquaintances from back when she went to school there and he was the principal. Let's just say that she was not a model student and let it go at that! She also wanted to look around and see if there were any souvenirs she might like to pick up.

The agreed-upon date was a bright and warm day, but not nearly as bad as it could have been for late July. The superintendent and I arrived within a couple of minutes of each other about mid-morning. He had a number of keys on a ring, and used one of them to open the main doors. The hallways echoed hollowly when one of the doors banged against the wall. Despite the warmth outside, there was a certain chill in the air of the old building.

The water and electricity were still on, according to the superintendent, and the school board had decided to try to gather anything that was still lying about for an auction in August or September. It sounded fine by me, and he let me know that they had not done an inventory, but whatever I wanted to take out at the end of the day would be mine, no questions asked. He then proceeded to show me around and to tell me what he wanted. After about an hour, we were back at the main entrance to the school.

"OK, Jon," he said. "I think you know what I want in the way of pictures. Any questions?"

I shook my head. "OK, then," he continued, "here is a key that should open all in the interior doors so you can go to those classroom and office pictures. Be sure I get it back tomorrow." He hesitated a moment. "Also, be sure you don't leave the building until you're done. I can't give you a key for the exterior doors." And, with that admonition, he turned, walked down the hallway and out the door.

No sooner had he gone, I turned and heard a giggle. "He never did figure out how I could get back into the building after I had left in the mornings." Suddenly, there was Lou, right in front of me. Her voice turned serious; "I could come and go whenever I wanted, because I had my own entrance. It's still there and it still works!" There was a note of triumph there.

"I'll bet you did," I said. She came running up to me and jumped into my arms, her legs wrapped around my waist. She slid down and just stood there. I held her slim form for a couple of minutes and I kissed the top of her head. She leaned back a little, reached her right hand up and behind my head and kissed me thoroughly. I could feel my toes curl in my tennies. She ended the kiss and laughed.

As she pulled away and turned around, I was able to see what the shadows had hidden before. Today, she was dressed for the warmer weather with a very light black tank top and short-shorts with lots of pockets in them. How light was that tank top? Light enough for me to be able to see she had neglected to wear a bra. Her tits wobbled beautifully under it and hr nipples threatened to poke someone's eyes out! As she walked away from me, I also got any eyeful of just how short those shorts were; they were just long enough to qualify as shorts and not panties. In fact, a little bit of her lovely cheeks peeked out with every step she took. Every step was the poetry only women's hips can achieve. I found I was following those hips like a little lost puppy.

She walked down the hallway, looking into classrooms until we came to the first project, a mural done in mosaic tile, made by the class of '25. It was a picture of the world, set against a black sky filled with stars. It was too bad that it couldn't have been disassembled and put into the new school. That had been tried, but some of tiles, homemade by the students, started to crack and break as soon as any pressure was brought to bear. There was still some talk of taking the whole wall, but the superintendent wanted a picture in case it couldn't be done. It was height of irony that this mural, made so long ago, could stand up to students bouncing off it as a part of daily student life, would crumble in the act of saving it.

Lou looked at it and said, "We all wondered how they could so accurately portray the world without having seen any of the pictures the astronauts made. It's always been so beautiful."

I agreed with her, and I told her I had to get started if we wanted to finish before dark. I went to a side entrance nearer to where I parked my van and had her hold the door while I got the necessary gear from it. We stacked it in the entrance, allowing the door to close and I picked up a camera, a tripod and some portable strobes and headed down to the first assignment.

There, I set up the lights facing away from the mosaic. I did a couple of test shots and adjusted the lights so that they did not glare onto the tiles. We wanted to be sure that the mosaic came out in all its glory. I moved down a hallway in front of the mosaic. I took a couple of pictures with the strobes, and then turned them off. I also wanted some pics with ambient, or available, light. It would be the same with the other murals and I certainly would not be using strobes for the "mood" pictures. Lou was instrumental in moving the lights where they would do the most good. She also had one of my cameras, so she was taking less-traditional angles while I got what the client wanted. Of course, I'm not psychic, so who really knew what the superintendent would want to get posted on the school's website.

