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 Dee Does HS 9 By peregrinf

   When I woke up in my own bed Monday morning I had a vague memory of
getting up in the middle of the night to pee.  I must have staggered back
here on instinct and flopped, until my clock radio woke me with that damn
car commercial again.

   Monday.

   School.

   Then reality hit me like a barrel of bricks and broken glass.  My
fingers clutched at the dog collar, trying to rip it off my neck.  I could
see my whole life crashing down, reduced to a pile of rubble with nothing
but sharp edges, the whole mess teetering on the edge of a black hole that
would suck my future into an abyss.

   Oh pooh, you say.

   You think I exaggerate?  Think again.  If I had done all those things my
memory was vomiting up my life was over, done, finished, kaput.

   Maybe it was all just a really, really, really bad dream.

   I must have screamed, because Mom was there in a moment, her weight
pressing down the mattress, rolling me toward her.  Untangling my fingers
from the collar she leaned over and gathered me into her comforting
embrace. "Bad dream?"

   I buried my face against her warmth, her sweet scent pushing back the
mountain of doom threatening to crush me.  I nodded, shuddering as I
struggled to regain my wits.

   I had a dismal image of me shuffling into school this morning, nude but
for wrist and ankle cuffs, chains, and that damning collar, to be greeted
with a chorus of barks and sardonic calls of "Fetch!" while all my friends
-- Greg, Kathy, Missy, Mike, my lunch-bunch, Mrs.  Devers, all the people I
depended on -- turned their backs on me.  Worthington stood over me,
gloating as I groveled at his feet.

   I was going to be the laughingstock of school.

   "Did we really do what I think we did yesterday?" I managed to mumble,
doing my best to escape the nightmare's clutches by burrowing further into
Mom's warm embrace.

   "That depends on what you think we did yesterday."

   "You peed on me!"

   "Actually, that was day before yesterday."

   "Eeeewwwwwww!  How could you DO that?" I pushed away from her.

   She shrugged.  "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time." She
gathered me back in.  "It was Elaine's idea, and you didn't seem to mind
it."

   Thinking back to that moment, to the whole mad weekend, I had to admit I
hadn't.  "The devil made me do it," I grumbled.  "Speaking of the devil, is
M....  Is Elaine still here?"

   "Right here," Elaine said from the doorway.  "Problems?"

   I pried myself loose from Mom to turn on her.  "Problems?  PROBLEMS?? 
You took me to the park!  Naked!!  I drank out of a little bowl on the
ground like a -- a -- like a dog, with everyone watching!  You had me
chasing a Frisbee like a demented Dalmatian!"

   "More like a golden retriever, I'd say." Mom's loving fingers teased my
tousled blond locks.

   "You weren't naked.  You were wearing cuffs and chains," Elaine reminded
me calmly.

   "And the Finches were there, and John, and who knows who else from
school?" I wailed, collapsing backwards on my bed I pulled the pillow over
my face.  "I am doomed!  Doomed, I tell you, doomed, Doomed, DOOMED!  Throw
dirt over me and put up a headstone -- one that dogs will pee on would be
your first choice, I suppose."

   "She's right," Mom admitted to Elaine.  "Word will get around school. 
There was quite a crowd at the park.  That will cause problems."

   "Well, it was a beautiful Sunday!" Elaine pointed out.  "Probably half
the town was there."

   I pulled the pillow off my face.  "You're not helping!  How could you
have done that to me?"

   Pillow back over face.

   "You could have used your safe word anytime," Elaine reminded me.

   Pillow off face -- it is hard to fulminate effectively through a pillow.
It kinda takes the edge off.  "Oh sure!  And Mom would have lost her bet
and she'd be your sex-slave for the next week!"

   Return pillow to face.  At least they'd dropped the 'punishment in lieu
of' clause if I had bailed, not that it mattered now.

   "Oh, pooh," Mom snorted.  "You think I would have made that bet if I
didn't think you could win it?  And look who's the slave now?  She is, and
I'm really looking forward to it.

   "Does it run from, say, next Saturday morning through to the Saturday
after, Elaine?  We'll have to schedule it when we both have the weekend
free again."

   Mom turned back to me.  "And, if you hadn't stuck it out, Dee, well,
there certainly are worse fates than me being Elaine's sex-slave.  But the
whole scene was a little over-the-top, I must admit.  Don't you agree,
Elaine?" Mom concluded.

