Chapter 8

He had not intended to stay, so had no night clothes. He was put at the end of a corridor of young female teachers; it was a wholly inappropriate place but, as Miss Blantire (geography and needlework) said “Needs must eh?” The bathrooms were at the opposite end of the corridor; thankfully the washing rooms had cubicles each containing a bath and wash basin. Less fortunately, the ‘lavabos’ as they were labelled, were all in one room with cubicles and hand wash basins in the anteroom. Some teachers were very hesitant to accept the idea of ‘mixed’ ablutions, others were rather excited by it.

It had been the norm to bathe in the evening, often having a long, luxurious soak; and then return to one’s room wrapped in a copious bath towel. The school-supplied towels were extensive ; and nothing could be visible that should not be visible; nevertheless it was clear that, dressed in a towel meant one was in the ‘all together’ beneath. But then, as one particularly forthright young lady pointed out, ‘we are all in the all together beneath our layers of clothing’. A comment that brought forward a ‘tut’ from Madeleine Brokenshire, who was the prissiest young teacher (and one of the prettiest).

Mr Small was invited to ‘do rounds’ with Misses Turqoy (French and Latin) and Burgoyne (German and Greek). The idea was actually to allow the other ladies to wash, bathe and otherwise relax from the day without the risk of running into a man. So the three made their way along corridors that had not had a male scent in them since they were converted to school use (unless you unkindly considered Miss Dorothy Linquaid more of a man than a woman, which, with the facial hair she sprouted, many did).

Although each house had a House-Mistress; she was meant to be something between a surrogate mother and a supervisor; some were better than others, some were more supervisors and less empathic.

The rounds were there to ensure that the dormitories settled down when it was time. Older pupils were allowed to sit up and read, younger pupils were expected to sleep. Generally there were always some girls running to their rooms when rounds began. This night was no exception, so there were several views of young ladies from the age of thirteen to eighteen running along corridors in light night dresses that allowed a creditable view of their attractive rumps. One particularly light dress allowed the light to pass from the room beyond, with the result that an exact view of the girl’s body was possible. The two teachers simply laughed; the girl should have understood that her clothing was see-through.

“I should know what I was enabling to be seen; and be content with that” said Miss Burgoyne

“I suppose I should be content with that too” replied Mr Small, then realised that he might be taken to imply he would like to see Miss Burgoyne in a similar light dress. “I mean...”

“Mr Small! Whatever do you mean?” Miss Burgoyne laughed

“And I? Would you not like to see me, also, in such a nightdress?” added Miss Turqoy

“Oh of course ... I mean no. I mean. Oh dear”

“Who knows, Mr Small, what will be visible back on the teacher’s corridor. Perhaps we should hurry back to catch some of our colleagues unawares?”

“No! I would not embarrass the young ladies who have been so helpful”

They walked on and came to a room with the light still on. Opening the door, the girls were all sitting up. It was evident to the teachers, but not to the male, that the news had travelled and these girls were deliberately testing the waters. Several had their nightwear tightly against their fronts, one or two had ‘forgotten’ to tie their neck bows, allowing some view of the cleavage of young busts. “Girls, girls, you are being naughty!” Miss Turqoy let the words hang briefly, making it obvious that she knew what they were doing “it is time for your lights to be out. Misses Smith and Thomas, you have forgotten to tie your bow; you might get a chill on your unprotected chests” Henrietta Turqoy was joining in the teasing, drawing Jack Small’s attention to the open front of their night dresses.

Jack Small pulled himself together “You two ladies are teasing me, I think. Let me be clear. I am as red-blooded as the next man. I find the picturesque view of a retreating schoolgirl derriere or a see-through night dress attractive, and yes, yes if either of you was skipping down this corridor in just such a way, I should enjoy that view. But, though I am a school inspector, my inspection does not cover that, so I shall take no notice”

“Nicely put, Mr Small.” It had not escaped Miss Burgoyne’s attention that he had referred to not taking advantage of pupils, not teachers.

