Robert Miller, Dean of Students at Morningside Girls Academy, closed the spreadsheet he had been working on and spun his chair around. He sat back and looked out of the large window in front of him. It gave his eyes a break from staring at the computer screen and had the further benefit of letting him enjoy the pleasant diversion of watching students passing by on the sidewalk outside his window. Morningside was a residential school for girls from grades 8-12, so the view was often tantalizing for a letch like the good Dean. The school day had ended half an hour ago, but there was still a lot of activity on campus.

Today, his timing was excellent. Players from the school’s varsity and JV soccer and volleyball teams were sauntering by, on their way to practice. There was something special about the way they walked, confident, almost cocky, with their tanned, athletic legs on display. They reminded Robert of a herd of gazelles he had seen once on safari. He smiled, picturing himself as a lion waiting in the grass. He closed his laptop and headed for the door, another day successfully behind him. When he opened it, he saw Angel Richards waiting on the bench outside his office. “Miss Richards, how long have you been here?”

“Since school ended,” the snarky blond told him. “Where’s Mrs. Brown?”

“She left early to take her son to the dentist. Well, come on in.”

Angel followed him into his office, closing the door behind her. Even though there wasn’t much traffic in the hallway this late in the day, she knew Dean Miller liked privacy when he was dealing with a discipline issue. She walked over and stood in front of his desk while he walked around and sat in the $300 chair he had requisitioned for himself.

“Let me see it,” the dean said as he held his hand out.

Angel handed him the one-page note she had been holding. Officially, it was called a Discipline Report, but everyone at the school called it a “naughty note”. When a teacher deemed that a student had misbehaved egregiously or broken one of the more severe school rules, the student was sent to Dean Miller’s office. Most of the teachers at the school were not comfortable with disciplining students and preferred to leave that to the dean. That was the way he liked it, too. He had no qualms about punishing a young lady when required.

Robert opened the note and read it. “H-m-m, Miss Higginbotham again. You don’t get along with her, do you, Miss Richards?”

“She’s a fat bitch. Wait, I meant witch,” Angel snarled. The teacher’s nickname among the students was Mrs. Bigginbottom. It wasn’t just a pun, but an apt description.

Robert suppressed a smile. He agreed with Angel, but he couldn’t let her know. He had to support his irascible English teacher. “Language, young lady,” he told Angel, then he read the contents of the note. “It says here you were drawing ... penises ... on your desk?”

“I prefer to say cocks, but I don’t think Miss Bigginbottom knows that word. I’m surprised she even knew what I was drawing. I don’t think she’s ever seen one.”

Robert didn’t reply to that either; he just continued reading the note. “Then you called her a ‘fat, ugly toad’. Really, Miss Richards?”

“If it matters, I was drawing in a notebook, not on my desk. Wanna see?” Angel reached for her backpack and unzipped it. Robert started to stop her, but he was curious to see what the fledgling artist had drawn and what had irritated the English teacher so much.

She pulled out her notebook, set it on his desk, and opened it to the drawing that had gotten her in trouble. Robet knew that in addition to being one of the most annoying students at Morningside, Angel was also one of the school’s best artists. Even so, he was surprised, almost shocked, by how realistic the erect penis she had drawn was, complete with the veins and circumcised head. It wasn’t just some pornographic doodling a younger student might have created when they wanted to shock a teacher; it was almost like a Da Vinci anatomical sketch.

“Very nice,” he told her, “who was the model?”

“I wish I knew a guy like that,” she told him. “I just let my imagination run wild, wondering what a perfect guy would look like.”

“So, not to scale?” Robert asked. The illustration filled the entire 9 ½ x 11-inch page.

Angel laughed. “Want to see what else I’ve been working on?”

Somehow, the conversation had changed from a discussion of her misbehavior to her artwork. Robert didn’t mind. He tried to present himself as a strict, no-nonsense disciplinarian, but his affection toward Angel, an emotion that he tried to keep hidden, was hard to deny. The fact that in a few moments he would be punishing her did nothing to diminish his desire.

Angel didn’t wait for the dean to answer before she turned to a different page in her notebook, then spun it around for him to see. Robert was surprised to see that page filled with a very anatomically correct ink drawing of a woman’s intimate parts.

“Self-portrait?” he asked.

“Nope,” Angel replied, “just a friend.”