After the murals, I took my camera and headed for the upstairs halls, opening doors and setting up pictures from the ends of the hallways. I even took some in the stairwells. I asked Lou to work on the downstairs, including the gym and the auditorium, and I told her I would do the offices last.

We had been working for several hours, and I found myself in the principal's office. It had large desk and matching chair that was really very nice. I found myself being a little envious of it. I walked around it, rubbing the beautiful hardwood surface. It had a leather blotter built into its center. I had taken a few pictures of it from several angles, including out in the outer offices. I was standing there, my back to the doorway, looking out at the trees outside the office. It was really a shame that all of this would be torn down in a few months.

"Mr. E?" I heard a small voice behind me, a little girl's voice. I didn't turn around. "Mr. E?" it repeated. "Mrs. Johnson told me I should come and see you. I don't think she likes me."

I turned at that, and promptly sat in the chair behind the desk, stunned. There, in the doorway to the Principal's office stood Lou, hands behind her back, looking down at her shoes, her right foot pawing at the floor in little half-circles. The late afternoon sun was streaming in, golden, behind her from the main office area beyond her, putting her almost in silhouette. But, she was no longer in her short-shorts and tank top. In their place was a mid-calf length skirt, and I couldn't believe my eyes, a genuine cheerleader sweater. The skirt looked like something from the early '50's, with wide pleats of contrasting maroon and gold, the school's colors. The sweater matched, with a large "C" in the center of the chest and a megaphone beneath it.

I looked closer and saw that she had on white sneakers and bobby-socks, for goodness' sakes! Where had she found it all? Completing the look, she'd done something with her hair, and, from where I sat, stunned, I could swear I saw a couple of barrettes holding her hair in place!

I took a deep breath and sighed. I didn't know where this might be going, but it might be very interesting. Lou had a very active imagination. If she wanted to play a game, who was I to not play along?

"Come in and have a seat, Miss LaRue." No wonder Lou hated her name. How would you like to be named "Lulu Annabelle LaRue"? Lulu LaRue? Some parents are just cruel. "Please tell me why she sent you down this time. Were you late again?"

"Maybe," she temporized, drawing out the syllables. Damn! That little girl voice was really starting to get to me.

"That's four times this week you've been late to class, three times for Mrs. Johnson. What do you have to say for yourself?" I was trying to be stern.

"Well..." she said, unsure of herself.

"Was it a meeting with some girls that made you late?" I asked, trying to be helpful.

"Noooo..."

"Did a teacher hold you up and make you late?"

"Noooo..."

"Then it must have been a boy." I said. "What is his name?" I asked, resignedly.

"Tommy Geezus," she blurted. Her eyes went wide, her hands to her mouth.

"Tommy Geezus, eh?" I said, leaning back in the chair. I templed my fingers, index fingers tapping against each other, as if I was lost in thought. I was, wondering where this was leading. "And, just what were you doing with Mr. Geezus that made you late for Mrs. Johnson's class?"

"Uh, talking?" she said, making it a question.

"Just talking, eh? And if I get Tommy in here, would he say the same thing? Was he late for class, also?" So many possibilities here.

"Well, we were real close to his class, so he wasn't late. Honest, all we did was talk!"

I pretended to think about this. After a moment, I said, "Why don't we bring Tommy to the office to verify what you say?" I started to reach for the imaginary telephone on the desk.

Her eyes went wide again. "Oh, no! Don't call Tommy down here! If you do, I'll never get a date with him!" Lou was playing this very well. I knew she didn't like the jocks in high school; they were far too narcissistic for her. This was very much play-acting for her; she was a cheerleader in this little play, and cheerleaders liked jocks. She rushed up to the desk and leaned on it facing me.

