"MILK?"
A thousand pairs of eyes swung in my direction.
St Etheldreda's scored a goal. 8-1 to St Cat's.
"Milk?" I yelled, slightly less loudly.
"Yeah, look!" And Angelica showed me her brand new St Cat's Cheerleader's crop top. It was soaked through at the front. The staff of St Etheldreda's were staring, too, with renewed interest. Anyone would think they had never seen a lactating teacher before.
I had seen my share of lactating girls, but I was helpless to do anything. I had no industrial paper towel with me, although there were a dozen or so rolls out in the minibus. A fat lot of use they were out there. We needed something now. Angelica was already starting to drip.
The nearest of the teachers leaned across and addressed me.
"It's a disgrace, you know." St Cat's scored again.
"A disgrace?"
"Bringing a woman out in this condition. She shouldn't be allowed out. Where's her baby, anyway?" The woman blushed deeply as she forced the word 'baby' between her lips.
"She hasn't got a baby. She's just lactating, that's all. Shit, it happens all the time!"
The woman subsided, crimson with shame. I grabbed Angelica by the hand and stood up. "It's nearly half-time. Let's go down to the changing room."
She came with me willingly, leaving a twin trail of droplets down the steps from the VIP enclosure to the court, and along to the changing rooms.
We had been in there only ten seconds when the girls burst in, hot and sweaty and reeking of deep arousal.
"We've got them."
"They're useless."
"They're a bunch of boys!"
"I copped a feel of one."
"So did I!"
"Was it hard?"
"Yeah. Not very big, but hard as iron!"
"How big's not very big?"
"About like this." The girl demonstrated with her fingers. I know size isn't important, but the poor boy had certainly been at the wrong end of the line when the willies were handed out. The other girls seemed to agree. Hang on!
"Boys?"
"Yes, Miss. You can see how flat-chested they all are. They've got packets instead."
"Packets?" I thought I knew what they meant, but these were Juniors. Surely not...
"Lunch-boxes, Miss. Willies."
So much for my illusions.
"Oh, hi, Miss Grimbo!"
It had taken them long enough to come down from their hormonal ecstasy and notice that there was a sweating and moaning teacher in their midst giving a passable impression of a pedigree dairy shorthorn.
"You've got milk, Miss!"
"I already noticed, thanks."
"Hey, that's great, Miss Grimbo!"
"You're still just as big, though, Miss."
"Bigger, I reckon."
She was. Angelica was bigger. Now the milk had come in, it had come in with a vengeance. The crop-top, soaked to transparency, was almost splitting under its load, and the way it was bulging at the seams seemed to be forcing yet more milk out. Yet it was so tight, Angelica was unable to get any relief from the pressure. She had been tugging at it for some time without success.
"We'll give you a hand, Miss Grimbo."
Half a dozen eager pairs of hands shot forward to help. Despite working in opposition to each other, they got the soggy top off in less than a minute, dropping it to the floor while they turned their attention to the moaning, coming, sobbing teacher's well-nigh exploding bra. The bra eventually splashed to the floor as well, and the girls stood and admired their handiwork.
So did I.
Angelica was literally spraying. Twittering, the netball team gathered round, opening their mouths in a disgraceful display of greed and lasciviousness. I had to physically drag two of them off Angelica's spurting nipples so I could get a mouthful myself.
It was like warm nectar. I let it trickle down my face into my mouth, dribble off my chin on to my shirt. Five girls hauled me away to get near the fountain themselves.
That was when the door opened and Miss Codballs-Stockingtops came in, her eyes out on stalks. I suppose it was an unusual scene.
"St Catherine's," she boomed, and I looked round guiltily in case our patron saint had actually descended from Mount Olympus or wherever, probably in search of a mouthful or two of glorious Angelica-milk. "Your team must be on court in ten seconds or you will forfeit the game!"
They made it with a second to spare, which was remarkable, considering that the girls had to get dressed first. Angelica and I were left alone in the changing room. Her soggy upper clothes lay on the floor in a spreading white puddle, together with the bras of the St Cat's Junior Netball Team.
At least, that would explain how they came to get dressed and out there on the court so fast.
It always gave Miss Labia a great deal of pleasure to throw her weight about in the absence of the Headmistress. She carefully lowered the phone on to its hook and sat back with a self-satisfied grin. A Junior girl was hovering in the office, probably hoping for punishment of some sort.
"You, girl. Come here."
"Me, Miss Labia?"
"Yes. Go over to the Third Form and find Miss Meadowlark. Tell her I need to see her as a matter of urgency."
The Junior girl rehearsed her lines, her lips moving silently. "Even if she's teaching, Miss Labia?"
"Urgently, I said. Move, girl!"
Five minutes later, Corinne appeared in Miss Labia's office. She was not best pleased. A Junior girl had burst into her treatise on Wheelbarrow Loading — Advanced Practical, insisting that it was desperately urgent and she had to see Miss Labia at once. She had hurried over to the secretary's office, knowing that she was the senior member of the teaching staff on the premises. Hurrying made her breasts hurt, even in this new bra. She had almost forgotten how heavy breasts could be.
"What is it?" she asked, panting slightly and steadying her heaving bosom with both hands.
"I've had the police on the phone," Miss Labia purred with deepest relish.
Corinne gasped. An accident? Shan and the girls in the minibus? Angelica? "The police? What did they want?"
A gratifying response. Miss Labia was pleased. "It's trouble for St Cat's," she crowed. "I knew that woman was trouble from the first time I set eyes on her."
"That woman? Which woman? Not Miss Grimbeau?"
"No, not your Miss Grimbeau, although she's trouble anyway." Miss Labia paused for effect.
"Who, then?"
"Miss Malone, that's who! She's in trouble and she's dragged St Cat's in with her. Up to here!" She indicated the level of her nose.
"What's happened to her? She hasn't sued St Cat's for damages...?"
"No, worse than that. Far worse! Far, far, far worse...!"
"What, for Chrissakes?"
"There's no need for blasphemy," retorted Miss Labia. She backed away as Corinne became menacing. "All right, I'll tell you. I never knew anyone as impatient as you."
"Go on, then!"
"She's a protester. An anti-roads protester."
"We know. Malone's anti-everything. Where is she? Have they arrested her, or what?"
"No, they can't arrest her. That's the trouble. They can't get her down."
"Down? Down from where?"
Miss Labia sat down on her swivel chair, preparing for a long narrative. "The police allowed her to send one message by phone. She gave them the number of St Cat's and said to tell them she is in need of support. And you are the Support and Mobility Mistress. So I called you."
"Support? Miss Malone? But she's only..."
"I don't think it's a bra she's in need of. It's more moral support. The police said to watch the six o' clock news and we'd see her."
"The news? Malone on the news? What's she done?"
Miss Labia smirked with self-satisfaction. "It's only four o' clock. Two whole hours to wait. No, the policeman said you'd better get your arse over to the new Borcester by-pass site a bit sharpish. That's where she is."
"But what's she doing there?"
"She's stopping them building the road, that's what she's doing. They were surveying the proposed route through the valley. It's a Site of Special Scientific Interest. If you want to find out, I suggest you get yourself a taxi and get over there now."
"A taxi? Now?"
Miss Labia leaned back and picked up the phone. "You'll hardly want to walk over there, will you? Here, call Jones's Taxis. You'll be over there in half an hour."
It was gone six o' clock when we scrambled out of the minibus and made our way into the main entrance. Disappointingly, there was no welcoming committee of girls to congratulate our winning team. The place was deserted.
