Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Dee Does HS 6 By peregrinf

   "Good morning, darling," Mom greeted me as I dropped my backpack by the
front door.  "All dressed for school, I see."

   I looked down at myself, my nipples poking out merrily, enjoying the
morning air, my freshly washed pussy hair, what there was of it, waving in
the breeze.  The only thing separating me from the rest of the world was my
socks and sneakers.

   "I'm trying for a fashion statement."

   "I'd say it makes one."

   "Do you think it's too much?"

   She laughed.  "Or too little, depending on your perspective, I suppose.
But, since you're in The Program, it's appropriate.  Oh, I dug around and
came up with Carl's copy of the NiS rule book for you.  You might want to
try to get an up-to-date version, though I doubt it's changed much."

   "Thanks." After flipping through it I stuffed it in with the rest of my
books.  I hated to admit I'd never read the thing, but I hadn't expected to
be thrust into The Program in the first week.

   Now, thanks to Me and my Big Mouth -- no, it was obviously The Stick's
fault -- The Program was going to be the center of my existence, and not
just for this week.  Not that I really minded being in The Program, of
course, but if I was going to be taking on Mr.  Worthington, or
"Worthlesston" as I'd taken to thinking of him, I did need to be armed with
facts.  I kind of suspected he was making up his own rules as he went
along.

   "And what's with the towel?" she asked, as I covered my chair at the
breakfast table with a hand-towel from the linen closet.

   "The school's seats are cold," I explained, "and I did some research on
nudism and naturism and it is considered good etiquette to carry a towel to
sit on -- hygiene and all that.  As long as I don't try to hide behind it
it is legal."

   "I wonder why Carl never thought of that?"

   "Boys are different," I pointed out, reaching for my orange juice.

   "I've noticed," she responded dryly.  She was busy dishing out French
toast and bacon.  Mom had figured out it was quicker and more efficient to
do French toast than to juggle bacon, eggs, bread and a toaster.  She'd
just scramble some eggs in a shallow soup dish, dip hearty, whole-grain
bread in it and fry it up while broiling the bacon.  Before I sit down I
nuke the syrup -- real maple -- ten seconds or so to get it hot and after I
butter the stack and drizzle hot syrup I dig in.

   That, a glass of orange juice and a bigger glass of milk and I was ready
to face the day.  Without a big breakfast, with plenty of carbs, by about
ten o'clock my metabolism crashes and I fall asleep in class.

   "And speaking of that committee, did Mrs.  Devers give any kind of
timetable for getting it set up?" Mom asked, joining me.

   I shook my head.  "She said she'd have to run it past The Powers That
Be, but didn't think there'd be any trouble.  I hope it's soon, or by the
time we get some answers it'll be too late."

   "I thought of a way to give it a nudge, but I don't want to joggle your
elbow."

   I shrugged.  "Nudge away, as long as it can't be traced back to me.  I'm
not supposed to talk about the committee until it's announced, but I
figured since you're my mom I could talk with you without needing to worry
about causing an uproar in school.  No way you'd blab."

   "Thank you for your trust!" She sounded genuinely grateful.  "Okay,
here's my idea.  Your story about -- who was it?  -- those two boys and
Peggy?"

   "Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber -- Misters Cagney and Lacey, I found
out from Mrs.  Devers.  I just think of 'em as 'the Tweedles.' It's
simpler."

   "It gave me the chills, what might have happened to Peggy if they'd
violated her with their filthy fingers."

   "Is it 'violated' if it's part of The Program?"

   "A far as I'm concerned it is if she doesn't give permission!  Anyway,
you've spotted a real, immediate hazard.  I thought maybe if I dropped a
word with Elaine and she alerted the school nurse it might motivate the
administration.  There's no way it could be traced back to you talking with
me about the committee.  She's just a concerned medical professional
suddenly aware of what's going on and pointing out the danger.  It would
have been better if she'd said something sooner, say when Beth was in the
program, but if she had, the problem would have already been solved."

