Old Rule: Females in skirts must prop their legs/feet on desks while sitting.

As you draw your mind away from Garner's legs, your loopy libido takes over once again. You begin writing.

Old Rule: Female students or faculty wearing skirts must prop their legs/feet on desks or other higher surfaces while sitting down.

If this worked as planned, it would make for a great scenery booster. Tame, sure. But not completely unenjoyable.

Finished, you look up. Just the boring nape of the guy in front of you. Then you see the girl to your left, Allie Loreno, and hiccup.

The brown-haired, slim hispanic has her folder against her stomach, but didn't have it set against the desk. Instead, she has her sturdy thighs supporting it as she completely covers the surface of her desk with her two bare, smooth legs set on top of it, her flats circling the air in idle boredom as she occasionally swings it from side to side in half-restlessness. As you look down, you see her skirt has fallen down as a result. In fact, upon closer inspection, from this angle you could even see her pink crotch-riding panties pulling under her pussy and the sight in the middle of class is nearly too much. You study her face, and see she doesn't seem to notice you, or anything unusual about her current choice of posture. Her hand is moving across the sheet of paper against her folder, copying the notes from the board with relative indifference. Before she notices you, you tear your gaze away, and look around. Sure enough, all the other girls in skirts have done the same; Jacqueline's leggy self was now practically half-naked, with her gleaming legs crossed over the other in an angle straight out of a swim ring promo, skirt practically a wavy belt, and the sunny blonde Trish Corser, whose dad was some fancy corporate shark (as she wasn't reticent about reminding others), was even moving her knees back and forth open and closed like a scissor as she lazily swiped at her phone screen, her calves comfortably planted on the sheen of her desk, feet together, and the effects that had on her swishing, hiked up skirt makes you gulp, flashes of white dancing under your eye.

The chairs also seem to be at a more comfortable gap away from the desks than before for them to have their legs up on top of them without contorting anyone. Convenient.

The situation has really tickled you, however. Looking around, you decide to pry a little.

Leaning towards Allie, you catch her attention. "Allie."

She turns her head up in surprise. "Uh. Yeah?" After a second, though, she blinks and grabs your hand. Then to your surprise -- and before you could ask -- she smushes your hand against her soft, graspable breast, allowing you to give it a good rub before releasing you. The tingle of her breastly flesh still coursing through your fingers.

"Ho...holy shit," you catch your breath. You nearly forgot that rule about needing them to have their breasts or ass (or legs) rub against you, but you were sure glad the rulebook didn't. You realize your hand is still limply in mid-air and pull it back to your desk. When you look at Allie again, she has a similar expression to the one Mrs. Stevens had not too long ago: waiting with slight impatience, completely nonchalant about the harassment implications of what just happened.

Nevertheless, if you were going to assume a face, you had to get used to this. Collecting yourself, you continue and point at her feet.

"Why are you sitting like that?" you ask, a finger aimed at her white and black checkered flats crossed shin over shin and pointing towards the ceiling.

Wrinkling her brow, Allie looks at her propped up, and bared, legs, then back to you, setting a hand on the side of her thigh. "What? What's wrong with it?"

You feign concern. "This isn't your living room, you know. This is a public classroom!"

"Um, yeah, I know that. And?"

"Well," you move your head side to side, "you're showing off all of your legs up to your ass from here. And, frankly, I can see your underwear too." You stroke your chin. "It really is pink."

Allie looks at you silently at first. Then, her face flushes. "What did you just say, you pervert?!"

Uh-oh.

Stepped your bounds, it seemed. You probably forgot that just because they had to rub themselves against you, and were wearing revealing clothing, and were putting them out there for the whole world to see, that didn't necessarily mean they were the kind of people that suggested they were -- in this world you've created, it was considered, in your school, anyway, normally mundane to do all those things. Everyone did it. Probably even that staunch church group that slipped tracts into lunch bags when no one was looking that said, 'Your body is a temple.' with glitzy hearts and a verse citation too small to read without a loupe.

At the moment, however, miss Loreno, as pretty looking angry as she is bored, is ready to call you an angry name, it seems; probably sic her boyfriend on you by the gym later, etcetera.

But she still hasn't put down her feet. Her legs and bottom of her ass and the cunt hugging fabric of her panties, are still in plain view before you. It's almost comical, but the situation makes you more aroused at how oblivious she's acting in spite of her understandable reaction to your not so subtle perving.