"You'd better go to your dorms, girls. Tell them the good news, Puffies!"
"All right!"
"I'll look after Miss Grimbeau."
"See you later, Miss. See you, Miss Grimbo!"
The team and the cheerleaders hurried away, still squeaking with excitement. I took Angelica by the arm and led her to the stairs. "Come on, love. You must be exhausted."
"I'm tired, Miss Gruntworthy, so tired!"
She was drying out now, her top stained with huge milky patches, through which her nipples thrust gigantically. She leaned against me as we went up the stairs. Nobody about up there, either.
"Where is everybody?"
Smegs appeared. "Ah, about time. Where have you been?"
"We won, Smegs! And Angelica's got milk!"
"Never mind all that, come and look at this on the news. Molly Malone's on the telly!"
"Miss Malone?" Angelica and I exchanged glances. "She hasn't been with us..."
"No, of course she hasn't been with you. Come on. In the sitting room..." She led the way at high speed and we followed, wondering. "There, it's just starting, quick. Shut up and watch."
We did.
"What are you doing up there? Why don't you come down?" Corinne craned her neck to shout. Around her, cameras clicked and whirred, flashes went off in rapid succession from a dozen speedguns.
"Oi can't come down, you fat-head. Sure and I'm locked on. Oi'm chained to this thing."
"Chained to this ... this block of concrete? Who did it?"
"Oi did, you daft eejit."
"You chained yourself to this thing?" Corinne backed away and took in the size of the block of concrete. It was the size of a garage, big and square and twice as tall as she was. Molly Malone's pasty face peered over the edge. Her hair was disshevelled as if she had been up there for a month, rather than three hours. "What for?"
"Oi'm protestin'. Against this new road." She waved an arm with a jingling of chains. "Roads mean cars, and cars mean more roads, and pollution and profits an..."
"Yeah, we know all that. But you're supposed to be at school. You've got a job to do."
"Sure, an' you can send the gorls out to me. Oi can teach them just as well from up here."
"We can't carry on a conversation like this." Corinne was surrounded by scribbling reporters. Tiny tape recorders were in her face. "Somebody get me a ladder." She turned on the crowd of media representatives and took a deep breath. Cameras went into a frenzy. She began to wish she had worn something more appropriate.
The ladder arrived with commendable promptness and a policeman handed her a safety helmet.
"You be all right, going up there on your own, Miss?"
"Of course I'll be all right," Corinne snapped. She mounted the ladder and went up about four rungs.
"Hold it, Corinne!"
"Turn round this way, love!"
"Look at me, darling!"
"I'm here, Corinne!"
"Give us a smile, sweetheart!"
With a snarl, Corinne turned away and bolted up the remaining steps in a fusillade of flashes. Huge blue lights flooded the area. She felt almost naked as she scrambled on to the top of the concrete block.
"You shoulda worn yer jeans," Molly Malone said censoriously. "Whoever heard of protestin' in a fockin' miniskirt?"
"I'm not protesting. I came to see what you were doing out here, bringing the name of St Cat's High School for Growing Girls into disrepute."
"Well, sure an' you're on the news now! Smile for the cameras, Cee! Just behind you, look!"
Corinne turned round and glowered into the eye of a lens not three feet away from her. A television camera had appeared, mounted on one of those things they use for inspecting lamp posts.
"Go away!" Corinne waved at it furiously, her breasts wobbling bravely in the cold glare.
"Are you joining Miss Malone, Miss Meadowlark?" A cultured media voice rang out from the gathering darkness behind the lights.
"They know my name!"
"Course they do! Sure you're famous now. They won't believe it's your real name, though. We usually use made-up names, like Grungy and Boggy. Meadowlark is a nice one. It sounds real close to nature. Do you know, they're going to be chopping down twenty thousand trees to make this bastard road?"
"That's right, and they're planting fifty thousand new ones."
"Dat's immaterial," sneered Miss Malone loftily. "Who'd believe dat, anyway?"
"You've got to come down. Get the men to cut the chain off." Corinne examined Molly's waist. The chain was a massive thing, strong enough to tow a truck, secured by enormous padlocks. One end passed round Molly's middle. The other was attached to a fat iron ring embedded in the middle of the concrete block.
"I've swallowed the keys," Molly said with some satisfaction. "It'll be quite a while before dey get them back. And oi'll swallow them again, if oi foind them first!"
Corinne felt uncomfortable in her stomach. She clutched at herself, a movement which had the effect of thrusting her breasts out several miles in front of her. The cameras went into another paroxysm and she hugged her knees and turned away. "You have to come down. They'll only drag this block away. You can't win."
"Sure an' it weighs a hundred and fifty tons. There's no way they can move it, and they can't smash it up with me on here. It will be weeks..."
Corinne found herself wondering how the concrete block had got here. It must have been an undertaking on a par with the building of Stonehenge. She thrust the thought aside.
"What did you ask for me to come over here for? I can't help you."
"Oi'll be needing food every day. And a shit. You'll have to send me school dinner over in a cab. I don't want the soup. Just the usual veggie option. And an organic chemical toilet and lots of rolls of recycled organic industrial paper towel. Oi'll give you a list..."
"Oh, no! The school isn't giving you support. You're on your own, madam."
"You're all the same. Bloody fascist pigs! Police brutality it will be next, after you've finished starving me to death up here."
"Nobody told you to chain yourself to a hundred and fifty tons of concrete, Molly..."
It went suddenly dark. A generator somewhere slowed and stopped.
"Wrap for now, loves," piped a voice in the darkness surrounding them. Gradually, their eyes became accustomed to the light again. There were a couple of yellow sodium lamps away at the edge of the fenced-off area around the concrete block. At least, Corinne would be able to climb down without the indignity of having her panties photographed for tomorrow's front pages. Most of the photographers already had their pictures and had dispersed noisily into the chill night, their Volvos steaming and stinking of environmentally-correct rotten eggs as they bucketed and lurched away down the bumpy lane in the direction of civilisation and the nearest pub.
"See you tomorrow, darlin'," said Molly Malone sweetly, making herself comfortable. She wrapped her shawl round her and curled up in a ball.
Corinne sniffed and shook her head in disbelief, then she scrambled carefully to the ladder and dangled one leg out into space.
A reassuring voice sounded just behind her. "It's okay, love. Put your other foot on there. You won't fall."
The brutal fascist pig of a policeman gently guided Corinne down to the ground. It felt comfortingly solid.
"We're going past St Cat's, if you want a ride back, Miss. Cheaper than a taxi...? Then you can watch yourself on News at Ten."
That's her, on top of that shed thing."
"It's not a shed, it's concrete. Solid concrete."
"Why can't they get closer? You can hardly see her."
"And why doesn't that bloke get out of the way?"
The reporter obligingly continued in voice-over while the cameras showed a closer shot of Molly Malone.
"She's chained to it," said Smegs glumly. "With bloody great chains."
"Who's done that to her?" Angelica sounded indignant.
"She did it herself, of course."
"Sheesh! Why?"
"It's an old English custom," Smegs explained. "It goes back all of thirty years. It's called democracy. You elect a government and when it doesn't do what you want, you make an arsehole of yourself until you get your own way."
"I wish Cee could see this. She can't stand Molly." I looked around at Smegs, slumped in front of the television, scratching her groin. "Where is she, anyway?"
"Dunno. Haven't seen her since lunchtime."