   I thought it over as I enjoyed a bite of French toast, and nodded as I
swallowed.  Mom's not big on me talking with my mouth full -- good thing
she doesn't sit at my lunch table.  "Just don't mention anything about a
committee.  Maybe she can say it's come to her attention, and she's
concerned, and yada yada yada." I waved my fork.

   Mom nodded, and I paused with another bite halfway to my mouth.  "Where
is Elaine?  You two haven't had a fight, have you?"

   Mom dimpled.  "No, dear.  But she does have a place of her own, you
know."

   I shrugged.  "She could move in here, the amount of time she spends
here." Mom turned pink, and I realized I'd stepped over the line and
changed the subject.  "Anyway, I was thinking last night, I'm going to have
to make a quick decision on who to recommend from 9th grade -- a boy, I
mean -- and I don't think this week's victim would be right for it, even
though he is very sweet."

   "And you'd know this how?" she asked shrewdly, and it was my turn to
turn pink.

   She smirked, and I made a finger-stroke in the air, indicating she'd
scored a point.  "Anyway, every committee member has to have experience in
the program."

   "Even the faculty member?"

   "Even him -- or her."

   "Oh boy!"

   I giggled at her reaction.  "Anyway, to get experience, whoever I
recommend has to be in the program as soon as possible."

   "Good point."

   "So I'd better come up with someone today, and hope Mrs.  Devers can
juggle the schedule if she can."

   She agreed.  "And I've had another thought, too, of something you should
move fast on.  Unless you're careful, the faculty member will wind up
running the committee by default."

   I could only nod in agreement on that point, working as I was on a piece
of bacon at that moment.  I'd already thought of that, but couldn't figure
out a solution.  Worthlesston would wreck the committee if he ran it.

   "You might point that out to Mrs.  Devers when you see her, before
you're presented with a fait accompli."

   "A what?"

   "A 'fait accompli.' That's French for 'an accomplished fact,' or 'a
thing already done.'"

   "Oh."

   I eyed my mom with renewed respect.  "How come you know stuff like
that?"

   "I was on a debating team in college, young lady, didn't you know that?
And I was President of the French Club in high school."

   "Neat!"

   "Anyway, drop that little note in her ear when you see her, before
things get too far along.  Maybe there's some way for the committee to
choose its own chair.  Ask her."

   "Thanks." I looked at the time.  "Gotta dash, I want to take a different
route to school this morning." I hustled my dishes into the dishwasher.  I
never leave enough on them to need rinsing.

   "Don't' forget your towel!"

   "Oh, thanks." Scooping it up I tucked it into a strap on my backpack and
shrugged the pack on.  It felt funny to have it on my naked back, but I
knew I'd get used to it quick.  I'd done it before.  "See you tonight."

   "Have a nice day, Sweetie." She insisted on giving me a hug and a kiss,
and I didn't object, even though I was in a hurry.  I never turn down a hug
from Mom.  I scampered down the front walk and enjoyed the feeling of being
naked in the morning air, the sun warm on my breasts and shoulders.  I
always feel so alive when I'm out in the open in nothing but skin.

   Mike Collins lived a couple of blocks out of my way and I was hoping to
sort of accidentally on purpose bump into him on the way to school.  I
haven't had the time to get to know many boys in my class.  Of the ones out
of my middle school I knew Mike the best, and except for a hormone
hurricane last year he seemed pretty level-headed.  I'd had a terrific
crush on him in middle school, but, in a fit of testosterone madness, he'd
fallen for my former BFF Missy, to his lasting regret, even though he'd
taken her virginity (and mine) in one amazing, mortifying afternoon.  I
could sort of feel him out about The Program without tipping him off
anything was going on.

   Anyway, I lucked out, passing his house just as he came out.  The first
thing he noticed was that I was naked, of course.  Now, he's seen me naked
before, even plumbed my depths once, but I still have an impact on him,
especially now that I'd developed some bulges and curves.  His pants
saluted me nicely.

   "How come you're naked again today?"