In the bathrooms of the teachers’ corridor, ladies were enjoying the warm water and luxuriating in their oils and soaps and perfumes and the like. Madeleine Brokenshire lay in the water and considered how to deal with the fourth form desire to know more about biology than they should at that age. And how to bring on Harriet O’Connor with her language studies; she really was exceptional. And then there was the mathematics club that would be ... Slowly, inexorably, the warm water did its work and she relaxed into a doze, such a pleasant doze. Such a pleasant “Wow! The time! That man will return soon!” She leapt from the bath, dried herself rapidly and, rather than dressing for bed here, she would do so in her room, wrapped in her towel she opened the door. Mr Small was advancing down the corridor. “Sugar!” she muttered. Still, she could hardly retreat now. She stepped out, closed the door and walked towards Mr Small with a smile. The long towel trapped into the door, slipped from her body, causing her smile to turn rictus. Mr Small would have offered his jacket (though in truth he had already taken in her perky, pink breasts (pink from the hot water) and her perfectly V-shaped pubic bush) but she opted to run past him for her room before any others saw. He was not so much of a gentleman that he did not turn to admire the rounded, firm bottom sprinting down the corridor – also an attractively healthy pink.

“Dashed fine view” he said out loud and continued to the ablutions, collecting the towel on the way so there should be no evidence.

“Dashed fine view” she heard him say as she ran for her room. Oh, the shame! After she had taken the girls in the fourth to task for being too curious about reproduction, now she had presented herself as Eve had done in the Garden; and she had not even had a leaf to cover herself! She looked at her arms and realised she was carrying her nightdress. If only she had thought, she might have covered her personal self. She looked in the mirror at her breasts (perky) and stomach (flat) and legs (shapely) and ‘that place’ (just a hint of the reddened wound that ran between her legs). She turned round and twisted to look at her bottom (firm, round, and defined). “Dashed fine view” he had said, and she was, she had to admit. She was. One hand was holding her bottom, the other was almost unconsciously stroking her triangle of hair at the base of her torso. “Dashed fine view” he had said. She stoked her little fire with coal to keep the room as warm as toast, and lay on the bed. “Dashed fine view”. Yes, she was a dashed fine view. In the mirror on the dressing table, not a foot from the base of the bed, she could see herself reflected; she could see her opening, she opened it, she could see the glistening of the folds of skin and the little hole where she peed, and the little swelling above it. This was a dashed fine view that he hadn’t seen. She let a finger stroke along from the feminine opening to the swelling and murmured “dashed fine ... feeling” and she let fingers take her to the pleasures that she had tried to tell the fourth were only for marriage. “Dashed fine, yes, dashed fine” she whispered as she recovered her senses.

Had she but known it, she was the cause of Jack Small now in his allotted room, with a hand inside his trousers. He could bear it no longer and had to relieve his feelings. In his mind’s eye saw the naked woman running past over and over. In some of his fantasies, he turned and followed her to her room. In others he was a stallion and mounted her in the corridor. In one he tried to be a gentleman, but he failed to imagine a conclusion that was anything by sexual. In his last fantasy he dragged her to his room in silence and forced his cock into her unwilling vagina. He came then and covered his hand in white juice. There was no wash basin in the room. He would have to go down the corridor to wash.

He entered the cubicle first and pissed, not hearing the occupant in the neighbouring one, who had just finished. She expected it to be one of the teachers, so when they emerged together, she did a double take. Again, Madeleine found herself unable to retreat. She tried not to look, but saw him washing what was clearly not pee off his hand. What was that? Oh! It was his spend. He had gone to his room and spent, thinking ‘dashed fine view’. She had become a male masturbation fantasy. She should have been offended, appalled even. But she was not. She was significantly excited, she found.

“I wonder what he imagined” she said, then looked confused, she had said that out loud. She was standing in her night wear beside a man who had been imagining something no doubt awful happening with her. She looked at him. He was looking at her because of what she had said “I apologise, I don’t know what came over me” she looked at his hand and said “I mean not, that of course. I mean”

Now he was confused, she knew that he had just washed off his spend, she also guessed that he had been thinking of her; yet she was smiling. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again “I could tell you what I was thinking if you like”

They went to her room. What was she doing? She could be dismissed. What was he doing? He could be dismissed!

“I shall not give myself to you. Understand that” But she’d invited him to her room. She could hardly make him leave if he refused. His hand was on her leg and now her thigh.