   "It was.  But it made for a fun weekend," Mom's lover pointed out.  "A
nice break from the routine.  Distracting.  Cheaper than a cruise to the
Bahamas.

   "I am sorry we got a bit carried away," Elaine confessed.  "I'm sorry,
Dee, I really am.  I didn't mean to put you or your mom in a bad position.
I guess I just wasn't thinking.  Not having children it just never occurred
to me it would cause problems."

   "Fat lot of good that does me now!" I retorted, taking the pillow off,
resisting the urge to hit her with it.  I had to admit they were right.  I
could have called a halt to the whole thing.  I should have.  As for why I
didn't, well, I had to admit I'd enjoyed myself immensely, even that mad
romp in the park.  Especially that, to be brutally truthful.  It really
appealed to my exhibitionist streak, the air on my skin, on parts of me
that were -- ahem -- spread to the breezes as I extended my stride to reach
the Frisbee.  I also had to admit that the whole weekend was certainly a
break from the routine, and that Mom had really, really needed it.  Which
is, I suppose, one of the reasons I went along with it.

   See, Mom had been really stressed.  Last week hadn't been great for her,
what with a couple of clients who couldn't make up their minds, and a major
deal falling through.  And then, normally, weekends were anything but
relaxing for Mom.  Saturdays were usually taken up by an open-house -- very
stressful -- or showing potential buyers around -- just as bad -- while
Sunday was housework.

   But not this time.  This time Mom had had Saturday totally open and, for
a change, Mom's squeeze, known to the community as Dr.  Elaine Smathers,
Board Certified OB/GYN, -- and privately, known to us, when the mood
arises, as MD, Mom's Dom -- hadn't been on call all weekend, which was a
real rarity!

   She and Mom had planned to spend the whole weekend doing nothing.

   Well, not exactly nothing.  They'd planned on exploring, in depth, their
Dom/Sub relationship, if you get my drift, a relationship which relieves
Mom of all responsibilities and concerns so she can really relax.  A little
bondage and a light flogging and all her cares melt away.

   Anyway, when I'd gotten home Friday afternoon the dog collar had been on
the table for Mom to wear over the weekend.  Unfortunately, Worthington's
letters superseded it.  At the end of their hearing regarding my
disrespectful deportment, the verdict had come down that this was my chance
to spoil both of them and learn some humility at the same time.  I'd be at
the bottom of the food chain, so to speak.  Elaine would rule supreme,
while Mom carried out Mistress's orders vis-à-vis me.

   The verdict rendered, I'd picked up the symbolic collar and put it on
myself, and it just sort of mushroomed from there to a full set of cuffs
and chains, total degradation and humiliation, ending with a backyard
erotic flogging that had sent me over the moon.  At that point my cares had
melted away right along with Mom's.

   All with my total cooperation, which was utterly stupid of me I now
knew.

   Oh was it fun!

   But now, I guess the expression is, "I had to pay the piper."

   I could just see it.  The assignment for Mr.  Turner's creative writing
course would be "How I Spent My Weekend." Well, let's see.  To keep it from
being X rated I guess I could say I'd cleaned and scrubbed the house, done
the laundry, fixed their meals, and waited on them, obeying their every
command.  I'd best just leave it at that.

   And I had to admit it had all been an incredible turn-on.  They really
hadn't been mean, just deeply into the roles of that role playing game, and
I had been, too.  I'd had submission fantasies in the past.  Who hasn't? 
When I was a little kid I'd gotten a tingle from the idea of being tied to
a stake -- naked, of course -- at the mercy of wild Indians.  If you've
been paying attention you know that not long ago I'd managed to tie myself
spread-eagle on Mom's bed, naked, and when they'd come home it had turned
into a rather stimulating bondage session.  They'd played me like a fiddle.


   With the collar around my neck and the cuffs and chains on wrists and
ankles, it was a perfect opportunity for me to indulge in my fantasy in the
safest conceivable setting, or so I thought.  Who better to introduce me to
this kink than my loving mom following the orders of her loving Dom?  I had
to admit that I'd given myself over to the fantasy as willingly as they had
taken it on themselves.

   But I hadn't expected them to expose me to the whole world.  Swept along
by our shared fantasies I'd done nothing to call a halt to the proceedings,
and now I was faced with the reality that I'd be nothing more than a
steaming pile of dog-poop in the halls of good old Central High, the object
of ridicule.