"I'll tell you, just don't call Tommy to the office!" she cried. She wiped her eyes for effect. "We, we were under the stairwell near the chemistry labs. We, we were kissing!" She said between sobs.

Those stairwells were notorious even when I went to school here. That was where Betty Jo Thompson supposedly got pregnant back then. She was a pretty hot cheerleader, too.

"Is that all you did? Kiss?" I asked.

"No..." Suddenly, the little girl voice was back again.

"What else?" I asked.

"Tommy put his hands..." she trailed off.

"Where?"

"Do I have to tell you?" she whined.

"Yes," I said, determination in my voice.

"He ... he put his hands on my boobies!" It came out in a rush.

"So, he put his hands on your breasts over your sweater. That's not too bad," I said.

"No..." she said, looking at the floor.

"No, he didn't touch your breast or, no, he didn't touch them over your sweater?" I demanded.

"No, he didn't touch me over my sweater," she said.

"Then how did he touch you?" I roared.

She flinched. "He put his hands under my sweater and touched my little boobies."

"Over your bra, then, I take it?" I asked.

The little girl was back when she whispered, "No..."

"Then ... where, how?" I began. It dawned on me. "Are you wearing a bra today?" I breathed.

The naughty little girl was there. "No," she said, very proudly.

"You mean to tell me that you're not wearing a bra and you let a boy touch your, um, your..." I was sputtering.

"Boobies?" she said, brightly, trying to be helpful.

"Your breasts," I corrected. "Is that what you're saying? Are you trying to end up like Betty Jo Thompson?" I was getting loud.

"Who?" she asked, not knowing.

"A cheerleader who had to leave school because she let a 'dreamy' football player feel her up in that stairwell. She took it a bit further and got herself pregnant. She now has four kids and three grandkids and is as big as a house!" I glared at her. She, for her part, looked appropriately sheepish. "I think maybe we should call your father and have him come in so we can discuss what punishment might be appropriate."

"Oh, Mr. E!" she wailed. "Please, don't call my daddy. He'd be so disappointed in me. I'll do anything, accept any punishment, just don't call Daddy!"

"Anything?" I rejoined. This could be fun. "It will involve a paddle, a 'board of education', if you will."

"Oh, anything, just don't call Daddy, please," she was really pleading now. I expected her to go to her knees any minute.

"All right," I said. "I won't call your father. We'll make the punishment fit the crime. You wait here, and we'll take care of your punishment after school. You won't have long to wait."

I got up and moved to the door and out into the office. I wanted to make sure we really were alone, and so I went through several of the corridors, checking the exterior doors to make sure they were closed and locked. I also checked one particular room, and sure enough, hanging on a hook by the chalkboard, there was an old-fashioned school paddle, complete with drilled holes to improve aerodynamics. I grabbed it, and headed back to the principal's office. I also went to my equipment bags and got some items from them.

I hurried. There was no telling if the role Lou was playing would be there when I returned and I didn't want it to end, at least not yet. When I arrived, Lou was standing there, gazing out the window. I don't think she heard me as I approached and took her by the shoulders. She leaned back into me and relaxed.

"This place brings back too many memories," she said. "Not very many good ones," she added with a sigh.

"Then let's make some new memories to replace the old," I replied. I turned her to me. I kissed her soundly and she responded, her body melting into mine.

"Where did you find that old cheerleader's outfit?" I asked when we came up for air.

"It was in some old lockers near my 'secret' entrance," she said. "You'll like the lockers; they're much bigger than the new ones, about six feet tall and packed with lots of neat stuff! I can show you."

"Later," I said. "Right now, you're here for some punishment!" I raised the paddle so she could see it.

"Oh, no, Mr. E.! You couldn't. You wouldn't," she cried in her little girl voice, getting back into her role. "Please Mr. E.! I'll be a good girl, I promise!"

I put the paddle on the desk. "Let's review, shall we? You said you and Tommy were kissing and he put his hands ... Where did you say?"

"On my boobies," she said brightly.

