Chapter 1

“Don’t be nervous darling”, Molly’s mother said as she straightened her daughter’s tie. “You are beautiful, fun, kind and smart. You will fit right in”.

The first day at a new school could be a frightening experience. Hundreds of other pupils, strange classrooms, corridors that seemed to lead nowhere and teachers far too busy to devote their time to helping the new girl settle in.

Molly was indeed beautiful. It was rare for a 14 year old to be satisfied with what she saw in the mirror. But her strawberry blonde hair, dimples, slim body and growing breasts gave her cause to at least hope she was desirable.

She kissed her mum goodbye, and was told the same thing that her father had said just an hour earlier. She didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want.

St Augustine’s school had a national reputation. A sting by the Daily Mail three years previous had called it the national capital for teenage pregnancies. The political fallout had seen a new Headteacher, Mr Peddigrew, installed because of his leading research into combatting such matters - or ‘challenges’ as he liked to call them. Despite his relatively old age, he had adopted a progressive attitude to sex education in recent years. His reforms had seen the number of pregnancies fall to zero immediately. He took the credit for the result, but it was common knowledge that it was one of his English teachers, Miss Driscoll, that had made the difference.

As Molly walked through the school gates she noted how itchy the regulation school skirt was. It was shorter than that of her previous school and the polyester felt cheap against her thighs.

Molly was new, and she felt it. She passed through the playground and saw groups of girls huddled, gossiping away. Boys were throwing a rugby ball to each other, others playing cricket against the wall of the science block.

It was a far cry from her old school where she knew everyone and the boys in particular paid her constant attention. There was still part of her that resented her parents for moving to a new town, forcing her to start her life from scratch.

After the bell, pupils from across Year 9, the school year for 14 year olds, filed into the main hall. It was the beginning of the new term and dust could be seen suspended in the beams of sunlight streaming through the windows.

Almost 200 pupils took their seats, which had been carefully placed into rows divided by a narrow aisle. Molly had no choice but to sit on the front row - they were the only ones left vacant. The plastic chairs were almost as uncomfortable as the uniform.

“Do you think it’s this one?” She heard a boy whisper to his friend. “The famous assembly? No it can’t be, they wouldn’t do it on the first day”. “Yeah but Andy’s brother said it’s always the first school assembly for year 9” “Nah can’t be, I doubt that...”

The large doors at the back of the hall clattered shut, and everyone turned around. Teachers had streamed in, holding cups of weak instant coffee and badly organised files as they made their way along the sides of the room.

Mr Peddigrew liked to wear his headmaster’s gown. He’d clearly forgotten it was nearly 40 years since he studied at Oxford and nobody wore them in schools like this.

“She’s there” whispered the boy excitedly. “I know I know!” “It’s today. I bloody told you it was today”.

Molly was unsure who the boys were talking about but she didn’t care. She wanted to make a good impression and sat quietly as Mr Peddigrew welcomed the pupils back for their third year at the school, reading through a list of announcements about the netball team trials, teacher-pupil council meetings and the date for the end of term talent contest.

“And a letter will be going to your parents this week about the forthcoming field trips. For now though, I’ve asked Miss Driscoll to lead this assembly. You all know we take sex education extremely seriously at St Augustine’s...”

A wave of sniggering passed through the hall.

“ ... and she has kindly agreed to talk to your in a little more depth, given her substantial expertise in the field”.

Everyone in the town knew about Miss Driscoll. Men would stand in the pub, holding their pints in one hand and throwing darts with the other, telling their stories just as their sons did whilst tapping away on their XBox controllers.

She was beautiful, that much was obvious from her classic English bone structure, high cheekbones in an oval shape, and deep green eyes that were accentuated by the long, shiny brown hair that would not have looked out of place in a shampoo commercial. But as she made her way to the front of the hall it was her stylish dress sense that aroused Molly’s interest. Her cream summer dress, patterned with a faded rose print, was fitted tightly around her waist in such a way that drew attention to her firm breasts and subtly tanned, thin legs. Molly could not help but admire her.

“Good morning everyone and thank you Mr Peddigrew”

Miss Driscoll smiled effortlessly. She knew that the pupils talked, they all had older brothers and sisters who will no doubt have taken great delight in telling them about the annual sex education assembly.

But there were also false rumours. She had heard at least one story suggesting the assembly was 6 hours long, and that each pupil was given their first sexual experience one after the other. Whilst she did not necessarily find the idea unappealing, it would be rather impractical.

“Sex is the most wonderful thing” she began, her feminine, Received Pronunciation accent bouncing through the echoey hall. “But only when done correctly.”

“And learning about your own body is just as important as learning about someone else’s. After all, how can you satisfy another, if you can’t satisfy yourself?”

The profundity of the question made Molly sit back. She had never had sex, nor had she even touched a boy. But in the last year she had changed. She found herself day dreaming almost constantly. What did it feel like? How exactly does it work?

“Masturbation...”, the boys behind Molly smirked at the mere mention of the word, “is simply about learning. Learning who you are, what you enjoy, how your body works. If you understand that, then the next steps will be so much more enjoyable.”

“Hands up who has masturbated.” She asked with a faint, almost excitable smile.

Wondering if it was a trick question, one by one the boys across the hall each raised their hands tentatively, embarrassed but reassured that they were not alone.

Miss Driscoll could not help notice that no girls had raised their hands.

“Come on ladies, be honest.”

Still no response.

The teacher was disappointed, never mind surprised. She had never run an assembly like this without at least one girl admitting to her nascent sexuality.

“What about you?”

She peered down on the new girl. Her long blonde hair, cute button nose and dimples that caved deep into her cheeks with every change of facial expression. Any ordinary school would quickly see her become an object of desire.

Molly’s heart pounded through her chest, an acid burn raced through her veins as her fellow students strained to get a glimpse.

“No Miss” she replied nervously.

It wasn’t that the young girl had never had erotic thoughts. In many ways, she felt guilty at their sheer abundance. But it had never occurred to her to touch herself, and she certainly never imagined she may one day discuss it in front of 200 fellow pupils.

“I masturbate”, the teacher informed the room, “and I do it because it feels good”.

Mr Peddigrew grinned, looking out among his seated students, the boys in particular had never paid more attention.

“And it is OK to want to feel good” she concluded, her right knee now bending slightly, allowing her hip to subtly arch outwards, her hands slowly moving towards the straps of her dress which straddled her slim, elegant shoulders. She delicately stroked the side of her breasts, exaggerating the hint of cleavage her low cut dress was designed to show off.

“So today I will give you a demonstration. Girls I want to show you how, and boys, I want you to learn. Because if you understand how to make a girl feel good, then she will come back to you time and again”.

Several of the boys winked at each other, they knew of all the stories from their older brothers. From what they had heard Miss Driscoll definitely did go back time and again.

An excited gasp swept across the room. Molly could barely believe what was happening, but almost all of her classmates knew this was coming.