   No wonder I'd screamed.  Maybe I could go off and join the French
Foreign Legion or something.

   Mom was looking worried and regretful.  I knew that look.  She was
afraid I'd never speak to her again -- I'd had occasional temper tantrums
in the past and made that threat -- and it broke my heart.

   "I love you," I assured her, reaching for her.

   "And I love you," she assured me, giving me another hug.  "I'm sorry, I
guess we did go a little too far."

   "Ya think?" I asked bitterly.

   She looked apologetic, as did Elaine.  Which did me little good, of
course.

   "But what am I going to do?" I wailed.  "I'm going to be the butt of
every dog joke for the rest of my high school career.  When someone asks
about me as a date the answer will be that I'm 'a real bitch' or, if I'm
lucky, just 'she's a dog,' or worse, 'a dog's lunch.' The only club that'll
accept me will be the kennel club.  I'll probably be known as 'Fido' from
now on!"

   Pushing off from the doorway where she'd been leaning, Elaine came in
and stood next to Mom, a comforting hand on her shoulder.  Her reassuring
words to me were, "You'll do what you always do when you're faced with a
problem, Dee.  You'll hold your head high and march to the beat of whatever
mad drummer it is that makes you you.  I've never yet known you to back
down from a challenge."

   I had to admit she was right.  Besides, what choice did I have?  I
heaved a sigh.  Somewhere I read that people like Medal of Honor winners
weren't brave.  They were only people who did what they had to do.  I
certainly didn't feel I belonged in that community of heroes, but all I
could do was what I had to do, which was face the music of my own actions.

   On the other hand, maybe I'd get booted off of the committee!  As Mom
says, it's an ill wind that blows nobody good.

   The weekend in chains hadn't swept away all my cares.  At times it had
given me time to mull over that whole tangle.  It's amazing how mindless
most housework is.  As I'd literally slaved away, in a real "well doh!"
moment, I'd come to the conclusion that because of my insolence Worthington
was going be harder to deal with than ever.  If the committee was still a
"go," and I was still on it, a confrontation with him seemed inevitable.

   I'd concluded I'd better be sure of my facts, and have lots of evidence,
as well as solid support from Mrs.  Devers and the committee.  During one
interlude I'd even immersed myself in the "Student Guide to the Naked in
School Program," prepared by something called the "Federal Office of Social
Awareness" -- lah-dee-dah!  I'd paid particular attention to the section on
"Reasonable Requests," taking note specifically of point number 2, and I
quote:
"The Program Participant is the sole judge of the reasonability of any
request that involves physical contact.  Any attempts to coerce the
participant into physical contact beyond what the participant finds
reasonable will result in disciplinary action by the school administration

in accordance with the judgment of local Program officials."

   All Peggy had asked was that the Tweedles wash their hands before
touching her.  She'd had every right to refuse the request outright, and
she hadn't, just like I'd told Worthington.

   And while I'm on it, there's point 5, as it applies to me:

   "No student shall ever be required to insert a foreign object into any
bodily orifice as a part of a Reasonable Request or Classroom Activity."

   I wish I'd known that before I let that guy shove a pickle up my butt.
Not that I'd have refused, I suppose, seeing as how I enjoy anal
penetration.  But still, I should have known I had a choice.  I should have
read that damn pamphlet sooner.  I still didn't know if it had been a dill
pickle or a sweet pickle.  All I knew was that it had been, shall we say,
fulfilling?  I wonder -- if it was dill, did it make my -- uh -- pucker --
pucker even more?  It didn't feel like it.

   But getting back to the pamphlet, what about Worthington?  Had he ever
read it himself?  I mean, supposedly he had been trained for his position
as NiS coordinator by this Federal Office of Social Awareness thing.  Maybe
he slept through that part of the course.  Or, maybe he had his own agenda.


   The question was, what could be done about it and how to do it?  Would
anyone listen to me after I'd made such a mutt of myself?

   As I lay in bed Mom was patting me, and I put my hand on hers, thinking.
Regardless of my reception at school, my next encounter with Worthington
was likely to be this morning when he found himself in The Program.  I was
willing to bet he'd suspect I had something to do with him walking the
halls naked for the next week.