The reporter droned on. '...With the arrival of a representative of the teaching staff of...' he paused, consulting his notes, '...St Cat's High School ... for ... Growing Girls.'
"That's us," I said with a flush of pride.
'...And Mobility Mistress, Miss Corinne Meadowlark.'
"That's Cee!"
He's talking about Cee!"
"There she is now!" Angelica pointed a wavering finger at the screen. The shot now showed a jostling crowd of cameramen. A diminutive and familiar figure thrust itself to the front and put a foot on the bottom rung of a ladder.
"Christ, what's she wearing?" Smegs covered her eyes and peered through the gaps in her fingers.
"She's not going up that ladder in that skirt?"
"Oh, Cee! Don't do it!"
The figure disregarded my heartfelt warning.
"I never realised how nice her legs are. It must be the angle of the cameras."
Corinne had paused on the ladder like a glamour model of the 1950s. She glowered down at the camera, but she couldn't really see it as her breasts were in the way.
"Christ, look at them! She's gigantic!" Angelica was rubbing her crotch with one hand. The other one seemed to be caressing one of her nipples. It was almost a relief when Corinne scrambled up the rest of the rungs and disappeared over the edge on to the top of the block with a final flourish of panties.
"Goodness me, she will not be pleased with that!" Smegs sounded like a sports commentator.
Another picture had replaced the shoulder-held camera on the ground. This one was at the same level as the top of the concrete block, or even a little higher. It peered intrusively at the two young women. Just for a change, the reporter ceased his perpetual drivelling speculation, and we clearly heard Molly Malone's harshly ringing tones.
'I've swallowed the keys,' she said. 'It'll be quite a while before dey get them back. And oi'll swallow them again, if oi foind them first!'
We all felt uncomfortable in our stomachs. I noticed Angelica clutch at herself, a movement which had the effect of thrusting her breasts out several miles in front of her. She looked very nearly as big as Corinne, whose breasts were visible even from behind her. 'You have to come down,' Corinne was saying. 'They'll only drag this block away. You can't win.'
'Sure an' it weighs a hundred and fifty tons. There's no way they can move it, and they can't smash it up with me on here. It will be weeks...'
"How did they get it there?" I wondered out loud. "It must have been like building Stonehenge." I thrust the thought aside as Corinne continued. The television people must have had a microphone right up there with the two of them.
'What did you ask for me to come over here for? I can't help you.'
'Oi'll be needing food every day. And a shit. You'll have to send me school dinner over in a cab. I don't want the soup. Just the usual veggie option. And an organic chemical toilet and lots of rolls of recycled industrial paper towel. Oi'll give you a list...'
"The bitch! She wants us to feed her as well. And provide her with industrial paper towel. The cheeky sow."
"Put some poison in her dinner," Smegs recommended.
"Or some laxative."
We both stared at Angelica. How quite unlike her to express such a radical opinion. And what a perfectly excellent idea.
The reporter was back on the screen, summing up. We never saw Corinne climb down.
"Do you think she's still out there?" I wondered. "Poor Cee. Should we go out there and fetch her home? Or send Jeremy?"
Smegs consulted the clock. "Jeremy will be having his dinner. And if you've left him cooped up in the minibus all afternoon, he'll be wanting some sex. He wouldn't thank us for disturbing him when he's got a shed full of Senior girls."
"It would do him no harm to show a bit of moderation," I said sniffily. The others looked at me, blinking. I got up and went to the window. A powerful car was coming down the drive, its headlights painting a swathe through the trees. It passed below the window and swung out of sight. "It's the police!" I quavered.
"The police?" Angelica sat up straight, her eyes large and round.
"The police?" Smegs had found a mirror and was inspecting her mascara.
I made my way to the door. "I wonder if Corinne's been arrested..."
There were voices downstairs in the hallway. I peered over the bannister.
"Cee! They've brought you home! We saw you on the news."
"The bastards! They were poking their cameras right up my skirt!" She turned to the twelve-year-old policeman who had followed her indoors. He had his cap under his arm and was looking sheepishly around him. He seemed slightly disappointed that there weren't any of our famously buxom girls around. His eyebrows went up somewhat as I glided down the stairs like a heroine from somewhere in the Deep South.
"This is Miss Gruntworthy, the Headmistress of St Cat's," Corinne made the introductions. "This is Derek, who's kindly brought me home," she added, somewhat surprisingly. "Try not to stare too hard at Miss Gruntworthy, Derek, she sometimes forgets things."
Too late, I looked down at myself. I was still wearing my ultra large T-shirt, so my breasts were safely covered, but I became uncomfortably aware of a chill breeze coming from the open doors. It was hard to remember, but I thought I might in fact have removed my panties at some stage, possibly while watching Corinne on the news, clambering up the ladder in a miniskirt. The view as I descended the stairs would have been comprehensive, especially to a member of the police service, a trained observer.
"Good evening, Miss," Derek said hoarsely, his voice fluctuating between treble and basso profundo. God! He really was only twelve!
"Thank you for the lift, Derek, dear." Corinne was full of surprises. She placed her hands behind the constable's neck and raised herself on tiptoe to plant a soft kiss on his shocked lips. There was a certain amount of tongue involved and and it seemed to go on for hours.
"At your service, Miss," Derek said at length, clearing his throat and adjusting his trousers, which seemed to have a truncheon in the pocket. I wondered how he could drive with that in there. He was evidently about to try, as he reversed out of the double doors with some haste, giving an embarrassed little finger-wave to Corinne and me, but mostly to Corinne.
We watched the lights of the car as it roared away. "Oh, Shannie!" Corinne turned in my arms and I felt her breasts come between us like a pair of medium sized dogs inside her sweater.
"It's all right, sweet Cee! It was only on the national television news. Nobody will have seen all the way up your skirt to your deliciously moist crotch, seen those magnificent breasts thrusting out like twin beacons in the night. It will all have been forgotten by morning. Come up and tell us all about it." I disengaged from our hug and took her small hand. "We won the game, by the way. We stuffed them. And Angelica's giving mi..."
We were about halfway up the stairs, just before the staircase bent around to the right.
"Hold it, Corinne!"
"Turn round this way, love!"
"Look at me, darling!"
"I'm here, Corinne!"
"Give us a smile, sweetheart!"
A cluster of St Cat's finest girls had flooded into the hall and gathered at the foot of the stairs, pointing up at us. Corinne looked at me, horrified. There were tears in her eyes.
I rounded on the ringleader. "You! Evangelista Mephistophele! Stop it at once. You will write out fifteen thousand times, in your best handwriting, 'I Must Not Poke Fun At The Support And Mobility Mistress, Especially While Standing Below Her At The Foot Of The Stairs Leading Up To The Staff Domestic Quarters And ABSOLUTELY Not While Peering Lasciviously Up Her Gloriously Short Miniskirt At Her Magnificently Soft And Yielding Thighs And Delectably Rounded Little Bottom.'"
"Aaaargh!" Corinne sounded stricken.
"What about the capital letters, Miss?"
SMEGS STRETCHED, her arms way above her head.
Angelica watched her, wide-eyed. "Mee-gan! You are quite big, really, aren't you? You shouldn't hunch yourself up so much." She giggled and snorted. "Stick them out more, like the netball team." She suddenly clutched at her shirt with a horrified look. "Oh, no! I've got milk again!"
"Milk?" Smegs offered the standard response automatically. "Milk? You really are giving milk?"