   I made a face.  "Oh, you know, yesterday I mouthed off to Mr. 
Worthington.  He didn't specifically say I was in The Program for the week,
but I figured I might as well just assume it and start the day this way."

   So that led to a talk about The Program, of course.  Mike knew he'd be
in it sooner or later.  He, of course, was one of The Dirty Dozen, the
group of us that emerged from Carl and Beth's sex ed program last year with
the task of educating our peers.  Mike wasn't uncomfortable exposing his
naked body, not that he should be.  He's not only athletic but nicely
endowed as well, and also knew how to use his appendage, having introduced
it to me, and he'd subsequently gained considerable experience with Missy,
before she'd trashed that relationship.

   Even so, he was worrying about what some upper-class fem might ask him
to do.  Girls didn't make requests often, but rumor had it some of the ones
they did ask of the boys were pretty embarrassing.  I tried to reassure him
on that.  Naturally I couldn't mention the committee to him, but his
knowledge and attitudes about The Program made me confident he'd be a good
person to have by my side.

   We got to school early enough I was able to grab some time with Mrs. 
Devers and suggested him as the boy from my class.

   "I know Mr.  Collins.  He's a good choice.  But, he needs a week in the
program, right?"

   I nodded.

   "The upper-class members aren't a problem," she went on.  "We have the
pick of those who've already been in The Program, and I have some
candidates in mind.  But all the freshmen boys have the same problem -- no
program time."

   "Can he be gotten into it soon enough?  Who picks the people?"

   "I'll take care of it.  He'll be in next week, but don't tell him, of
course.  It's supposed to be a surprise.  Which leaves us with the faculty
member.  He, or she -- I'm not taking anyone as a given -- will also have
to be in The Program.  I can't do anything on that until the committee plan
is approved."

   This woman doesn't waste time, was my thought.  "Mom had one other -- oh
oh, I hope it's all right I talked with her about the committee." I broke a
sweat, afraid I'd spoiled everything.

   Mrs.  Devers nodded.  "Knowing you and your mom, I would have worried if
you hadn't.  I assume she's sworn to secrecy."

   "Uh huh.  Anyway, she pointed out that the faculty member might
automatically assume he, or she, will run the committee."

   "And?"

   I took a deep breath before I launched into the speech I'd been
planning. "We, the students, are the ones most intimately affected by The
Program, and I do mean intimately.  I don't think it would be right to have
the faculty member chairing the committee.  He'd dominate and we'd be
stifled."

   "You make a good point.  What do you suggest we do about it?"

   "I don't know," I admitted.  "Maybe the committee as a whole could elect
the chair.  At least that way we kids have a chance.  Make it clear when
the committee is formed that is the rule.  Can you do that?"

   Her eyes were so cool, so gray as she studied me.

   "It was my mom's idea," I admitted, looking down.

   Her lips quirked up in a little smile.  "She's a wise woman."

   "Yes'm," I agreed.  "Can you do it?"

   She had that secret little smile going again.  "Something can be done,"
she answered, turning to her bookshelf and taking something down.  "I think
you could use this." She handed me a real thick paperback book with a gold
cover.

   "Robert's Rules of Order, Newly Revised," I read off the cover.

   "It's virtually the bible for running a meeting of almost any kind. 
It'll help you keep the committee organized."

   "Me?  I don't want to be organizing things!"

   The look she gave me wasn't reassuring, though her words were, sort of.
"Right now, you are the committee.  You're it.  Later it can be you, or
someone else," she allowed.  "Find some way in there to make it so the
committee elects the chair."

   I looked at it, riffled through it to the back, totally intimidated. 
"It's 700 pages long!  Small print!"

   "Don't worry, you won't need ninety-nine percent of it, but that last
one percent can save your bacon.  It's got a good index.  Don't try to read
it all, just pick out the parts you may need -- like electing officers --
then we'll talk when it's time.

   "Even if one of you students is chair, the faculty member may try to
dominate.  It'll be up to you to keep that from happening, and that," she
indicated the book, "will provide the tools you need.