   Then I thought again.  IF he walked the halls.  I didn't recall ever
seeing him away from his office.  What the hell did he do in there all day?
He didn't pick program participants, that was apparently done by Vice
Principal Devers and others farther up the food chain.  But he was supposed
to be overseeing us.  You'd think he'd be out keeping an eye on how the
participants were doing.  The only thing I could think was that he sat
there in his converted closet like some kind of a troll, waiting for
someone to report an alleged Program violation, when he'd leap into action.


   Yeah, right.  Like he'd done with Peggy.  "Worthless"ton seemed
particularly appropriate if that was the case.

   Yeah, I'd promised not to call him that, but I could still think it.

   I worried, too, about Missy, thinking I should have discussed her
history with Mrs.  Devers instead of assuming the Vice Principal had known
about it.  Maybe if I got to school in time to be there when she came out
nude....

   All this thinking made me antsy and I was ready to get up and face the
day -- well, as ready as I'd ever be.  "Time to get up, I guess."

   "Usual breakfast?" Mom asked as she got off my bed.

   "Extra French toast?" I asked hopefully, swinging my feet over the side.
Nothing short of total Armageddon could affect my appetite.

   "I'd say you've earned it," she agreed kindly.  "Now get a wiggle on."

   I wiggled my naked butt to the bathroom, meditating on my uniform for
the day.  A suit of armor might be appropriate, but last week I'd sent it
out to be oiled and have the dents taken out.  While there was no rule said
I couldn't go to school naked, after my weekend that didn't appeal to me.
The dog collar definitely had to go.  I left that decorating the back of
the toilet before stepping under the shower.  I didn't want any hint of
what I'd been wearing in the park yesterday to taint my image more than it
already was tainted.

   Back in my room, I stood in front of my closet.  What to wear, what to
wear?  I contemplated my reflection in the mirror.

   Amazingly, the activities hadn't left a mark on me.

   I didn't want to stand out -- which was hard enough already, with me
towering over most of the school -- but did want to look confident and
mature.

   Yeah, right.  I've got my fourteenth birthday coming up, I spent Sunday
in the park playing doggie style fetch with a Frisbee, and I'm s'posed to
look mature.

   I went with modest shorts, a nice permanent-press short-sleeved blouse
-- instead of my usual tee -- and a full set of underwear including a bra I
didn't really need.  It was uncomfortable, but I deserved to suffer.

   I even tried to tame my hair.

   "You look very nice this morning," Elaine observed when I appeared in
the kitchen door, the air rich with the mouth-watering scent of French
toast, hot maple syrup and broiling bacon.  Mom had gone all out for me, as
usual.

   "Thanks." I didn't want to explain why I'd upgraded from tomboy to
junior-exec, high school division, but I suppose they knew.  They're smart
that way.  I did tuck my napkin under my chin to protect my nicest blouse
from syrup drips, which caused Mom to cock an eyebrow.

   I felt myself blushing.  I was usually pretty casual about how I dressed
for school, sometimes not even bothering at all, I admit.  This was the
new, more mature Dee, ready to take on the forces of incompetence and
foolishness, to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable, all
while enduring the slings and arrows of self-inflicted outrageous fortune.

   On the way to school The Stick kept reminding me that I was tall, I was
graceful, I was strong.

   Yeah, right.  I was also stupid enough to disgrace myself in the park.

   Was I scared?  You bet I was!  I broke out into a cold sweat as I neared
the school, and the first assault on my dignity came as I headed up the
walk.

   It couldn't have come from a better source if I'd picked it myself.  It
gave me the perfect chance to show my teeth.

   "Hey Dee!  Fetch!" Tweedle Dumb called, sailing a Frisbee in my
direction with malice aforethought.  Standing beside him, his buddy Dumber
cackled as he fondled his own flying plate.

   Fortunately it was Tweedle Dumb, rather than one of our more intelligent
or athletically talented students.  Otherwise I might have taken it in the
teeth or my retaliation would have only further damaged my reputation.  He
was about as low on the totem pole as you could get.  In addition to his
identity, over which he had no control, he'd made a few mistakes.  His
delivery was soft.  His aim was off.  He misjudged my reflexes and my
reach, and he didn't know I'd been taught how to throw a Frisbee by my
brother.

   And he was well within range.  Without really thinking I snagged the
thing out of the air and whipped it back at him twice as hard.

   I wanted to go for his neck, but rather than risk a manslaughter charge
I'd aimed for his navel.  The only trouble was my aim was a little teensy
weensy bit off and, well, it came in a little low -- about six inches low,
I'd estimate, so it -- ahh -- split the uprights, you might say.

