Prentiss meets the headmistress

Clapping both hands over her bare backside, Prentiss awkwardly made her way through the crowds of schoolgirls.

"Helen?" she called out, "Helen Martinelli!" the identical uniforms made her search harder, but she kept an eye out for Helen's silky dark hair, and saw no sign of her. The more girls she made her way past, the more gathered behind her laughing at and taking photos of her exposed rear.

"What is going on here?" Prentiss suddenly found herself face to face with a severe-looking woman in her thirties, dressed in a tight tweed suit and with her hair in a tight bun.

"Oh, good afternoon, I'm Agent Prentiss with the FBI, I came to meet one of your pupils who we think might be in danger."

"Oh yes, Miss Martinelli. Where is she?"

"She... I don't know." Prentiss admitted.

"And why are those girls pointing at your behind?"

"I ripped my pants."

"I see. Perhaps you'd better come with me. I'm Miss Thatch, headmistress of this school."

Relieved to be indoors and away from the giggling crowd, Prentiss followed the headmistress along a corridor, up a set of stairs and into a well-appointed office.

"Have a seat, I'll be right back." Miss Thatch said, gesturing to a chair and leaving the room again.

Prentiss lowered herself into the chair, braced for the cold of the leather against her bare buttocks, but when she also felt the wooden back against her shoulder blades she knew something was wrong.

Getting a feeling of dread she had felt too many times already on this case, Prentiss looked down at her body to see what she was afraid she already knew to be true.

She was naked again.