   "Now, that's the homeroom bell, so you'd best be off.  I may have more
information for you by the end of the day."

   The book added weight to my already heavy backpack, I heaved a sigh as I
left and plunged into the day, which began with a few requests that had me
juicing before I even made it to homeroom.  A couple of boys toy with my
nipples and it's like I've got a direct wire from them to my pussy.  The
teacher raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything when I put my towel down
before I sat.

   "Mr.  O'Brien?" Mrs.  Tisdale inquired in response to Dennis's waving
hand.

   "Uhm -- may I have relief?"

   I felt a tingle at the thought of sucking him off yet again, and got a
sly idea.

   Mrs.  Tisdale sighed.  "It is only homeroom, Mr.  O'Brien -- but I guess
we have time, but try to listen during announcements?"

   "Yes'm," he agreed, looking hopefully at me.

   I didn't hesitate as he moved to lean his naked butt back against Mrs.
Tisdale's desk, his prick already standing at attention.  I knelt in front
of him and licked my lips in anticipation.  Based on my limited experience,
his dick's not overly large for a fourteen-year-old, but very pretty,
circumcised, with a nicely sculpted shaft capped with a lavender head. 
After a quick lick, I looked up, my lips almost kissing the tip.  "I'm
going to want relief, too, later.  You want to do me in bio?" I asked
softly.  "I'll be happy to teach you how."

   The response of his cock was all the answer I needed.  I hadn't realized
it could get even harder and larger!  He nodded eagerly as I set to work,
sliding his hot sausage down the length of my tongue, tasting his delicious
seepings.  I really do love the feeling of a hot, live pecker in my mouth,
especially seasoned as his was with a hint of pre-come.  His fingers
tangled in my untamable blond locks and I heard him groan as my head moved
forward, fucking my face on him.

   He didn't last long.  I triggered his coming, my fingers dandling the
eggs in the little dusky sack between his thighs.  Just to be impertinent,
I let a finger stray back to tickle the pucker of his asshole just as he
let fly.  He gave a grunt and a lurch and his jetting pecker entered my
throat.  Fortunately I was able to open my esophagus to the first hot gush,
so I didn't inhale it.  I drew back to catch his last spurtings on my
tongue, rolling them around, savoring the musky scent and the hint of
saltiness.  I heard a soft "oh shit" from him as his pulsings slowly faded
and his cock began to shrink.  I'm not sure anyone paid much attention to
the announcements droning over the PA system as I drained his balls and
cleaned off the last tasty oozings.

   My own pussy was streaming in reaction to that and in anticipation of
working with him in bio.  And anyway, it was my duty to teach him, wasn't
it?  The kids from other middle schools hadn't had the advantage of The
Dirty Dozen's advanced tutelage.  By the time I was done doing my
show-and-tell this week my intent was to make sure they'd gotten a thorough
education.

   As before, I curtseyed in response to an ovation before I returned to my
seat, my thighs sticky from my own juices.  Roaming the halls naked kept my
libido perking, of course, especially when boys wanted a quick feel or
show. It wasn't easy, but I managed to save myself for Dennis until we were
together again in bio, just before lunch.

   My request for relief wasn't unheard of, but was much more common coming
from a boy than a girl.  The classroom had lab furnishings, so I perched
myself on one of the stools, the big front lab bench at my back, my long
legs dangling, my aroused pussy on open display from the front of the room.


   Dennis, after washing his hands at my request, was more than ready for
his little lesson, and I figured while the rules allowed five minutes for
relief we could safely stretch the limits, if we needed to, as part of a
bio lesson.  He knelt between my spread legs, looking up with a mixture of
worry and eagerness, his pecker as hard as ever.

   "Stroke the insides of my thighs," I suggested, "it feels really good
when you do that, and pet my tummy."

   Oh my, did it feel good!

   As he petted me he was studying the folds of my already leaking twat, my
inner pink ruffles peeking shyly from between the outer labia.  "Closer to
my pussy," I urged.