"On your breasts, under your sweater, right?" She nodded. I turned her away from me and slid my hands under her sweater. She was warm. Incredibly hot, really. Her breasts molded to my hands, her nipples softened and springy. "Like this?" I asked.

She sighed. "Oh, yes, Mr. E. Just like that. Ooh, I get all shivery when you do that!"

I was pinching her nipples and rubbing her breasts. I continued this for a couple of minutes, eliciting some very satisfying moans from her lips. I was nuzzling and nibbling her ear lobes and neck all the while.

Soon, I was rewarded with her grinding her delectable ass back against my groin. Her moans were becoming mews and groans of pleasure. This was my intent, as I knew just how sensitive her breasts were. After about ten minutes of this, I wanted something more. I turned her around again, my hands still under her sweater, but now on her back.

"This has to go," I declared, and grabbed the hem of the sweater and started dragging it up over her body. It hung up for a moment on the underside of her tits, and they sprang forth, delightfully wobbling. I bent down and captured one in my mouth, sucking on the nipple. This garnered me a deep moan, but I could feel her struggling with the sweater, trying to pull it over her head. Finally, she succeeded in pulling it off and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it land on the corner of the desk. I heard the tinkle of metal on tile and assumed that one of the barrettes had come loose from her hair and landed on the floor.

I wasn't given any time to consider this, as both of her hands came and held my head to her breast. Shortly, those hands were directing me to the other breast where I continued to suckle and gnaw on the nipples. My hands, holding her by her hips, held her in place in front of me. I leaned against the heavy desk; I hoped it wouldn't move.

I lifted my head for a moment to ask, "Does Tommy ever do this for you?"

"Oh, no, Mr. E.," she said, panting each syllable a strain. "I'm a good girl," she whispered.

I went back to work. I recognized her impending climax by the noises she was making. She loved having her nipples played with and chewed. Her breathing became labored, her moans louder and soon I was rewarded by her squeal, signaling her orgasm. It wasn't a big one, but it was just the start of what I had planned. Her hands pried me from her breasts and she pulled me up to where she could kiss me. I was almost suffocated!

Her hands came away from the back of my head and she placed them on my shirt. She looked me in the eyes and reached up for another, shorter kiss. Then she started do descend, getting on her knees in front of me, the skirt swirling around her, hiding her lower body. As her hands trailed down my chest and stomach, they hooked onto my pants' waistline. She deftly undid the belt and the button of the slacks was next. The sound of the zipper being pulled sounded very loud in the office.

Her hands fished around for a second or so, pulling both the slacks and the boxer briefs down to my knees. She then grabbed my erection and suddenly I was engulfed in a hot, wet suction. I realized I was too primed and mathematical formulas sprung into my head as a diversion to what she was doing. Yes, I wanted to come, but not yet; I wanted to enjoy this.

She pulled off of me for a second. She looked up at me, and with a gleam in her eyes, she said, "Are you going to punish me with this, Mr. E.?" She was lightly pulling at my cock, licking her lips.

What could I say? I nodded to her and said, "Yes, Miss LaRue. This will definitely be a part of your punishment. There will be more," I added, I hoped ominously.

She stuck her tongue out and licked the head of my cock before sucking it in and out a couple of strokes. She looked up at me again, smiling as she licked me some more, her hands in constant motion up and down my shaft.

"Have you done this for Tommy?" I asked, nearly gasping. "In the stairwell?" I added.

She nodded and took me once again into her mouth, nearly sucking the head right off. She came off of it, opened wide, and with her eyes never leaving mine, took me nearly to the root. I could feel her tongue swirling around my dick, her eyes glowing. Her cheeks were concaved with her sucking and even math formulas were not going to work much longer. Oh, well ... maybe I could be rejuvenated later.

My hands were on her head, much like hers had been earlier. I tried not to press her too much; she was doing fine on her own, but my body had different ideas. My hips started moving back and forth, my hands and arms trying to push her head further onto my cock. Through it all that tongue kept up its movement inside her mouth, adding exquisitely to the vacuuming of her mouth.

