Just getting started with Andra

You have a plan for Andra, but you aren't in a hurry. This is to be savored like a gourmet full course dinner and you were at the hors d'oeuvres. Also, like any fine dining experience, a crucial element was good company.

You raise your head and make broad gestures to your classmates at the cafeteria. "Does anyone have suggestions for what our classmate, Andra, should have as her new uniform? Ladies first," you say loudly. You see or maybe imagine Andra starting to sweat. You haven't been her only victim and now the knives were out.

"Underwear." "In flannel." "As she is." "Naked." "Her clothes inside out." "A dunce cap." "Crocs!"

There are a couple other underwhelming suggestions. You smile knowingly at several of your female peers. Some are genuine in their magnanimity; many may still be siding with Andra, since she is a big shot. The ones that interested you are the shrewd young women who knew that the new Female Uniform Inspector is establishing an unspoken precedent; if you are lenient on your nemesis from the start, then how could you be cruel to them later?

You raise your hand like a viceroy addressing his subjects and the seniors are quiet. "And what do the guys think?" you ask. The silence continued for a spell, but when it broke, a torrent came in.

"Naked." "Clear plastic bags, including for her head." "Naked." "Whipped cream. You know, like Varsity Blues." "Wet toilet paper." "A sumo suit." "Naked." "Tar and feathers." "Crucify her! Crucify her!" "Underwear." "Clown outfit with the bra and panties area cut out.""As she is." "Naked." "Covered in eggs and tomatoes." "Shame! Shame!" "Poison ivy underwear." "Adult diapers." "Naked except for Crocs!"

You raise your hand again, and again your peers fell silent. "I think the guys won that round. But don't worry, ladies, you can show me what you've got later," you remark as you finish jotting some of the ideas you like for the future.

You walk closer to Andra. Your gaze falls her perspiration-covered cleavage again. "You're sweating a lot, sweetcheeks," you announce while a wagging finger. "That low-cut top probably isn't overheating you, but take it off anyway."

Andra face becomes a ripe tomato and she moves her narrowed eyes away. Still, the blonde obeys and removes the top, revealing a matching bra.

"Better?" you ask. Andra has hunched and squatted down some, as if she would have fewer young adult eyes on her near nude flesh. Before she or you say anything else, Brian, Andra's salty ex-boyfriend , runs up and pushes her on her shapely butt.

Andra falls on her hands and knees as you look coldly at Brian. You didn't need him butting in with his petty ****. Brian, noting your disapproval and hearing the mutterings of Andra's supporters, makes a hasty exit. You look at Andra as she remains in the provocative position out of confusion.

"That was... bad form," you tell her, though your eyes admire her good form. You walk in front of her feeling ambivalent. "Would you like me to help you up?" You extend your hand in front of her face.

Her blue eyes pierce into your green ones. "You thought I was mean to you before, you aspie asshole?!" Andra began, "You'll be fucking weeping and wetting yourself everyday of your pathetic life before I'm finished!" she hisses. She punctuates it by spitting on your cheek.

You take a deep breath. You use her top to wipe the saliva away. "Andie, Andie. You and your mouth," you reprimand. Time for the next course.