   His fingers moved up my legs, closer to my crotch, and I sighed, leaning
my elbows back on the table behind me.  It felt so good, and to have the
whole class watching only made me feel even better.  I am such an
exhibitionist!

   "Notice how Miss Walker responds to this gentle stimulation," the
teacher, Mr.  Kaltenborn, pointed out.  "Her nipples are erect, and her
inner labia are swelling, their color deepening, sure signs of her
arousal."

   Oooooyeah, I thought.  "How do I smell?" I asked, looking down at
Dennis.

   Hesitantly, he sniffed, and wound up licking his lips.  "Yummy!" he
admitted, surprised.

   "Miss Walker's vagina is lubricating, and as it does it produces a scent
that Mr.  O'Brien's body is reacting to," Kaltenborn pointed out.

   Poor Dennis, he was going to be wanting relief by the time he was done
with me.

   "Lick me," I ordered.  "Let just the tip of your tongue touch my pussy."


   I shuddered from the delicate contact with my sensitive folds, resisting
the urge to grab him by the ears and stuff his head into my crotch. 
"Deeper," I moaned.  "Use your fingers to spread my outer lips."

   "Notice, class, how Miss Walker's vagina is responding, producing plenty
of juices.  The large opening is her vagina, of course.  Mr.  O'Brien would
find it quite ready for his penis, but should penetrate her only if Miss
Walker requests that."

   I managed to shake my head.  "No, not that." That, I'd sworn, was to be
saved for Greg.  "Lick deeper," I urged, my tummy muscles rippling in
reaction to the warm, velvety stroking of his tongue.  "Lick upwards.  See
where my inner lips come together?  Oh wow!"

   His tongue tip had brushed the little pearl of my clit, making my hips
jump.

   "You can put a finger in me," I offered, knowing his hands were clean.
"And suck on that little lump between the top of my inner lips, where they
form a sort of hood over it.  Oooohhyeah!  That's -- that's my clit.  Oh
God that feels good!  Lick it and suck it, lick it and suck it, and wiggle
your finger inside me, put another finer in, two more, if you want, deep,
as deep as you can, and move them in and out, and wiggle them in there and
oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!"

   I'd meant it to take longer, but I was just too horny to wait.  My toes
curling I pinched my own nipples, my thighs closing around Dennis's head as
he sucked and licked at my clitoris, his fingers stirring my juices to a
froth inside my clenching cunt.

   Finally I couldn't take anymore and released his head, pushing him away
gently as my body slowly relaxed.  "And that," I told him, "is how it is
done!"

   "Now I need relief again," he complained to me as the class applauded,
his cheeks slick with my juices.

   So I had him stand between my spread legs and, making sure he used the
hand that had explored my depths, let him jack himself off as I fingered
just the tip of is dick.  He went off like a rocket, his cock quickly
spurting thick, creamy globs of his rich, musky come on me all the way from
my throat, down to my tits, to my tummy, leaving it drooling over my naked
skin, until Mr.  Kaltenborn handed me a rag to wipe myself off, but not
before he'd captured some of it on a microscope slide.

   Darkening the room as Mike and I recovered, he slipped that slide under
the projection microscope, and a zillion wriggling tad-poley sort of things
came into focus on the screen -- sperm, lashing their little tails, eager
to find one of my eggs.  Not this time, little fellas, I said to myself. 
Maybe someday, but not this time, as Mr.  Kaltenborn described their long
journey, and what happened when the lucky one reached his goal.

   The rest of the class Mike and I remained up front while Mr.  Kaltenborn
covered the details of our anatomy, giving all who wanted a close look, of
which I wholeheartedly approved, of course.  By the time the lunch bell
rang I was at a low simmer again, and I suspected some of the guys were
wishing they could ask for relief.

   Me, I wished Greg were in my lunch period, rather than the later one. 
On the other hand, maybe it was best he wasn't, or I'd have had him right
there on one of the lunch tables.  Instead I was surrounded by my usual
lunch bunch, and found myself on the spot.  It seemed that the rumor mill
was in high gear, The Program being the grist.

