Sarah thinks quickly and Roger gets punished

Sarah turns beet red as Mrs. Fletcher approaches the three of you. "Stand up, and explain yourselves."

Roger turns pale. "I... I was..." He turned to you, and raised his eyebrows. "Michael was lifting up Sarah's skirt and had his fingers up her slit."

Mrs. Fletcher turned to Roger. "The correct term is 'vulva', Mr. Carston," she correct him firmly. "Sarah, is this true?"

Sara blushes. "Um. Mrs. Fletcher. Michael and I... were having a discussion about how we know things. I raised the question of how he could know that I was a girl. He was engaged in a practical experiment."

Mrs. Fletcher nodded. "I see. Yes, epistemology is one of the main themes in Lewis Carrol's writing. Michael: would you say that Sarah is a girl?"

You nod hesitantly. "Yes, Mrs. Fletcher."

She looks sternly at you. "On what grounds would you suppose that Sarah is a girl, Michael?"

You pause, hardly daring to speak. "Because... she has a 'vulva', Mrs. Fletcher."

"And you know this, how?" she pushes you.

"... because I felt it with my fingers, at the join of her legs," you confess. Sarah clasps her face in her hands.

Mrs. Fletcher nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Was Roger disrupting your discussion, Michael?"

You look to Roger, who is now completely ashen. "Um, yes he did, Mrs. Fletcher."

Mrs. Fletcher turned to Roger. "Mr. Carston, I think that you need a lesson both in human reproductive anatomy, and in observing appropriate boundaries. Rather than punish you myself, I think it might be helpful if I allow one of your classmates to select you as a partner. Are there any volunteers?"

After a moment's hesitation, a girl's hand shoots up. "I think I will need a compliant participant for my project, Mrs. Fletcher," says Vanessa, a raven-haired girl dressed in a goth outfit.

Mrs. Fletcher nods. "Yes, that's acceptable," she says. "The two of you will join me in my office to discuss particulars," she adds. "Let everyone learn from Roger's mistake: do not interrupt the girl's practical projects unless you are ready to be made into one, at the discretion of the Faculty. Or unless you are willing to undergo what alternatives we may consider." She looks to the class. "As you were."

You look to Sarah, who was taking her face out of her hands. You look around you, and see the class staring at you: the boys in something like awe, and the girls with something like trepidation. No-one dares to make any comment.

Sarah looks to you, her eyes wide. She doesn't look upset, but rather as though she has had a close brush with ****. "That could have been worse," she says, softly.

"I think I understand a bit more what you meant, before," you say, referring to Sarah's anxiety about your project. "But if that's what happens if someone interrupts us," you say, slowly, "... maybe things will be okay."

Sarah looks to you dubiously, but nods. "Yeah," she says. "Maybe things will be okay."

You both stand, facing each other awkwardly. Sarah is watching you, uncertainly.

You want to break the tension. At the same time... if it's perfectly fine for you to touch Sarah as part of your project with her... You reach under her skirt.

"What are you doing?" asks Sarah, expectant. You notice some of the class watching you, though almost all of them are trying very hard to look as though they are doing something else.

"I'm feeling underneath your skirt," you tell her, simply, your hand touching high up on her thigh.

"Why would you do that?" she asks.

"Because," you say, "I want to see whether you'll stop me from doing it." You close in an reach higher.

"What a ridiculous reason to do something," Sarah says, not unkindly, shifting slightly to give you better access. "Do you jump off of buildings, to see whether something will stop you from falling to the ground?"

"No, I don't," you say, your fingers discovering her sex. Her upper thighs are moist. "But I don't have a reason to try that."

"So," Sarah says, blushing as you prod gently at her pussy lips, "you must have some other reason for reaching up my skirt."

"Yes, I do," you say. "I wanted to play with your... vulva," you say, taking care to use the correct term.

Sarah nods. "Does it give you some sort of pleasure, to play with things that are not yours?"

"It does," you say. "Listen, Sarah..."