Detention

Sandry spent at least an hour after that in Mrs Wilson's office, explaining how she had come to be in her state of undress. The office was chilly, and raised goosebumps across every inch of Sandry's skin, but her face still burned red with embarrassment, so hot she thought it would never go down.

Then she had waited while Mrs Wilson tried to contact her parents and have them bring her clothes. Sandry was keen on the idea of being dressed again, but not so much on the idea of more people knowing what had happened to her.

Maybe it was frustration at not getting an answer on the phone, maybe it was just an oversight, but somehow Mrs Wilson gave up on the idea of getting Sandry clothes.

Instead, while the rest of the school got a lunch break, Sandry was marched into a classroom for detention.

It was rare for someone her age to be given detention; usually it was a punishment for the younger students, so most of the others in the room were considerably younger than Sandry. It was also mostly boys, who were clearly enjoying the sight of Sandry walking in, dressed in nothing but shoes, socks and panties, arms crossed over her ample bare chest.

She hurried to the back of the room, and sat down. A bored-looking teacher was reading at the front of the room, a list of rules written on the whiteboard behind him.

"Damn!" a red-headed girl leaned over to whisper to Sandry, "You been streaking?"

"Not intentionally." Sandry replied. "I can't believe I got detention! I've never had detention!"

"Nah, I thought I'd never seen you in here." the girl replied, "Me, I've been hete often enough to have a loyalty card. The name's Eve."

"Sandry. I won't shake hands, if that's okay."

"Sure, tits like that you need both of them. I'm not sticking around anyway, I never stay the whole time, I've got a way out. Want to come with?"