   Apparently, somehow, the word had gotten around that The Program was,
depending on who you listened to, going to be summarily eliminated, or
drastically regimented, with stations at every hallway intersection where
Reasonable Requests would be performed under the watchful eye of monitors
who insured that the needed sanitary precautions were observed and that all
parties involved agreed as to reasonableness.  Lists of approved and
un-approved requests -- regularly updated to keep pace with the ingenuity
of students to find outlets for their unrelenting sex drive, curiosity and
ingenuity -- would be prominently posted and circulated among the students.


   That was a solution that had already crossed my mind, but I'd dismissed
it as impractical.  Still, it did have its good points....

   As to how the rumors had gotten started, well, don't look at me.  But if
Mrs.  Devers had been in contact with some upper-class students about being
on the committee, that would be all it would take.  They had to know what
she wanted them for, and all it would take was one of them to let something
slip.

   "So," Fran began, in a tone that put me on my guard, "word has it you've
been seen coming out of The Devil's office."

   "The Devil," of course, was the students' nickname for Mrs.  Devers,
particularly those who had somehow incurred her wrath.  It was not, you'll
note, a name I ever let pass my lips -- except maybe accidentally.  I
hastily stuffed my mouth with food so all I could do was lift my eyebrows
innocently while I chewed.

   "Doesn't she sort of oversee The Program?" Peggy asked.  "Didn't Mr. 
Worthington say she's his boss?"

   She looked so cute, sitting there primly, as naked as the day she was
born, except for a girlish pair of sandals.  She really did have a lovely
body, with beautiful little boobs, a B cup, like half-grapefruit, capped
with alert pink nipples.  Her delicate cunt ruffles were showing through
the soft brown bush nestled between her thighs.  She'd covered that
mouth-watering display with a paper napkin, for sanitary reasons only, of
course, but before she'd spread it I noticed she'd obviously received more
than a little attention during the morning, and thoroughly enjoyed it, was
my bet.

   I wanted to throttle her.

   I also wanted to crawl under the table and lick her until she screamed.

   Still chewing, I shrugged, wondering if I could possibly make this bite
last through the whole lunch period.  Unfortunately, I had twenty minutes
to go, and every eye at the table was focused on me.

   I nodded, still chewing, drooling down my chin.

   "And Worthlessness put you in The Program 'cause you mouthed off to
him," Fran reminded us all.  "I don't suppose you appealed his ruling to a
higher power, did you?"

   After taking a desperate gulp of milk to wash down the food, I was able
to truthfully deny that charge, frantically wiping my chin and chest of the
dribbles that had escaped my mouth.  "I didn't!  As you can see, I'm still
in the program, and anyway, I deserved it...."

   "Probably," Fran interrupted gleefully, "but anyway, putting you in The
Program would be like, like...."

   "Like throwing Br'er Rabbit in the Briar Patch," Inez filled in for her.


   As far as I was concerned that simile was getting a little shopworn. 
The resulting laughter didn't slow Fran down.

   "But what did go on behind that closed door, in that case?" she
persisted.

   It isn't really a lie if you feign ignorance with a look, is it?  I
mean, I didn't lie!  I just -- tried to look innocent, cursing my tendency
to blush like a fire engine.

   "I bet she said something in there that's stirred things up," Cindy said
with a toss of her blond curls.

   I couldn't think of anything to do but concentrate on my lunch.  I
didn't think I could even admit I was sworn to secrecy, 'cause that would
confirm that something had gone on, which, of course, it had.  I tried to
think what a politician would say in my position, and the best I could come
up with was "no comment," which was just as bad as admitting something had
gone on.

   "So, how did the morning go with you?" I asked Peggy lamely.  That was
enough to make her blush prettily, which was all the answer we needed.

