No. Which means...

The second thing that Anna was aware of was the feather-light brush of her panties as they fell down to her ankles. She must have pressed her knees too closely together while sitting, and with no tension they'd fallen all the way down her legs.

But the first thing she was aware of was that the feeling was still there.

Something was still agitating her backside. Something still pricked it; a poking, itchy sort of feeling. She reached beneath herself and ran her hand beneath the skirt in the general area of the sensation. She felt only the bare skin of her backside; there was nothing to indicate what was causing the sensation. Without standing, however, she could only twist her hand in certain ways. That meant that whatever it was might have been brushed aside by one of her thumbnails without her realising, or that even the slight shift in her body's position could have somehow moved it out of reach.

There was really only one course of action.

Although she wanted to reach down and retrieve her panties first, she knew that such an unusual movement would only draw attention. As she looked around, a nervous sweat covering her brow, she saw that nobody was looking over at her. She took a deep breath to try and settle her nerves.

She reached down to her skirt pocket with both hands, pretending to fumble with a tissue. Her eyes darted around the room, waiting to see if somebody had noticed her. They hadn't. It was a short distance for her hands to reach the clasp of her skirt. She unhitched it. Then she moved towards the zip. Hands trembling, she placed the skin of her index finger just underneath the zip. Slowly she began to pull it downwards, the finger serving to stifle the noise until it was barely more than a gnat's roar.

She reached the end. The skirt's belt, no longer a complete circle, lost it's tension. She held it to her lap, her heart beating like a war drum in her ears.

Leaning her elbows onto the desk, she raised her behind up off the chair.

She pulled her skirt free, clutching it in a bundle on top of her crotch.

She sat back down, her bare behind meeting the cold, rough plastic of her seat.

The sensation had stopped.

Now bottomless in a full classroom, Anna's eyes darted warily around the room to see if anyone had noticed her. It didn't seem that anyone had. She leaned back in her chair and, exposing her crotch beneath the table, she opened the skirt to look inside and see what was the problem...