"It started at the game. You didn't believe us? Look at my top, I'm still all sticky. It was pouring out. Spraying!"
Smegs jumped up from her chair and grabbed at Angelica's hand. "Quick! C'mon."
"What? Where?"
"My room. You can clean up there." Smegs squirmed like a Junior, tugging at Angelica's hand desperately. "Please!"
"But what about Cee and Miss Gruntworthy? They'll wonder where we've gone," Angelica stammered, but got to her feet regardless. She followed Smegs across the room, giggling. "Don't pull my hand off, I'm coming!"
"You will be," Smegs gasped, panting with lust. Angelica's hand felt like a red-hot coal between her fingers. "Come on, before that milk soaks through your bra..."
They literally galloped down the corridor to Smegs's room and the door slammed behind them. "Why are you locking the door? Mee-gan?"
"We don't want girls interrupting us, do we? Quick, take your top off." Smegs hopped from one foot to the other, waiting for Angelica to do something. The young teacher still hesitated.
"Wow!" She held her breasts with both hands. "They feel even fuller than last time. Like they're gonna burst!"
"Take it off, then," Smegs said through gritted teeth. "Before you explode. Here, use this towel."
"It's your best towel, Meeg, I can't. I'll make it all milky. Ouch, I'm getting so big!"
"Angelica!" Smegs was now hopping up and down on both feet simultaneously. Her breasts lolloped mightily. She decided to lend a hand, tearing at Angelica's bursting, bulging crop-top and whimpering with frustration. She became sidetracked and seized her shoulders, flung her arms round her and planted a huge wet kiss on her lips.
"Meeg! Oh, sheesh! Oh, my!" But Angelica offered no resistance, feeling her breasts squash massively against the taller woman's. She allowed her lips to part under the onslaught of Smegs's insistent tongue, and gave it a bit of mischievous tongue of her own. The effect was electric.
"Angie! Darling! My love! Just the two of us at last. I've waited so long for this, ever since I first saw you..." Smegs punctuated her words with wet, sloppy kisses, tugging strategically at Angelica's clothing. Angelica helped her, despite her jangling misgivings. The crop-top came off, already sploshy-soaked with milk, and Smegs dived in to deal with her bra. It was oozing milk, dribbling down the undersides of the golly-decorated cups to trickle further down Angelica's glistening dark-brown belly into the glorious mysteries beneath.
They weren't going to be mysteries much longer. Not at this rate.
"What about Miss Gruntworthy?"
"What about her? Fuck this thing, it's miles too tight!"
"She'll wonder where we've gone?"
"She's got Corinne." The bra strap came undone with a squelch, the cups slithering forwards down the milk-slicked slopes of Angelica's drum-taut breasts. They hung, teetering, from the crazily erect nipples.
"But they'll look for us..."
"Not in here. They'll never think of looking here. Come to bed!"
"Bed? It's only half past six..."
"Don't worry about that. Take your skirt off. Don't bother. Get over here and I'll do it! Shush! They're coming..."
"They were in here, watching television. You were on the news. They were looking right up your skirt, Cee!" I felt myself blushing prettily with the memory of it.
"The bastards. Screaming at me like a load of ... of ... schoolgirls. Derek shoo-ed them away when I was climbing the ladder, but you know what they're like. My knickers will be on all the front pages tomorrow."
"Oh, Cee!"
"Get off your knees, Shannie. I am wearing knickers. Unlike some I could mention."
Shamefaced, I retrieved mine from the arm of Smegs's chair but they were in no fit state to put back on. "Where have they gone? I was only away for five minutes."
"This seat's still warm." Cee felt the other chair with her hand.
"Angelica was sitting there. She's got milk, Cee!"
"Milk?"
"She was gushing. Absolute floods of it in the changing rooms. Perhaps the milk has come in again and they've gone to the loo..." I set off for the door. The thought of a lactating Angelica was starting to do things to my spleen.
Cee followed me down the corridor. We passed Smegs's room — the door was shut — and Angelica's. Cee looked inside. "Not in there."
The showers were empty, so were the toilets. "Where?"
"The restaurant, perhaps? Did they feed you at St Eth's?"
"No, but they'll have stopped serving now. And they couldn't have gone to the restaurant without passing us on the stairs."
"I know where they will be." Cee set off, with a determined glint in her eye. Her breasts looked immense. I don't know why I hadn't noticed it before.
It was hard work keeping up with her. I had to hang on to my bosom. "Wait for me, Cee. Where are you going?"
"They're in Megan's room!"
"In Smegs's? Doing what?"
"Shannie! Use your imagination! What would you be doing if you were Smegs and you had Angelica all to yourself, dressed in a skimpy crop-top and a micro-skirt and gushing milk?"
I had to stop and clutch at a doorway for support. "Stop it, Cee!"
She was already at Smegs's door, rattling at the handle. "Megan?" She pounded on the wood with a small fist. "Come on, we know you're in there!"
"I can't hear anything."
We listened for a few minutes. It was completely silent.
"Have they gone?"
Smegs shook her head. "They're still out there, waiting," she whispered. "Corinne is too clever. She'll wait for ten minutes if she has to. Shan would lose patience and go away. Kiss me again. Quietly!"
"Meeg!" It wasn't completely comfortable scrunched up on the bed like this with Megan on top of her, but for sure it was sexy. Megan hadn't stopped kissing her since she had gotten her skirt off. Kissing her all over. Strange, but she still had her panties on. Megan seemed to like the taste of them, although they were drenched with milk and ... sheesh! Angelica rolled her head back as another wave of incredible warmth flooded through her loins. Megan was drinking milk as fast as she could swallow, and still it gushed out. Her breasts felt like they were twice their normal size. Luckily it was too dark to see anything. "Mee-gan," she whimpered again. "Meeg!"
More pounding on the door. "Angelica? Are you in there?"
Angelica made a little kitten mewing noise.
"Don't answer, pet, she's only guessing."
"Megan, come on out!"
"Piss off," Smegs whispered. She began licking droplets of milk off Angelica's mounded, rounded stomach, working lower and lower. "We can have these off now, I think," she sighed softly, her fingers slipping inside the elastic and rolling the soggy panties down until they would go no further. "Lift your lovely bottom up a bit..." Smegs rolled slightly to one side, and her fingers caressed the hot chocolate of Angelica's juice-slickery inner thighs.
"Ooooh, woo-woo-woo..."
"Shhhhh!"
"I can't help it..." Angelica raised her plump buttocks one at a time, felt the moist scrap of cotton as it was tugged off and down her thighs. She had to ease them apart where they touched in the middle.
"Good girl! Now just lie still."
"Corinne's still out there!"
"It doesn't matter. She can't hear us if you don't make a noise." And Smegs lowered her head.
"MILK?"
"Yeah! Loads of it, squirting out all over the place."
"How do you mean?"
The First Form looked at the girl who asked the question. She shrivelled up into a ball and rolled away into a corner.
"Real milk? Out of her tits?" Valentina sounded slightly jealous. "Miss Grimbo hasn't got any babies."
"You don't have to have babies," Helvetica assured her. "They reckon there used to be a girl in the Juniors who gave gallons of milk, and she was no age at all, they said."
"Who was it? Where is she now?"
"Working in a dairy somewhere, they said. But you know what Middle girls are like. I think it was that Suzanne who said it, so it was probably all lies."
"But you don't need a baby to have milk," said another girl. " My big sister does it. It's called premature lactification."