   With a noise like all the air going out the neck of a balloon he folded
like an old lawn chair.

   Tsk!

   The laughter of the crowd, mixed with few sympathetic groans, given my
target, was most rewarding.

   Dumber tried to abort his own Frisbee launch, which resulted in his
missile crashing ignominiously to earth about four feet from his tatty
sneaks as he went to the aid of his crumpled friend.

   Wearing my most formal athletic shoes, I proceeded up the steps to a
smattering of applause, letting the other woofs and sniping comments roll
off me.  Retreating behind my mantra I reminded myself I am tall, I am
slender, I am sexy, I am sometimes smart.  If I let them know they were
getting to me it would only encourage them.

   It was going to be a long week -- or longer, given the notoriety of my
performance.  Well, I'd survived being "The Stick" in middle school, I'd
survive this.

   Maybe I would have received more flack than I did, except that, as we
already know, word had gotten out that Something was Up with The Program.
As a result, the usual Monday morning welcome gathering for the week's
participants had been super-sized, and there was a lot of speculation
rumbling through the mob.

   My lunch bunch had special strong hugs for me this morning, and Fran
greeted me with a "well, hello, stranger" in her usual brassy fashion. 
"How was the park?"

   I gave her an eye roll.  I shoulda known they'd stand with me through
thick or thin, but not without a little poke.

   "Where's Peggy?" I asked, afraid Worthington might have reneged and
added her to this week's victims.  Not that she hadn't enjoyed her week in
The Program, but I knew there had also been a lot of stress.  She was
justifiably afraid of Worthington, and I hadn't been there to guard her
back all the time.

   "Not here," Inez answered.  "She wasn't on the bus this morning."

   "There goes her perfect attendance record," Cindy observed.

   I hoped nothing serious had happened.  Peggy prided herself on her
attendance, not even yielding to her monthly cramps, sweating them out
through thick, thin and gym.

   Then everything was forgotten as the office door opened and Mr. 
Worthington emerged in the altogether, an unimpressive little man in every
way, his lips pursed primly as the crowd greeted him with more than the
usual number and volume of hoots and whistles.  He was so engrossed in
trying to minimize his exposure he barely spared me a hostile glance.  He
scurried away, all pink and hunched over, looking like a hermit crab out of
his shell, his pale butt twitching nervously.

   "You knew about this and that's why you've been avoiding us?" Fran
asked. "What's the big deal?  We've had teachers getting naked.  There must
be more going on than this!"

   I just sort of shrugged, distracted as Missy and Mike emerged nude, hand
in hand.  I descended on them and hugged them both.  Mike had a
testosterone laced "piece of cake" swagger along with his hard on, but
Missy was more apprehensive.  Her reputation as a flirt and cock-tease had
preceded her to high school, in spite of her best efforts to be Miss Prim
and Proper after her flirtation with slut-dom.  I bet she was bracing
herself for some pretty extreme requests, and drew her aside.

   "You don't have to do more than pose," I pointed out.  "You don't even
have to let them touch you if you don't want."

   She looked surprised.  "What?  Really?"

   I took the copy of the program pamphlet out of her numbed fingers and
showed her the section on reasonable requests, figuring that, like most
participants, she hadn't had a chance to read the darn thing.  Her eyes got
big as she read it, and shared it with Mike, who was just as ignorant.

   Sure, they gave the pamphlets out to us at the before-school-opening
orientation, along with piles of other crap, and almost no one ever read
it. Even I hadn't until yesterday.  So they had to hand it out again on the
morning of the participants' entry into The Program.  Since the whole
"chosen" list was supposed to be a surprise they couldn't give 'em out,
say, the Friday before, that'd be a total tip-off.  Of course, when they
were called down to the office to strip most of the chosen ones were in
shock and in no condition to read anything more complicated than an eye
chart.

   By now the other participants had emerged and there was the usual scrum
which shuffled me and Missy and Mike off to the side.  One of the Queen
Bees had been chosen and was flaunting her 36C-24-36 (measurements she
posted on her social network page.  I suggest they be taken with a grain of
salt.  She looks more like a "B" to me) for the crowd to salivate over,
even though her nude state made it obvious she was not a natural blonde.  I
made a mental bet she'd go from "bikini-wax" to "Brazilian" before the week
was out.