   "I hear you and Dennis put on a show in bio," she countered, and that
was enough for me to regale them with a long rendition of my display.  With
Cindy to embellish my tale, since she'd been a witness.  Her description of
how Dennis had hosed me with his come had them panting, and it was enough
to use up the lunch period.

   But, as we left the lunchroom, I could feel Fran's eyes on me -- the
others', too.  They knew something was going on, and that I was right in
the middle of it, and they were upset I wasn't straight with them.  Not for
the first time I regretted my rep for stirring the pot.  I couldn't help
wondering how these things kept happening to me.  It's not like I invite
them, after all.

   The beginning of the afternoon went pretty much as the morning had. 
Greg and I rendezvoused under the stairs for a quick kiss and grope,
reminding each other of our future appointment with Kathy, yet to be
arranged, with its promise of future intimacies.

   I did turn down another pickle up my rear, this one from a horny junior
showing a depressing lack of originality.  He said it was a dill, and it
was a monster.  I pleaded tenderness back there from yesterday's
penetration.  It was just too big, and besides, I'd already been there and
done that.  I let him give me a good feel instead, which seemed to satisfy
him.  It only left me hanging, though, darn it.

   I was hurrying past Worthington's office to my last class when he nabbed
me.  "Miss Walker, why are you naked?"

   That jolted me.  "Uh, you put me in the program yesterday, remember?"

   "I only meant for the remainder of the day," he snapped.  "You'll still
get your full week in The Program later in the year!  So put some clothes
on."

   Oh brother, I thought, doing an Olympic class eye roll.  He didn't even
have the courtesy to drag me into the closet that was his office.  Well, if
he wanted to embarrass himself in front of the world that wasn't my
problem. "I'm sorry, that's not possible, sir."

   "Why not?"

   I sighed.  "I assumed I was in The Program for the week, sir.  To save
time and trouble, I came to school this way.  Sir."

   Of course I knew yesterday's clothes were probably somewhere around,
maybe even in his office, but I wasn't about to remind him of that.  Then I
remembered the first time he threatened me with the program he'd said, "for
the rest of this week and perhaps the next," and I tried to remind him of
that, but he'd have none of it.

   "I know what I said, Miss Walker!  I did not say the rest of this week,
and I most certainly did not say anything about next week!"

   He was getting rather red in the face, so I shut my mouth before the two
of us together sucked all the air out of the corridor.  While there were a
few gawkers, most of the passing throng was rubber-necking us like he was a
cop writing me a ticket for speeding or something.

   Nothing would have stopped him anyway.  He had up a full head of steam.
"This just won't do!  I'm afraid I'm going to have to send a strongly
worded letter home, making them aware of your delinquency!  And as of now,
you may consider yourself in The Program for the remainder of the week!  It
will not excuse you from your future scheduled participation."

   I was still digesting the fact he'd used the word "delinquency" as I
parsed the remainder of his tirade.  Oh.  Okay.  So I was destined to be
roaming the halls naked for the rest of the week.  I could live with that,
and another week later on.  No problem.  This Br'er Rabbit was happy in her
briar patch.  It was my comfort zone, after all.

   "Yessir." I hung my head meekly.

   Somehow I also resisted coming up with some smart remark -- or ripping
his tongue out, take your pick.  This was MY briar patch!  I was SO looking
forward to seeing him in The Program for a week, if I was so unlucky as to
have him named to the committee.

   That thick paperback in my backpack suddenly loomed large in my
immediate future.  I wondered if there was a version online that I could
search for "assholes, silencing of," rather than having to plow through all
700 plus pages.  Maybe I could just throw it at him, literally.  I vowed to
myself to cut him off at the knees, figuratively speaking, if he tried to
take over my committee.

   I mean, the committee.  It is NOT going to be my committee!  NO!  No,
no, NO!  Not my committee.  I only agreed to be on it.  Someone else could
run it.  Not me!

   "Now get along, or you'll be late to your next class!  No dawdling!" He
stamped his foot.

   He stamped his foot?  And "dawdling?" What century did this creep come
from?
   Fuming, I "got along," as he put it.