"Relaxation," corrected Geraldine, sounding less than sure of herself.
"And Miss Grimbo's got premature relaxation?"
"Yeah. She was enjoying it, too. The whole team had a drink out of her boobies, then Miss Gruntworthy had some as well. Then we went out and won the game. It tasted great. Sweet."
"I know," said Valentina modestly. "I sometimes drink my own." She casually hoisted a fat breast to her lips, then brought the other one up as well. For a moment, they hung there as she held both plump nipples between her teeth. "Ouch!" They plummeted down.
"Serves you right," said Helvetica, wishing she could do that. She had discovered that she could now suck one nipple, but her breasts were so taut and firm it took quite a stretch to get her head down there. "Besides, you shouldn't drink your own milk. That's cannibalism."
The other girls considered this statement and nodded in agreement.
"Just because your tits are getting smaller," Valentina sneered.
"Smaller?" Helvetica sneaked a surreptitious glance in the full length mirror. It was inconclusive.
"Yeah. You were bigger at lunchtime. You've gone down since then. Geri's are nearly as big as yours now."
It was undeniable. The other members of the team were all gathered round, and the ones who had received a dob of cream from Miss Gruntworthy at lunchtime were noticeably even more puffy and thrusting than they had been during the game. There was no doubt about it: Helvetica was smaller. Not smaller than them, but smaller than she had been.
"What do you think you're staring at?" she stormed.
"You've shrunk, Vets!"
"I haven't!"
Helvetica fled from the room. The mirror in the bathroom was in no doubt at all about it. She stood in front of the wash basins and stared at her breasts. Magnificent, certainly, but not as big as they had been a few hours before. This was terrible, terrible! Were the rest of the team about to overtake her?
And although Helvetica took a huge breath before going back into the dorm, she knew. That night, ten minutes after the lights went out, she groped beneath the bed and found the plastic tub.
"I need to go pee."
"Do you have to?" Smegs pleaded in a piercing whisper. She gave a last lick and raised her face from Angelica's aching moistness.
"No, not yet! Go on doing that!"
"Make your mind up, girl! This, you mean?"
"Woooh! Meeg!"
"Or this?"
"Woo-woo-woo-WOW!"
The echoes of Angelica's scream rang around the room. They lay quietly, smothering giggles.
"I don't think there's any point in whispering any more," Smegs whispered.
"Why are you whispering then?"
"The same reason you are."
Angelica felt long-fingered, cool hands separating her soft thighs. She bit her lip in the darkness. "Can we put the light on now?" she asked plaintively. "It won't matter now if they see it under the door."
The bed creaked as Smegs leaned across, then the bedside light came on. Then Smegs was back, kneeling between Angelica's legs, leaning forward to kiss her eyelids, one, two. Two pairs of full, heavy breasts pressed close, closer. She could feel the intense, moist heat of Smegs against her own mound, feel the springiness of their mingled pubic hair.
"Your milk is so sweet, my love!"
"Meeg! Hold me tight for ever!"
They shuddered, clinging to each other.
"Do you still need to go to the loo?"
Angelica giggled. "Loo! Funny word. I think it may be too late. I'm so wet, it's hard to tell."
Smegs sat up and unwound her long legs to stand next to the bed. "Come on. It's gone midnight. It will be safe to go now. I'll come with you. Then we can go back to bed for the rest of the night."
"Ooooh, sheesh!" Angelica felt her massive breasts shiver heavily as she giggled again. "I hope you're thirsty, that's all!"
Smegs reached for her and helped her up. For a long moment they clung to each other, everything else forgotten; their kisses wetter and deeper and more probing as Angelica felt Smegs's hand snaking round beneath her broad buttocks, between them, seeking out her slickness. How much more of this could she stand?
Finally, together, they shuffled across to the door, and shared one more helplessly long embrace before Smegs turned the key and waltzed her lust-dazed partner away from the door to let it open inwards.
"You don't want me to carry you to the loo, do you?" she asked tenderly, bringing another girlish giggle from Angelica.
"I can still walk. Just about." And taking Smegs's hand in hers, she gazed up adoringly into her eyes and led her out into the corridor.
Where Corinne sat reading a book, sitting in an armchair.
"Good evening, girls! Or should I say good morning?"
"Cee?"
"How long have you been here?" Smegs gasped.
"About fourteen chapters. It's not bad. Quite sexy."
"I need a pee," said Angelica.
"I'm not surprised," Corinne said. "Don't let me stop you." She looked up with interest at Angelica's swollen udders as the gloriously naked teacher hurried away — everything in magnificent motion — then tugged her dressing gown tighter round her own breasts. "I suppose I ought to be getting to bed." She yawned ostentatiously. "Megan, would you mind helping me take this chair back to the television lounge? Chauntaille gave me a hand to bring it out here. She's gone to bed, poor girl. I think she was rather upset."
"Upset? What about?"
"Megan! She's crazy about Angelica, you know that!"
"Shan's crazy about everybody. She's crazy period."
"You've got splashes of milk all over your boobs," Corinne pointed out.
Smegs lifted a plump breast and lapped at it with a long tongue. "Is that all of it?"
"Some on the other one. Underneath."
"I can't reach that far down. Would you mind...?"
"Certainly not! Get your lover to lick it off. Or is she just a passive love-doll like an inflatable Kia?"
Smegs blushed deeply. "I'm going to the loo as well," she said, edging away.
"I'll get off to bed, then." Corinne stood up and stretched, then clutched at her dressing gown as it fell open. "God, I'm really huge," she complained.
They felt funny this morning. A bit woolly and tingly around the nipples. Helvetica wrapped the covers round her and turned over for a last five minutes' snooze as the unnecessarily loud clock chimed out across the icy quadrangle. As she did so, her nipples rubbed against the mattress. Instantly, she was wide awake.
She didn't dare look. It was dark, anyway: too dark to see anything. Raising her weight on to one elbow, she allowed a cautious hand to stray up to her breasts.
"Oh, shit!"
Somewhere, a girl snuffled in her sleep. Had Helvetica spoken out loud? No other voice answered her. She explored further. It was huge! It wasn't an illusion, it was huge. And so was the other one. Just her nipples; her moons, rather. They had definitely got smaller last night. Helvetica had reached for the tub of cream after lights out, but not with any particular hope of its having any effect. But this...
In a way, she felt elated. Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus Special Brew Two — Now With Added Puff — worked! The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group could hold its heads up — and its chests out — with pride.
In another way, Helvetica felt apprehensive. What would the other girls say when the lights came on and they clocked this little lot stuffed into her nightie. It didn't help that she had no idea really how big they were. The only indication was the way they felt in her hands. Perhaps it was misleading, and they weren't really as big as they felt.
Silently, her tongue protruding with the effort, she slid a leg out of bed on to the cold floor. Fumbling for her dressing gown which she had draped over the bed-covers, she plodded out of the dorm, crossed the dimly-lit corridor and felt for the light switch in the bathrooms.
"Oh, wow!" she gazed at herself in the mirror, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. "Oh, wow, oh wow!"
Valentina waited until Helvetica had tiptoed out, leaving a pale rectangle of light showing through the dormitory doorway. She got out of bed quickly, knelt down and felt beneath Helvetica's bed. Where was it? Ah, there it was!
She dipped a hand into the tub and scooped out a generous handful, before replacing the lid and pushing it closed with a click.
"Psssst! Girls!"
"Who's that?"