   The drones were swarming her, of course, while the chosen upper-class
jocks were drawing the girls like flies to honey.

   Missy looked good!  She'd grown some, shedding some of her baby fat.  I
wanted to hug her more than ever, but knew that phase of her life was over.


   "How's your mom taking this?" I asked her.

   "She won't know unless I tell her," Missy admitted dolefully.

   I gave her the laser eye.  "Tell her!"

   She looked doubtful.  "But...."

   "She's sure to hear from somebody else," I pointed out.  "Remember what
happened the last time you tried to keep a secret.  Tell her, or she'll
never trust you again."

   Missy nodded unhappily.

   "Good girl!  And, if you have any problems, come to me," I ordered.

   She looked doubtful, so I took her hands.  "You know I'll always be here
for you.  I promise.  So, promise, if there's a problem you'll come to me.
I'll make it a cross my heart promise.  Do you cross your heart promise?"

   I was invoking our old childhood vow, one we never, ever broke, no
matter what.  It was a promise I should have invoked last year, before she
got herself in over her head, but I hadn't, afraid it would have driven an
insurmountable wedge between us.

   She nodded.

   "Say it," I insisted.  "And do it."

   "I cross my heart promise," she agreed, bashfully grateful, shyly
tracing an X with her finger between her lovely naked breasts as I did the
same on my shirt and said the same words.

   "You're beautiful," I told her sincerely.

   Good enough to eat, I thought wistfully, turning her loose.  She has
such a lovely ass.

   She and Mike hadn't gone ten feet from me before someone approached them
and had them both posing, the usual feet apart, hands behind the head
schlock that thrust Missy's boobs out, her nipples stiff in the open air.
Mike's cock was at full staff, and he didn't hesitate to let a cute little
frosh girl from West Middle School fondle it.  My bet was he'd ask for
relief the first chance he got.

   Would he pick me if I volunteered?  I'd be disappointed if he didn't.  I
decided I'd sit on my hands rather than risk rejection.

   The contrast of the girl's dark fingers on Mike's pale shaft was
fascinating and I wondered if Kathy had ever thought of incorporating that
contrast in her art.  Which reminded me, Greg and I had a date after school
to pose for her, if they were still willing to associate with me.

   The first bell rang and the crowd disbursed, off to home rooms, and the
routine resumed.  I was hoping I'd hear something from Mrs.  Devers about
the committee, but all I could do was wait for The Powers That Be to get
their gaze out of their navels or wherever.

   As I went through the morning there were occasional barks and "fetches"
sent my way, which I ignored.  I could only hope it wouldn't get worse.  In
middle school these scenes sometimes turned into a feeding frenzy, ripping
and tearing at some hapless victim until her soul bled out on the floor. 
The high school had tightened up the "no bullying" policy with the
inception of The Program, but there were still cracks.  They couldn't
protect anyone 24/7, and I was willing to bet movies of my rover imitation
were on the web.  At least if they were already public there was no way
anyone -- why did I think of Worthington?  -- could blackmail me with them.


   Maybe I was flattering myself, but I wouldn't be surprised if I went
viral.  Maybe I already had!

   I was half-way through lunch when I was handed a note from Mrs.  Devers.
It was ominously succinct -- "After school."

   Shit.

   I blanched.

   "Bad news?" Fran asked, as alert to my nuances as ever.

   "Devers," I admitted.

   Cue the chorus, "UH OH!"

   That didn't deter me from issuing a BOLO (Be-On-the-Look-Out) through my
lunch bunch.  I could depend on them to put the word out that I wanted
reports of any Worthington sightings.  If his fat little pink butt put in
an appearance in the halls, I wanted to hear about it.

   I also sent word to Kathy I might be late for our session.

   But Devers's message had me sweating all afternoon, and I was quaking in
my trainers when I knocked timidly on her door.  Her eyes were unreadable
as she invited me in and told me to close the door.

   "Why?" she asked soberly when I'd taken the chair opposite her desk.

   I knew exactly what she was referring to.  I sat looking down at my
hands, my fingers twisting like John's when he was at his worst.  What
could I do but tell her of my mom's unconventional relationship with Dr. 
Smathers, and how I'd gotten swept along in the moment.

   When I was done she rocked back in her chair, shaking her head slowly
from side-to-side.  "Well, I at least assume you didn't eat your own
homework when you got home," she concluded wryly.

