Chapter 3

10:07 A.M. Monday, October 15, 2063

Eleven of the girls were already in the room as the bell rang; they were topless by the time the others came in several minutes late, waiving slips of paper over their heads. I read the first two; they were identical.

"Are these all the same?" I asked.

"Yeah, Coach," answered Turio Teraufau, an adorable fifteen year old virgin of full Tahitian blood, "Someone needs to send Genkins back to Driver's Ed." She folded her blouse and bra, putting them in the basket beside her.

Genkins. I wondered if it was true that he drank during the school day. He'd never failed a test, but there were ways to beat the tests. I wondered, too, why the school district kept him. This happened at least once every se­mester, though there were never any injuries. Somehow, it was always the other guy's fault. I didn't really buy it.

I told them, "Well, as it isn't your faults that you are late, and you have the notes from the office to prove it, none of you will have the three points deducted from today's quiz. Maybe Mr. Genkins should lose three points."

They were all topless now, and Amy had removed her skirt, shoes, and stockings as well.

"It looks like our Miss Tellington is the only one with a working memory today," I suggested.

They all turned to look at the slender redhead, making her blush, and then removed clothing (with much rolling of the eyes, and a hint of reluctance from Lisa) until they, too, stood before me in nothing but panties.

When I'd had them remove skirts, shoes and whatever socks or stockings they'd worn last Friday, the panties had mostly been basic white, cotton underwear. Today, I was greeted with a rainbow of panties. Red, gold, black, sil­ver, green, bikinis, thongs, shear, opaque, lace, satin, lame, even doeskin leather, in the case of Amy. I suppose she remembered to take her clothes off because she'd been looking forward to showing these off all weekend. They'd all thought of it while getting dressed this morning; that was obvious. Several of the girls were almost thrusting forward with the hips in eagerness to show off these undergarments, and I decided to wait until next week to ask them to remove them, seeing that they had gone to such trouble. Of course, I made this decision every year, for the same reasons. I also implemented a little plan that had occurred to me during the last summer.

"Wow!" I exclaimed, "what pretty panties!"

There was general giggling, and more than a little blushing.

"Tell you what, why don't we ... we'll do it in alphabetic order, by first name. Each of you come to the front of the class and tell the rest of us about that beautiful underwear. If you have a matching bra with you, you can put it back on, too, before you come up."

Some of the girls seemed delighted with this idea; others seemed almost scared. But this class was going to get a lot more intimate, and potentially embarrassing, than talking about underwear. In fact, the whole idea was to ease them into this more gently than I used to do. I'd still be doing the same thing, naturally, but not until next week, and this "show and tell" would hopefully take some of the fright out of what was going to happen then.

So up they stepped, one after another, most in matching tops and bottoms, some in bottoms only. A few of these seem to stick out in my mind.

"Hi. I'm Amethyst Smith, and I made these panties and matching bra myself, over the weekend. That's why they are a simple black thong, with a bit of lace, and the bra is just your basic black bra with lace. I didn't think that I was up to doing anything really elaborate yet."

"Hi. I'm Lisa Lagrange, and my, uh, set, is made of genegineered spider silk. The bra has pockets for adding pads, but there seems little point in that, seeing as how you all know just what I do and don't have upstairs."

"Hi. I'm Mimosa Kang, and my panties are a cheap knock-off of an expensive designer label. The material is real silk, but the pattern [black and gold snakeskin] is simply printed on, not woven from individually dyed strands, like the real designer thing. You have to look close to tell the diff, though, and I'm always proud to find a bargain."

I was surprised that Amethyst was that creative, that shy Lisa volunteered the information about the pad pock­ets, and that the Kangs, easily the richest family in my class this year, were such bargain hunters. And Amy's leathern panties? Her mother gave them to her. I decided that you could learn a lot about a girl by listening to her talk about her underwear.

Assigning them Chapter Five, I just sat back and relaxed, for the most part, until the class buzzer went off, five minutes before the school bell. This was a necessity, of course, as the girls needed time to dress.