"Me, 'Tina. She's gone to the bogs. I've got it. Who wants a dob?"
"Me!"
"Me!"
"Me!"
"Me!"
"Me!"
"Me!"
"Me!"
"Me!"
"Me!"
"Me!"
"Me!"
"Not me, thanks!"
"Okay, Sally, you don't really need any. I think I've got enough for all the rest of you. Lie still and I'll come round the beds. Pull the covers back and get your tits out. We haven't got long."
Valentina hurried across the dorm and felt her way between the beds. Now her eyes were becoming adjusted to the darkness, she was able to locate each bed in turn, even to see the pale varying shapes of the breasts awaiting her, quivering eagerly with anticipation. Their owners squeaked happily as Valentina's warm fingers found each nipple unerringly and smeared a little bit on each one.
"Thanks, Tina!"
"Rub it well in, it will soon warm up."
She completed the tour of the beds and scuttled back to her own, slipping between the sheets just seconds before Helvetica reappeared. Valentina wondered what to do with the small amount of Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus Special Brew Two — Now With Added Puff — that still lay in her palm. With a shrug, she resigned herself to the inevitable and slapped it on to first one, then the other of her majestic bosoms. It felt warm and tingly already, or was that just the milk coming in?
Valentina sighed. Another day!
"Meeg! Again?"
"Just a quick drink, darling!"
Angelica sighed and stretched her limbs. She felt absolutely exhausted. Already, a glimmer of daylight was creeping through the curtains, the central heating radiator was clanking with the first driblets of the new morning's hot water and the unnecessarily loud clock was chiming out across the icy quadrangle.
And yet she felt deliciously aroused. Smegs's pointy tongue was flickering across her erect nipples. They had been erect for hours, both of them, and they almost ached. And her moons! Gently, she brought a hand up to one of them. It was further away from her chest than she remembered it being. And it was so full. Each full moon felt as big as her entire breasts had been — until so recently. A D-cup!
The thought of it excited her beyond measure. So did what her Meeg was doing to her down there.
"Don't stop, Meeg! Do me!"
"Yes!"
"Oh, woo. Woo-woo-woo! Meeg, yes, please!" And there was that now-familiar tingly, tickly rush as the milk seemed to well up in her swollen monster breasts. Smegs wasn't going to waste a drop. Her mouth was everywhere. Well, not quite everywhere. But where her mouth wasn't, her fingers were... "Waaaaargh! Mee-gan!"
"I CALL THIS meeting to order! Sit down, everyone, and be quiet!"
The teachers gasped at Corinne, but sat down quietly. It was a depleted workforce. Molly Malone was still out there on top of her block of concrete and Miss Gruntworthy was nowhere to be seen.
Corinne glared at her audience. There were just three chairs arranged in front of the green leather-topped desk upon which there was nothing but a single sheet of paper. Smegs strained to see what was written on it, but Corinne pulled it sharply towards her and slid it out of sight beneath her bosom. She could have hidden the Encyclopedia Britannica under there.
Miss Lundberg sat on the edge of her seat, Smegs looked aggravated. Only Miss Grimbeau was apparently blissfully unaware of the change of chairperson. She gazed dreamily up into Smegs's eyes. She had a well-loved and recently-milked look on her face.
"Miss Gruntworthy is indisposed this morning, so I will be taking the weekly meeting." Corinne had found a pair of spectacles from somewhere: she had propped them on the end of her nose and was peering over them. Her hair was up in a severe and forbidding style. It made her look twenty years older than usual. "Any questions?"
"What's wrong with Miss Gruntworthy?" asked Miss Lundberg.
"That's Item Five on the agenda. We shall come to it in due course. Any other questions? No? Good."
"Wait a minute," said Smegs aggressively. Miss Grimbeau whimpered softly and pawed at her lover's hand. Smegs clutched at Angelica's fingers firmly to prevent herself from showing weakness. "Who said you were Deputy Headmistress?"
"Miss Gruntworthy asked me to chair the meetings until further notice. That's what I am doing. Any further questions?"
"Until further notice? What's that supposed to mean? What's wrong with her?"
"That is Item Six on the agenda. We shall come to it in due course. Now, Item One. Minutes of last meeting. May we take them as read?"
"No," said Smegs in her most Bolshevik tone.
"All those in favour?" Corinne peered round at the meeting, and put up her hand. "Carried. Next item: Miss Malone and the Borcester By-pass Protest. I have had news this morning from a police spokesman..." she hesitated and blushed prettily, "that new developments are expected to be announced regarding the presence of Miss Malone on the concrete block which appeared on the television news last night." Corinne blushed prettily again.
Smegs snorted. "I should think you would blush, too, flashing your knickers in every home in the country!"
"I shall be having further meetings with the police during the course of the next few days," Corinne persisted, her voice becoming unsteady. "But we anticipate an epoch-making announcement shortly."
"What's an epoch, Edna?" Smegs leaned across the adoring Angelica and asked Miss Lundberg. "How do they make them?"
Miss Lundberg looked nervously out of the corner of her eye like a spooked horse. She whinnied briefly.
Finding herself in intimate contact with Angelica, Smegs was unable to resist the closeness of her inamorata. Her left arm slid around Angelica's unprotesting shoulders, and both their mouths opened embarrassingly wide as they plunged into a sopping wet kiss.
It went on so long that Miss Labia came in and served coffee.
"Ooooh, Mee-gan!"
"Oh, wow, Angelica! You are so good!"
"Ooooh, Mee-gan!"
"Angelica! Darling!"
"Ooooh, Mee-gan!"
"Angelica!"
"Ooooh, MEE-gan!"
"When you've quite finished," Corinne said in exasperation. "Some of us are trying to work."
"Make it quick. I think my Angie's milk is coming in again..."
"Milk?"
"Oh, for Chrissakes!"
There was a knock on my bedroom door. I had specifically asked not to be disturbed. "Who is it?"
"Me, Miss. Helvetica."
What did she want? Sodding Juniors bothering me when I just wanted to be quietly miserable on my own. "Come in, dear."
The door opened and a muffled figure hurried in and closed it quickly. The girl stood there on the rug, blinking at me. Anyone would think she had never seen a naked headmistress before.
I removed my mortar board and hung it on the bedpost to put Helvetica at her ease. "How can I help you?"
"It's my moons," she said abruptly, getting straight to the point.
Perhaps everything was not all gloom and doom. "Your moons? You'd better show me them. Open the curtains first, and let's get a good look."
She hurried to the window and twitched both curtains open, then stood looking down into the quad, nervously as if she was afraid of being seen in the headmistress's bedroom.
"Come on, dear, take your coat off."
Helvetica unwound three striped school scarves from around her neck, removed a heavy overcoat and threw it on the chair. She followed it with a raincoat, a three-quarter length jacket and a waistcoat, two sweaters and a large work shirt. Finally, she stood trembling before me.
"Come on! And the rest of it!"
Off came two extra-large T-shirts and finally her St Cat's school blouse. She was down to her bra, in a fetching shade of khaki.
"I see what you mean," I said, with a gulp.
"They grew last night," she explained.
"On their own?"
"Yes, Miss. More or less, anyway."
"More or less on their own? You've been using chemicals? Without adequate supervision?"
"Yes, Miss. But not experimental chemicals. We know this stuff works okay."
"What is it?"
"Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus Special Brew Two — Now With Added Puff, Miss"
"Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus Special Brew Two — Now With Added Puff? It works okay? What gave you that idea?"