   "No'm," I assured her.

   She snorted, laughed, her eyes warming, and I felt myself relaxing,
until we laughed together.

   "You did look like you were having a wonderful time," she allowed when
we'd stopped laughing.

   "You were there?"

   "With Gail, Jimmy, and my husband.  We were all enjoying a quiet,
dignified stroll home after church.  You ran right through us, chains
jingling madly, when you went after that last throw.  You practically
leap-frogged Jimmy.  I thought sure you were going to wind up in the bushes
but you dodged 'em like you had radar.  I guess you were so concentrated on
the Frisbee you didn't notice us.  My husband enjoyed the show.  Jimmy was
thunderstruck -- he's only ten and not too experienced with naked girls
yet. My husband and I had a very interesting talk with him last night,
thanks to your display.  I thought Gail was going to sink into the ground
she was so embarrassed."

   I hung my head, blushing like a stop-light.  "What'd you think?" I asked
bravely.

   "I thought you showed very good form," she answered with a smile.  "Dee,
if I didn't know you as well as I do I'd be seriously worried about your
mental stability.  As it is, you're one of the most sane people I know."

   "You don't think I need to see a counselor?"

   "Heaven forbid!  He'd probably only screw you up.  If you feel you need
to talk to anyone, talk to Ms.  Andrews.  She knows you.

   "You do get yourself into some fascinating situations," she went on. 
"Oh, and this morning I got a call from Child Protective Services ...."

   "OHmygod!  We never thought of them!"

   "Obviously.  I apologized for not warning them in advance about your
experiment in Outreach from the Naked in School Program."

   "You lied?"

   "Wasn't that what you were doing?" she asked in wide-eyed innocence.

   "Oh, yeah, I guess that's what I did, isn't it." I catch on fast. 
"Thank you."

   "You're welcome.  How'd your mom let you get dragged into her scene?"

   I shrugged.  "It was s'posed to be just her and Elaine doing their
sub/dom thing over the weekend, while I made myself scarce.  It helps Mom
relax.  But when they read Mr.  Worthington's letters they decided I needed
a lesson about respecting my elders, even if I do think he's an idiot.  I
agreed to be their slave for the weekend.  We got kinda carried away, I
guess."

   "I'd say!  But, there's another good lesson to learn.  Don't get carried
away!  Keep stuff like that indoors, at home.  As for respecting your
elders, I hope it worked.

   "But, as to things around here, that little show is only going to make
your job on the committee harder."

   "You mean you're not kicking me off it?" I asked.  I was really kinda
torn about the whole thing.  On the one hand I'd be relieved if I weren't
involved, but on the other I was itching to Do Something to fix The Program
while I was fixing Worthington's wagon.  I'd hate to be left out when it
was kinda my idea from the start.

   She laughed again.  "Oh no.  For one thing, it's gone too far for us to
replace you at this point -- you've got the NIS experience we need, and it
was your idea in the first place.  And you're not getting out of it that
easily.  Look on it as another character building exercise."

   "Yes'm," I agreed humbly.

   "How's Mr.  Worthington handling his new assignment?"

   "I don't know," I admitted.  "Nobody's seen him all day."

   "All day?  Nobody?  Are you sure?"

   "I -- uhm -- have my sources," I admitted.  My BOLO didn't leave many
holes for him to slip through.  "Unless he had lunch in the teachers'
lounge he even missed lunch, or ate in his office.  He woulda kinda stood
out," I pointed out.

   "Dee, you are really something else again," she mused.  "I believe you."

   I was afraid to ask her if that was a good thing or bad one.  "So,
what's next?"

   "TPTB are finalizing the committee membership.  We'll have an informal
gathering later in the week so you can get to know each other.  The first
organizational meeting will be next Monday, after school, assuming everyone
can make it."

   This week.  That meant Worthington would have to be at the
meet-and-greet naked, assuming he was invited.  I wondered how that would
go over with him, or if he'd somehow manage to duck it.

   After a little more discussion I was sent off to another potentially
stressful meeting.  I'd hardly seen Greg all day other than to wave at him
and I was afraid he was avoiding me, and I had no idea what Kathy's
reaction would be to my display.

   Realizing that both my relationship with Greg and my modeling career
might well come to an abrupt end I tip-toed down the hall to the art
studio, and peeked in the doorway.

   Greg and Kathy had their heads together, and they didn't look at all
happy.