Correcting a mistake.
Iris worried about the impression she’d created for that young man all that night, deciding how best to correct it without going quite as far as Emily had suggested, but they were running out of time. The sooner she made amends, the better.
The following day, Iris chose her moment.
She cut short her gymnasium class soon after that, and just after the lesson had begun, pleading injury after she fell hard on the gymnasium floor after a brief tussle to recover a ball, She had fallen deliberately with a lot of complaints and moans and groans, and had minor scrapes to see to and begged to be excused for the rest of the hour and was allowed to leave.
She didn’t care that she was even more lightly dressed now, in just her older panties again, no skirt, and a light and short top over her bra, revealing a wide swath of skin across her middle above her panties, fastened about her, pulled tight, and with a safety pin in them so that they would not drop off her, but they were still precariously settled on her hips. She didn’t care.
Who might see her, other than girls, and one other that she intended to let see her? She had left early, determined to find him; pleading to the mistress that she needed to see to her scrapes and bruises from when she had fallen. She limped off.
She went immediately back to the change room, near to where Tony Harcourt was working, ignoring her minor bruises. It had been easy to find out where he was working and knew that there were no other girls around. She made sure that everything was clear for what she intended to have happen between them in the change room.
She guiltily recalled what Morgana had said to her about confusing on that other occasion by standing over him in that short skirt and her older and less respectable threadbare white panties she played hockey in. The ones she was wearing even now.
She couldn‘t remember if she’d still had them on at that moment. She’d been overheated that particular day, and may have removed them, as well as her bra at the fountain to rinse them out and cool herself off, just a few steps away from the change room as he’d repaired that wall. She had not known that he was there, until she almost tripped over him. He had undoubtedly and unavoidably looked up at her, up her skirt, and almost certainly had seen up her much shorter tank top, with her standing so close over him, and had seen… what? Everything? It did not bear thinking about.
Morgana had been right about her being careless in her attire. She’d even had her bra in her hand—she remembered that—but could not remember about her panties until afterward when her anger had died down, and she had become cognizant of her state of dress, or more accurately, her state of undress.
She had almost died of embarrassment when she had recalled all of that and what she had assumed, wrongly, about him, and had said. She had indeed flustered the poor man. She was so annoyed that she had forgotten about the way she was dressed, and about protecting her modesty at all times. After that, and learning that there had been a wasp’s nest, she realized that the only right thing to do was to try and make amends for what she had wrongly assumed, and as Emily had suggested, if she had courage. Anything less would never be enough.
Fortunately, Tony Harcourt was still working in that area of the schoolyard. He hadn’t gone far but was still putting finishing touches to pruning branches off a large tree overhanging the furnace room for the pool and for their showers.
She swallowed her embarrassment and caught him while he was up his ladder. She hoped he might not remember everything she’d said, or about how devoid of clothing she had been, but she was little better now, except she did have her bra and panties on this time, at least she would have them on for a while. Until she got him into the change room.