"We've all tried it, Miss. Before the netball match. You saw how well it worked."
This was undeniably true.
"So why did you use more? You don't need to keep testing it out."
"Because I went down, Miss."
"You ... went down?" My mind boggled at the various implications of this statement.
"I was forty-four the other day, and I went up to forty-seven, Miss. We've got a tape measure with inches, specially for measuring our busts. Centimetres don't work for busts, Miss. Anyway, I noticed last night they were smaller. Not smaller smaller, but smaller than they had been after they got bigger. I mean, they were still bigger than forty-four, but smaller than forty-seven, Miss."
My head was spinning.
"So I rubbed some more on, just a little bit, on the moons. That was last night. Now look at them." She reached behind her and ripped the velcro undone with a dramatic gesture. Velcro could certainly transform bedroom scenes. As requested, I looked at them.
"Wow!" I said inadequately. "How big are they now?"
"I daren't measure them, Miss."
"You daren't...?"
"But I brought the tape measure, so you can. You don't have to tell me how big they are, it's just for your own information."
The girl seemed to know a thing or two about the workings of my mind. She wobbled colossally to her teetering pile of clothing, fumbled for a moment and emerged with a sixty inch tape.
"This was false economy, Helvetica," I said sternly. "Sixty inches was very short-sighted of you. You had better write out a hundred times, in your best..."
"Oh, Miss, leave it out and get the tape round my chest!"
"Oh, well..." But I could think of no valid reason not to. My hands shook. I don't have Clit's nerves of steel.
"Well, Miss?"
"Give me a minute!"
"It shouldn't take that long!"
"Hold it on your nipples. They're so puffed up and pointed I can't keep the tape stretched across both of them at the same time."
"Oh, Miss!" Helvetica sighed heavily. "There."
"Okay. It's ... oh, my goodness!" It was suddenly unseasonably hot in here.
"Miss Gruntworthy is not at all well. She has a temperature and is remaining in bed all day. She must not be disturbed for anything at all, no matter how unimportant or trivial. Any further questions?"
"But what's the matter with her?"
"She has a chill. But it may be something far deeper. She may have a broken heart."
Smegs and Angelica broke off their latest snogging session and came up for air. Angelica fumbled with her shirt buttons but her breasts seemed too swollen to fasten them, especially with her hands which were equipped with five thumbs.
"Thanks, Mee-gan." Smegs worked at the buttons for a while and succeeded in unbuttoning Angelica right down to the waist. Both breasts burst out triumphantly and began to leak milk on to the green leather-topped desk. "Oooh, wow! Woo-woo-woo-woo..."
"Meeting adjourned," Corinne muttered hastily, grabbing at a roll of industrial paper towel before Angelica could add to the array of stains on the desktop. "Same time next week...!"
"The funny thing was, Miss..."
Helvetica lay back on the bed, gazing at the ceiling while I massaged her breasts. "Is that better?" I asked her.
"Mmmm, yes! It's lovely. The funny thing was, I could feel how much smaller I was, and I had to rub myself with more of the stuff. I just had to! It was like a craving. My fingers ached, and my boobies tingled so much and the ends of the moons got red hot so I had to put some of that nice cool Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus Special Brew Two — Now With Added Puff — on them."
"And that made them feel better?"
"Mmmm, yeah!"
"For how long?"
"Oooh, all night. It still felt okay when I woke up this morning, only they felt so huge I had to go into the bogs to look at them. That was two hours ago. You know, I think they were even bigger and puffier then than they are now. Even though they're as huge as you say they are now, I still think they've gone down a bit since first thing this morning. That's why I wish that was Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus Special Brew Two — Now With Added Puff — you were rubbing on them now, Miss, instead of face cream."
"This isn't face cream."
"What is it?"
"Whipped cream from a can."
"Gosh, Miss! Are you going to lick it all off?"
"No, I mustn't. It wouldn't be right. I'd better just watch you lick it off yourself."
"What about the others, though, Miss?"
"The others?"
"In my class. The other girls."
"They haven't creamed themselves as well?"
"No, of course not!" Helvetica giggled helplessly. "You do have some weird ideas, Miss. No, but how am I going to hide these things from them. Even with all my clothes on, I still stick out miles."
"You're just going to have to tell them what's happened. Make a clean breast of it."
"Tell them I creamed myself with Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus Special Brew Two — Now With Added Puff, Miss?"
"Of course not! It would take too long. Tell them you just grew naturally."
"We've fed her this morning. One of the boys went and fetched her a bacon sarnie. She was bitching about wanting something veggie, but as soon as she got a whiff of bacon, she was hanging off the edge of the block trying to grab it. She's asleep again now. Do you want to go up and see her again?"
Derek the policeman made a move to fetch the ladder. Corinne shuddered. "No, thanks! The gentlemen of the press would enjoy nothing more, even with my jeans on." She ran a mischievous little hand down her rump. "Do you like them?" she asked coyly. "Not too tight, are they?"
"Erm ... no! They're just right."
"Good. How about my top? This sweater's a bit too small. It fitted yesterday, but you know how things are!"
"I do?"
"Of course! I'm a growing girl. Now, what was this news you had for me? Too important to tell the press, you said." Corinne turned and began to stroll along the frosty little path away from the protest site. It was an invitation for Derek to follow.
Derek closed his mouth, which had fallen open. Even from this angle, Corinne's bosom bulged out wider than her arms. Her trim bottom twitched alluringly in the tight jeans. She had a special way of walking, probably something to do with the weight she had to carry. Small feet, tiny steps. He gulped and hurried after her, adjusting his cap. "Yeah," he said as he caught up with her. She was tiny, only five feet tall. Looking down, all he could see was a sweater full of monster breasts. He had to force himself to look into her upturned face and speak normally. "It's ... it's strange, really. You know how much trouble they must have had, bringing this bloody great concrete block to shut off access to the route of the new by-pass?"
"Yes. Molly was saying it would take them weeks to move it out of the way."
"No, it won't. They don't need to."
"They don't...?"
"No. It can stay right here, with your Molly right on top of it."
"She's not my Molly..." Corinne stopped, raised her arms from her sides, then let them fall helplessly. It was a strangely childlike gesture. Then she looked at him and blinked. "It can stay? They're not building the road at all?"
"Oh, yes. They're just not going to build it here. Your Molly and her friends have got hold of the wrong plans. This was an alternative route. But it was miles too expensive. It goes through some bog and stuff that would need draining. Wetlands, they called them. Stinking bog, more like. Come to the car, I've got a map."
Corinne was intrigued. She followed Derek to the police car and sat in the passenger seat. The radio squawked unintelligibly at them as Derek ran a finger across the map. "Just here, see?" he said. "That's where we are now. The road is going through there, next to the railway and the canal, then across those fields, and it comes out just ... here. Then it carries on in a straight line to the motorway junction."
"I see!" Corinne giggled. "Poor Old Molly! She'll go ape-shit when she finds out. Then she'll want her mates to move the block down to there for her. Where is that, anyway?" With a little electric shock, she gently moved Derek's hand away. Her fingers were slender, not very long. She seemed to have one red-painted fingernail, longer and better-preserved than the rest, which she used to trace the route on the map. "Hang on! Just here?
"That's right. The route's been approved. They'll be starting surveying on Monday."
"But they can't! Not that route." Corinne opened up the map, shaking it like an impatient terrier. She jabbed at the unfolded paper so hard, her finger nearly went right through. "It will take the road right past the edge of Lord Ted's School playing fields, across the footpath, then ... straight through St Cat's woods! It cuts right along next to the boundary of St Cat's High School for Growing Girls!"