Soon, it was too much. I tried to warn her, but I was nearly incoherent. "Lou," I cried, and suddenly I was there. She didn't pull off, only sucked harder, taking everything I had, and sucked some more. Her hands never stopped their pumping until I started to soften. When I did, she finally pulled off with a pop and a lick of her lips.

"Yum. I think I liked that punishment," Lou said, using a finger to wipe some saliva that was dribbling down her chin.

I grabbed her by her elbows and lifted her to where I could kiss her, tasting myself on her lips and tongue. I pulled a little more and she was off her feet, dangling I spun us around and deposited her on the edge of the desk. As I was seating myself in the chair and pulling it forward, Lou leaned back on one elbow, her feet, in those ridiculous tennis shoes and bobby sox came up onto the desk, causing her knees to fall outward. The skirt shadowed her pudendum, but she solved that quickly by pulling the skirt up over her knees and up to her waist.

"Is this going to be part of my punishment?" she asked quietly. I nodded. "I should probably be spanked right here," she said huskily, as her hand spread her lips.

I didn't say anything. I scootched the chair closer for a better view. The lips of her pussy were infused with blood and her moisture sparkled in the late afternoon light. Her clit was peeking out from its hood. I reached out and gave it a light smack, a pat, really. Lou moaned deep in her throat and her pussy contracted a little. I did it again, only slightly harder. She moaned again, and, as her pussy contracted, so did her legs. I did it a third and fourth time, lightly, and by the fifth such smack on her clit, you could hear how wet she was.

I didn't waste any more time, but putting my hands under her butt, lifted her to my mouth. Her aroma was pure arousal, her taste divine. Her hand left off holding herself open for me and instead, clutched the back of my head, holding me to her puss. For my part, I took a long drink from the well that was her vagina, sticking my tongue in deeply, and then taking shallow licks at the entrance. This started her hunching at my face, her hand trying to force my face in deeper.

I brought my tongue upwards and circled her clit. My hands put her butt back down to the surface of the desk and I brought my right hand under my chin, extending my middle finger. I plunged it as deeply into her as I could, stopping only because my hand could not enter her. She was tight, and I could feel her muscles convulsing around that digit. I continued to circle her clit with my tongue all the while plunging and withdrawing my finger from her pussy.

Something in me decided that it was time; it might have been her moans and groans, the way she gripped my head, the way her legs going in and out, alternately squeezing and releasing my head; I may have just wanted to get onto the main event. I turned my hand and curled my finger and felt the spongy mass at the top of her vagina, and I rubbed it. At the same time, I sucked her clit into my mouth. I maintained that suction and attacked her clit with my tongue.

I thought the world might have ended right there! She started wailing, but I could only hear it as if from a distance. Her legs were so tight to my head I thought I'd lost my hearing. She started shaking and her hand, which had held me in place, tried to push me away. I held on, rubbing her G-spot and sucking on her clit until her legs fell away from my head. I heard her sobbing and I stopped abruptly, reaching out and gathering her in my arms.

She laid her head on my shoulder, her arms clutching me. She soon got her sobs and her breathing under control and she leaned back and smiled at me.

"Wow!" she breathed. "If I had known being late would get me a punishment like that, I'd have cut classes way back when I was a freshman!" Her smile became coy and seductive. "Is that the end of my punishment? I need to get home before dark, you know," she added.

"We're not done, yet," I growled. "I promised you the paddle, and we haven't used that yet." I took a grip on her hips.

"No, Mr. E.!" she cried, her eyes going wide in mock-fear. "Please don't! I'll be a good girl, I promise," she pleaded.

"Yes, you will, Miss. LaRue," I said as I turned her over, her ass, under her skirt, facing me. I flipped up the skirt so that I could see her skin, running taut over the muscles of her buttocks, those muscles forming such a lovely bubble-butt. I gave it a light smack, the sound bouncing off the walls of the office. "Yes, you will be a good girl when we're done!"

