Alison is relentless

On Wednesday Alison is back to her 'Catholic' school uniform instead of the tight designer jeans. I'm not sure it's any better. Not for the first time I wonder about the contradictions inherent in the Church's messaging about sex. At the same time that these young women are being taught that their bodies are sacred and must be saved as a precious gift for their future husbands and the sanctity of marriage, their teenaged bodies are covered in white blouses, pleated skirts that end high on their legs and knee-high socks. Is this supposed to make them look less desirable? As she sits across from me toying with her hair, Alison smirks at me knowingly.

“See, Mr. Patterson?” She meets my gaze boldly, almost daring me to wipe that cocky grin off her face. “I'm in uniform, so you don't need to spank me this morning.” The memory of how good that tight ass of hers had felt when I smacked it yesterday made my hand tingle all over again, but I don't have a chance to rub it because my sexy tenant is right back to her teasing.

“At least I'm mostly in uniform,” she stands by the side of the table and pretends to count on her fingers. I've got my blouse and tie on ... and my skirt of course, and my socks and shoes ..." her hands slide up her blouse and cup her breasts just firmly enough to show the outline of a bra "yup, I got my bra on too, even though I hate the way the underwire digs into my soft little titties ... I don't even know why I have to wear one, it's not like my boobs sag or sway."

“Watch your language, Miss.” I growl only partly in character.

“Sorry, Mr. Patterson.” She lowers her eyes mischievously, “I'm wearing a brasier to keep my firm teenaged breasts from jiggling in my blouse when I play hop-scotch with the other girls.” Once again, she's twirling her hair between her fingers as she goes on. “The boys all like to watch us when we jump around; do you like watching too, Mr. Patterson?” She doesn't even give me a chance to answer as she pretends to do a jumping jack, “I've seen you staring out your window when we're on our break, Sir.” I'm halfway between telling Alison to shut up, and praising her for her acting; shit, there's still a couple more days before the weekend. “It's harder to play on windy days because sometimes our skirts just fly up and -” She pulls uncomfortably at the hem of her shirt, “Oh dear, I hope I remembered to wear the right uniform panties. What if a teacher checks under my skirt and finds I have some sexy red silkies instead of the plain white cotton briefs we're supposed to wear?”

“You could go upstairs and change.” I suggested with a straight face, although just barely. Alison glances at her wrist even though she's not wearing a watch and bends down in a rush to grab her bookbag.

“Oh dear, I'm late again. I'll just have to hope I don't get caught!” It is hard for me to say for sure if she did it on purpose, but as she skipped out the door, I'm pretty sure I caught a flash of red high on her thigh where the smooth white skin of her thigh meets the grey checkered plaid of the flapping skirt.

That girl is just asking for a spanking. Maybe I should do a 'uniform check' on my naughty tenant when she gets back from school today... there's also that big test coming up tomorrow, I know she's not ready for that.