Tales Told Out Of School. 1. A Kitten in Delightful Trouble.

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Stage Two.

“I suggest you check yourself personally, down there, inside your knickers--which, by the way, are none too secure--and not just your legs. You have a trail of splinters along the back of both of your legs that lead up to you, there... and which disappear up into those"...he waved his hand casually in the air as he mentioned those... "unmentionables..., in a place where the sun does not shine. I saw that much as you backed down toward me.”

Yes he had. (And in that mirror. The sod!).

He’d seen more than that too when he had adjusted her panties with her half way down that ramp, and had them almost drop into his hands once he had freed them from her lips. Those other lips.

So, he had looked. Of course, he had.

She would have to think about that. However, she turned her back to him, lifted her skirt at the front, and delved down into her loose panties, afraid of what she would find, knowing already what she would find. She was hurting. She knew that he would have volunteered to do that for her too. She moved her legs and pushed her hand between them to feel under her.

He saw her flinch, and then blush back toward him as she let her skirt drop, to cover herself. He quickly wiped the smile off his face.

She saw then that he had watched her do that in that damned mirror again; had even seen her push her hand into her panties. There were mirrors all around the kitchen, but the wood was dark, and the mirrors were there to lighten it up. She was blushing. What had he not seen of her by now?

She had a difficult decision to make, and did not relish making it, but she had some questions to ask first. She would try to gain back some ground and take charge, but she wasn’t sure she could. He didn’t seem like the few other boys she knew, and he did not look to be one who might be intimidated. She had to start somewhere.

“I know you said you live here. But who are you?”

She wanted a testimonial as to his good character? Good luck with that one.

“Peter Watson. Mrs. Watson, your groundskeeper, is my mother.”

That explained why he was here. She had wondered who he was.

Fortunately, he did not need to shake her hand; or was he afraid he might catch something from her after she had touched herself so personally in her panties? Yet he had sniffed at her skirt, and there... earlier. She was more curious about that, than judging him. It was what boys seemed to want to do when they were alone with a girl, or so the other girls at school said.

“And you know who I am.”

“Yes, I do. You are Erin; demon hockey player, white-panties-charming”—he looked at her breasts, wondering if he dare say more, but decided he did not need to say anything equally daring about them, though they did speak to him—“hormone-disturbing, and in your final year at school."

Yes, hormone-disturbing.

He paused. “Why do none of you girls wear black underwear when you play Hockey? They wouldn’t get so obviously dirtied.”

But they wouldn’t attract so much intense curiosity from the likes of him, either.

Stay with the white panties. Please.

She ignored that last question and would not talk about underwear, which all boys seemed to fantasize about, and getting them off a girl... and that was the least of what they dreamed about.

How did he know she was in her final year? Except she would stay an extra year if she could, try and catch up on Math, and take a couple of additional subjects.

“So now we have been introduced. Hello, Erin. Glad to meet you, and what a first meeting!” He beamed at her.

“Hello, Peter Watson.” She nodded, frowning, not sharing his enthusiasm, deciding to stay formal, half afraid he would still lean in and try to kiss her. He had that look on his face.

“Peter.” He reached out and they shook hands as he looked into her eyes. He had a large hand which engulfed hers, and a very firm grip that almost shook her panties loose. It took her a few seconds to get her hand back. She had not noticed that he was relatively tall, or just how well-built he had been when she had seen him before, but he had been quite far away at the sidelines, and then below her when she had been stuck on that ramp. His stocky build made him look shorter than he was.

She felt peculiar about this, and her heart and mind were both misbehaving. “What school do you attend…, Peter? I never really saw you before. What are you doing here? Term doesn’t finish for a few more days.” Her voice did not sound like her own. She was sure she was blushing under his intense gaze, and she began to wish she was somewhere else. Anywhere else, as she stopped her panties falling completely from her. He smiled at her, knowing the difficulty she was having.

He was fighting with corresponding difficulties of his own.

“I live here. I do not attend school. They threw me out of school early.”

He corrected that. “I am at university.” She had already known that. “I finished all my exams early, and the results won’t be posted for a few weeks, so I came home to work for a week or two, or three.” Or more. He was remaking those plans even as he spoke.

“Are you not too young to be at University?” He looked at her and smiled. He knew what she was trying to do. She had better forget about trying to gain a superior position over him. He held all the cards, and her knickers were about to fall down if she were not careful. One brief moment of inattention and they would be settling around her ankles. Not a very decorous circumstance from which to try and dominate a discussion with an intent male.

“Maybe.” He was smiling again.

What kind of an answer was that? “What are you studying?”

“Math. Second and third-year Math.” That floored her.

“But you are in your first year.”

He sighed. “Finishing my first year. What can I say? I’m a genius?” She detected the sarcasm. “I am working on my thesis too.” He didn’t like being different, or out of the main stream, but then neither did she, and she was; in all but math.

What did he expect her to say?

“I did hear that Mrs. Watson’s son was offered a place, but I didn’t know he was you. How old are you?”

“Eighteen. And I’m an only son.” He looked a lot older. “And you?”

“Seventeen.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Seventeen, is under age in this state, even if not in the one you come from." His mind was still on that. "So, while you are residing at the school, you are under age.” He looked and sounded disappointed. “You should not lead a man along like that and give him hope.”

Hope of what? As if she needed to ask.

She knew where his mind had been. Surely he was joking. It didn’t sound as though it would be safe for her to stay, if that was the way his mind was working. He was outrageous. She hadn’t led him along.

She daren’t laugh or her panties would drop. What was he thinking? What had he hoped? Unfortunately, it was too damned obvious, but she wasn’t running. She couldn’t.

He never seemed to let go of that thought. He had a one-track mind, like all boys... men... but at least he talked. Talking was safe. But she would leave as soon as she could.

