The usual suspects.

Mrs. Stevens draws her eyes over the class as she taps on her clipboard. You hear quiet grumbles, questioning the obtuseness of roll calling. When your eyes drift to the right, you spot Heather Jenkins whispering to the girl behind her, her brow depressed against her eyelid.

"Joseph Ackers," the teacher kicks it off.

"Here."

"Chris Batt."

"Present."

"Rory Binner."

"Here."

"Darry Bunten."

"I'm here."

"Talia Cream."

"Here."

The word hangs over the room, everyone glancing at the other.

Mrs. Stevens looks up. The class turns their heads. The eye-darting half-Iranian girl, meanwhile, is taking out her binder from her backpack. Your penis stretches your pants upward, because you still, however, can't help yourself -- that tight little V-neck shirt she has on, dipping down her chest and pulling against her supple D-cup breasts, was very attracting. "Talia?"

"Yes?" the girl meekly replies.

For a second they stare each other down. You notice the other girls in the class look on inscrutably at the standoff, when finally Talia pipes up, hands between her knees, "G-green bra and panties, cotton."

"Thank you. Jo--"

"Ha!"

Quickly you close your mouth as a girl gives you a look. The roll call continues.

Penelope Franklin, tan colored with green waves at the hem. Wanda Gao, red with peach colored stripes. Sarah Jones, white. Then Heather Jenkins stands, as does your dick.

"Black," the brown-haired bombshell looks down. "And..." Everyone metaphorically lends an extra ear. "My bottom piece is a thong."

As Heather hastily sits back down, the guys snicker amongst themselves while you curse to yourself. Should've had the girls show their underwear as they responded, too.

Noted for future reference.

"Okay class." There comes the familiar phrase. As you start tuning everything else out, you decide to just chew it up for a bit. Penelope Franklin's nice thick thighs were far from hidden under her super high and tight dolphin shorts. On your far left by the window, sat the preppy Jacqueline Garner, who always wore girly skirts and other articles of that ilk; but never had she worn something this skin-revealing. It was so loose and light and short you almost didn't need a new rule to make her show her undies, anyway -- part of her naked butt cheek was pressed on to her chair while the rest of the skirt draped behind the metal fastening, giving a nice, risque view. Her bored look as she slumped her cheek - this time the one on her face -- against her hand, however, didn't suggest anything was amiss.

As you look around, you realize several of the girls in the class are wearing skirts, actually, probably half. And all of them were short and/or tight and very titillating to the eye.

Moving forward, Mrs. Stevens begins the subject of the day, a literature analysis of Beowulf. As the students listlessly take out their notes in a way that screamed Monday mornings suck, you bring out your rulebook, opening it.

The new rule effect was quite noticeable. Talia, in particular, seemed quite uncomfortable about disclosing what she was wearing underneath her outfit. Which was to be expected; no rational, ethical institution would enforce that on mere kids.

You tap your rulebook as if to silently say 'until now.'