"Could be worse, Miss! Another twenty-five, thirty yards, and they'd come right through the middle!"
"Oh, yeah, Derek! That's really comforting news!" Corinne ran her fingers through her hair and thumped a tiny fist on the yielding plastic of the glove-box.
"Hey, careful, Miss! You'll set off the air-bag!" Derek looked at Corinne's tense, angry figure. If the air-bag went off, it would probably suffer from feelings of acute inferiority.
Corinne glowered at his twelve-year-old face. "And don't keep calling me Miss!"
"Sorry, Miss Meadowlark. What would you..."
"Call me Cee, for Chrissakes!"
Alpha, Bravo, Chrissakes. "OK, Cee. I'll run you back to the school, you'll be wanting to..."
Corinne wasn't hearing. "Trust Malone to chain herself to a hundred and fifty tons of concrete in the wrong place." Again, her finger traced the line of the road on the map. "Why couldn't the stupid bitch chain herself to something a bit more portable?" The map-reading light flickered and went out.
Derek jiggled it hopelessly. "You didn't set off the air-bag, but you've still buggered up my car. Oops, sorry, Miss. Language."
"Why are you keeping it in a bottle, Meeg?"
"Because it's precious. And there's too much for me to drink all on my own. We could bottle it and sell it, but it's got other fluids mixed in with it as well. Yours and mine. But we can use it for Sexual Chemistry."
"Use my milk? Oh, sheesh!"
"Don't you like the idea?" Smegs raised herself on one elbow and smiled down at Angelica. She leaned forward and gave her a little tender kiss, then took her full lower lip between her teeth and gently nibbled it.
Angelica shuddered and almost came for the thousandth time. Megan's fingers were tracing lazy circles round her areolae, carefully following the contour where the plumply swollen breast curved inwards while the areola took over and soared into tautly erect fullness. Easily the size of a halved melon, each fabulous purple-black moon, capped with a nipple as big as... "Oooh, Meeg! Yesssss!"
The unnecessarily loud clock chimed midnight. Suddenly daring, Angelica rolled a pleasantly surprised — and delighted — Megan on to her back. "What are you doing, Angelica?" Her voice quavered with anticipation.
"It's my turn! Why should you have all the fun?" At close quarters, Megan's staggering genitalia were even more outrageous than ever. Almost frighteningly so. But Angelica was driven by a need to bring pleasure to this wonderful big woman who had given her so much joy.
Megan twitched at the first touch of her lover's fingers, then her lips, cool against the overheated flesh. She shivered helplessly as the little pink pointed tongue caressed the slick opening of her labyrinthine womanhood. And then the most exquisite sensation of all, as Angelica took her sweetly-engorged clitoris into her mouth, between her teeth, even. Smegs's moan shook the windows in their frames and echoed across the chill quadrangle like the cry of a wild animal.
This was going to be a long night.
I heard the moan as I lay awake, and recognised the familiar voice. Normally, I would have been pleased for my bestest friend, finding such pleasure. It would have taken a whole bed-full of Juniors to bring such a howl of joy from her deep throat. This time, I knew, there was no bed-full of Juniors. Only a bed-full of delicious Angelica.
Why hadn't I seized my opportunity? She could have been mine — she should have been mine by right as headmistress. It was only proper that the headmistress should have her choice of the new teachers, and Angelica was the choice par excellence. Another moan; even louder, if possible. I wrapped the pillow round my head to keep out the noises of love-making from three doors away down the corridor.
It didn't work. A howl of unalloyed joy from Smegs practically brought the ceiling down. What was she doing to her in there? What were they doing to each other? For Smegs's voice was joined by another, just as abandoned and wanton, like a pair of cats in the night.
"Fuck this!" I slithered out of bed and grabbed for my dressing gown. Out in the corridor, the noise was deafening.
"Ooooh, oooh, oooh, Angel!"
"Yes, yes, yessss, Mee-gan!"
With fingers in my ears, I blundered past their door, which was vibrating like the head of a drum. Angelica's door stood open, her bed unmade. Her suitcase was open on the floor, with a trail of latex leisurewear scattered about the carpet where she had made her urgent selection of clothing for the evening's entertainment.
I hurried on, the noises of ecstasy washing around my head, down the stairs, past Corinne's door — she was going out to a meeting, she had told me — and out into the night. It was icy out there, cold enough to strike instantly through my carpet slippers, make breathing almost painful, bring a numbing erection to my nipples as my breasts swayed and bumped against my knees. Progress was necessarily slow without a bra, but the cries of mutual orgasm swept me along through the moonlit night. In through the door and up the stairs. Along the endless corridor and in through the wide doors.
There was a light on, a cluster of them sitting on a bed with a pocket flashlight between them. Instantly, I recognised the ancient St Cat's ritual of Strip Monopoly. Sally Chung was doing quite well, it seemed. Helvetica was not having such a good night. The yellow light cast eerie shadows of her grotesquely enlarged moons on the ceiling.
"Put an hotel on Pentonville Road, Helvetica, it's your only hope," I advised her.
"Miss!" She jerked violently and houses slithered across the board. The girls clapped their hands to their mouths in horror and tried to cover their bodies with anything they could find.
"Miss!"
"We couldn't sleep, Miss."
"It was too noisy, Miss!"
"We thought it was you, Miss."
"It's not me," I said mournfully. "It's Miss Mountains and Miss Grimbeau."
"What are they doing, Miss?"
The others looked at the anonymous girl with pity in their faces.
"They're making love," said Valentina. "Like you'll never do! Oops! Sorry, Miss, I didn't realise..."
Three or four of them gathered round and wiped away my tears with handfuls of industrial paper towel. It took several minutes for the girls to comfort me. One of them brought me an almost complete chocolate chip cookie and a glass of milk. "There you are, Miss. Drink it all up. It's still warm."
I hadn't realised how thirsty I was. I had almost finished the milk, then spluttered helplessly, choking on a cookie crumb. "Warm? Where did you get it?"
"It's mine, Miss," said Valentina. "I've got so much tonight, I don't know why! Arthur had his supper and there was still loads left over."
Unusual for me, I suppose. It must have been the stress I was under. I stared round at the intent little circle of girls, noticing for the first time.
"You're all going to have to see Miss Clitress first thing in the morning, aren't you!"
"Yes, Miss," they chorused happily.
Another ringing cry echoed out as a distant Angelica came for the billionth time.
"Christ, that was a biggie, Miss Grimbo!"
The girls giggled. I perched my shameful, shameful rump on the bed, and they made room for me. "We'll never get any sleep tonight, not with that row going on," I said. "Let's have another game."
"You'd better wear a few more clothes, Miss!" Valentina was already pulling on a number of sweaters and socks. She tossed me a hat and a number of other girls contributed various items. I tried to choose fairly so none of them felt excluded. I selected the driest and least stained of the panties and pulled them on, watched with fascination and delight by the others. Somebody even raided a wardrobe and found me a 46-inch skirt, which was most kind.
"Right," I said, grabbing the dice and indulging in a brief and silent struggle for the little dog. "Who's in? Usual rules?"
"Yeah, St Cat's Rule Book, Issue Five!" Helvetica waved a thick wad of stapled sheets at me. "The Dog has first throw. That's you, Miss!"
Girls can be so considerate.