Why did it matter if she was seventeen or eighteen? She knew why it seemed important to youths and men. They always played this devious kind of game with the girls at the school-dance each term when boys from another college were invited to the dance. As the evening progressed, the less shy ones worked their way closer to the girls and struck up a conversation. From there it could go in any one of several directions.

One of them had even tempted them with liquor (a big no-no, and he’d better not get caught doing that) hoping to be the one to get them soused, and then get into their knickers and fuck them somewhere outside, or in a remote part of the school, perhaps in one of the toilets.

That kind of boy was too obvious. Just like this one, and nothing ever happened. It required much more subtlety and forethought than that, and at least a few weeks of meeting and speaking together. Even then, you had better not trust them.

It was becoming obvious that he had considered bringing her in here to somehow maneuver her into doing that to her too. He just wanted to fuck her! All boys did. Well he wasn’t going to be given the chance. She would stay in control until she was able to get back to school to see to herself, and if he tried anything….

Her defiant, combative-side, unwisely chipped in again.

“I’m not from this state.”

Blabbermouth!

He sighed. “That doesn’t count in this one. Eighteen is the age of consent here.”

“Then perhaps I am safe again.” She had better not bank on that. She heard him say something under his breath.

‘In theory only. And not with a body like that. Too bloody tempting!’

He spoke up. “Perhaps I should have left you in the stable to get yourself down. It would have been safer for both of us I think.”

“Pardon?” She had heard everything he’d said, even the bit before the last comment.

“Nothing. And no, I couldn’t, not have helped you (ooh, a clever double negative), so we are now here.” He sounded like he was beginning to regret it, or was not sure what he had got himself into.

She glided over all of that and changed the topic to one that was safer than discussing age of consent. “So, you’re a math whiz. Lucky you. Math is not my strong point. I may fail if I don’t improve my grade.”

“Yet you have straight A’s in everything else.”

Now he was the blabbermouth.

She looked up at him. How the hell did he know that about her?

That meant that he came into the school and saw the bulletin boards and had looked specifically for her name. How had he got away with doing that and without getting caught? Now she really was curious about him.

He explained. “I was curious about you.”

Okay, so they were curious about each other in more ways than one, but it was difficult to put that one (the one in his shorts) aside, with him standing in front of her constantly unnerving her as she wondered about it. She had never seen one of those male things except on a baby, and this one was obviously nothing like that had been, but big enough to jar loose a few of her fillings!

“I watch you at hockey games and at practice whenever I am home, but I stay in the background so you haven’t noticed me that well. For the last week I saw that our running schedules are about the same. I run behind you, early morning before the rest of the girls are moving, each morning.”

The devious devil!

“I watch for you to leave school and then run quite far behind you. It’s not safe being out alone for someone as attractive as you are. I am careful not to be seen.” She hadn’t seen him, even though there had been no one else out at that early hour of the morning.

So he thought her attractive to go along with all of the other things he had gradually let slip, and at least he hadn’t waylaid her on one of her runs, but he must have thought about it if he found her as attractive and tormenting as he had suggested under his breath. She’d better keep her mouth shut or she might dig herself in too deep.


He ran some water into a basin and she saw him bring a first aid kit to the table, a towel and other things. He seemed to intend business, fortunately, and was not about to abandon her, but she was not sure she should let him do anything for her after that conversation about age of consent, or about her body, and the way her panties were likely to drop. But what choice did she really have?

He turned to face her. “We now face the same problem as before, except this time your skirt will have to come off, or I will never get those splinters out.”

She swallowed and resumed breathing with difficulty.

She would still have her panties on. Maybe.

“You are sure no one will come?” Not an outright, no, from her, but he detected some concern.

“It’s private here. Nobody comes into the house. We won’t get caught doing this, Erin. This, or whatever else we happen to get up to if we have time and get carried away in the heat and excitement of the moment. No one will come.” His eyes glinted with that damned sense of humor again.

Except for him, if he got too excited over what he was doing to help her, and then he would definitely come.

She went red, and stuttered, knowing what he was saying, implying, despite her telling him that she was underage. And what did he mean about getting carried away?

“Are you… are you always this forward with a… a girl?”

“Always, when she is as beautiful as you are.”

He corrected himself before he got too carried away, but she was already gobsmacked.

“No, you are the first. I thought I was being very restrained rather than forward, considering how I feel.” She knew all about how he was feeling, and was well aware of the five-hundred-pound gorilla in the room… in his shorts, and raging to get out!

“The temptations and opportunities so far have been killing me since I first saw you sitting there, hung up, and... er... exposed as you were.

“After I had watched you playing hockey I often wondered how I could approach you, introduce myself in this antagonistic all-girl, male-hating environment, but there was never an opportunity; not with the whole school looking on, and then this happened to bring us together.”

He leaned over her and smiled. “Alone at last. I think it was fate, ma cherie, don’t you?”

He thought nothing of the kind, but was constantly probing to find weakness; some point of access, vulnerability, to introduce himself, but what, of himself, and where, did he want to introduce himself? As though it wasn’t obvious. And she was trapped here with him!

She gently pushed him back from her. “I don’t believe in fate.”

Liar! She dreamed about it all of the time.

She had noticed his constantly admiring glances as he had smiled at her. He seemed to know what she was thinking and feeling. She could no longer sense her panties.

Maybe she wasn’t safe. Most people had one face for the public to see, but were very different in private, as her own mother constantly demonstrated. Maybe he was the same. She was already trapped with him. And once her skirt came off...?

She should leave. But she couldn’t. Not now.

“Okay, enough levity and tormenting. You are hurting, and we need to see to this before you can get back to school as I know you are aching to do.”

He was aching in a different way, but he couldn’t discuss that with her or she'd get scared again.

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