She laid there, her arms wide on the desk, her tits pressing into it. I pushed on the small of her back to keep her in place while I put my cock into position to take her from the rear. I had to bend my knees, but I finally got into position as she helpfully spread her legs a little further. I placed my cock at her entrance, and I started to push. If I thought her mouth was hot and wet, her pussy was even more so, a furnace, in fact. I groaned and she echoed me as I slowly pushed into her.

Finally, I was completely seated. Then I did the unexpected. I raised my right hand and brought it down, just about as hard as I could on her right cheek. The sound rang out in the confines of the office, her young buttock wobbling only a little bit. She yowled, then, and then again when I did the same thing with my left hand. Inside, her cunt grabbed me and held me in place, nearly cutting me in two.

I knew that this turned her on, as I could feel added wetness seeping around my cock onto my balls. I did it again and again as I forced my way in and out of her sopping pussy. Her yowling turned into a mantra of "Do it again, harder, harder," as I continued for about a total of twenty slaps. I had to stop, as my hand was starting to hurt, and if I was hurting, how much more would she?

I reached over, then, and picked up the paddle. I brought to where she could see it, and I saw some fear in her eyes. "No, please, no," she pleaded. I picked it up again, and then barely touched both cheeks of her butt with it.

"There," I said. "I've paddled you. Will you promise to be a good girl from now on?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. E! I promise," she answered. "But only if you finish what you've started," she said, her voice no longer in little-girl style.

I had every intention of doing just that, believe me. But first, I had something to which I needed to attend. I reached over to the edge of the desk. I don't think she had seen this particular object during our little play. It was a bottle of lotion that I always kept in one of my camera bags. I put a dollop onto my hand and put the lotion down. I spread it between my hands and then I applied it to both cheeks.

A big sigh was my reward. "Oh," she said, "that feels heavenly." I continued to rub gently, all the while moving in small thrusts in her pussy. It rippled with her sighs of contentment. I took another dollop or two, all the while listening to her. I took a final amount, this time placing it on my middle finger, and I aimed for her anal sphincter, and rubbed it up and down there.

She reacted just as anyone would with something that unexpected, trying to move away from it. She turned her head to look at me, accusation in her eyes. She tried to get up, but my hand on her back prevented her from getting much leverage. I continued to circle that hole, and experimented with putting my finger inside.

I pushed it as far as I could go, up to about my second knuckle. I could feel my cock through the thin membrane separating my finger from it. I tried pushing harder, and felt her relax a little. I was finally able to put my finger up as far as I could and I started moving it in and out. She reacted by starting to move her hips in and out and renewing her moaning.

I unclenched my index finger and I was able to push that into her ass, also. This brought more moaning, and a little bit of cursing on her part. "Oh, my God," she said softly, "that hurts, but it hurts so good." I started moving my hips, and concentrated on alternating my finger thrusts with my hips.

After a few moments, I pulled my fingers from her ass, and I pulled out of her and placed the head of my cock against her asshole. I started to push, knowing that there would be resistance. She, finally becoming aware of what I intended to do, suddenly stood up, turned around and put her hands on my arms.

"No, Jon," she said quietly. "I'm not ready for that. I've never done it before, and I don't want to start now." Her voice was not the little girl, but the woman who was my friend. "Please, let's just finish this lovely afternoon," she finished, her eyes looking at me with pleading and what I thought of as love.

What could I do? I was brought up to respect women of all ages, and when a woman says "no", it doesn't mean "maybe, if you get me hot enough", but it means "no". I gently pushed her back onto the desk top, her legs akimbo, and thrust into her once more, smoothly. She was still very hot, and she sighed and laid her head back. I slotted myself at the entrance of her pussy. Her legs came up around my thighs and her arms reached out to me. As I lowered my upper body over her, her legs pulled me in. She was as hot and wet as before and my new position meant that the head of my cock was rubbing her g-spot with every inward stroke.