Monica again, dressed to impress

Standing outside your door is Monica Fulton; only now instead of wearing spandex and dripping perspiration, the young woman is dressed in a short sleeveless sundress with flamboyant swaths of bright reds and yellows that seem to move even as she stands perfectly still. The dress is cut low in the front showing off a far amount of her full breasts and high on her thighs to show even more of her tanned legs.

"Hi again!" Her smile is as bright as her outfit, and although she tries to appear casual and relaxed, you can tell that her blonde wavy hair has been carefully brushed and her full lips have had a recent application of red lipstick. In her manicured hands is a small tin of cookies, but she makes no attempt to give them to you as she peeks over your shoulder into your office.

"I see you've been busy." Her hazel eyes taking in the damp T-shirt that has at least a half dozen smudges from your cleaning. "Why didn't you have the custodial staff take care of that?"

"My mom raised me to clean up myself and not expect someone else to do it for me." You explain with a shrug.

"Oh my!" Monica exclaims with a hint of a fake Southern drawl, "a good looking gentleman who cleans up after himself. How is it that your still single Mr. Hawkfeather?"

"Just lucky I guess." You joke and she chuckles softly in response. You'd have to be a blind man not to pick up on Monica's flirting, and it was getting harder and harder to keep your libido under control.

"How'd your tête à tête with Ms. Naylor go?" She asks innocently. "Did you charm her with your cute dimples, or was she as frigid as ever?" There is clearly not a lot of mutual respect between these two women an you can't help but wonder what Ms. 'we have a dress code here at the Pink Rose' Naylor would think of this look from one of her youngest and probably prettiest teachers.

"I thought I'd be neighborly and bring you some cookies." She brushes a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, clearly used to the effect that her good looks have on men, and not at all afraid to use it when she wants to. If Monica had really wanted to impress you she would have baked the cookies herself, these were clearly bought at the local convenience store, but hell, even store-bought cookies are better than nothing.

"I see you're making yourself at home." Monica peeks into the room behind you, "I've only been here a couple years, so I never got the chance to see the inside of Ms. Marshall's dreaded office." The young language teacher is clearly fishing for an invitation to come in, but you have nothing pressing to do and she did bring you cookies.

"Would you like to see what it looks like?" You ask and she happily follows you inside. She looks a little like a dancer as she walks gracefully around the room her short skirt swinging as she paces. Like the dancer, she knows she is being watched but pretends she's all alone as she takes in the furnishings. When she finds the paddle where you left it on the bookshelf she stops to run her hand over its length before she turns back to where you've been watching her.

She licks her lips provocatively. "Word's already got out about you and the others. Although," she hesitates as she looks you over again, "I think most of the girls are expecting a scowling red-skin with face paint, not a dimpled California surfer-dude with perfect teeth." You simply shrug off the implied question; once a day is more than enough to have to explain your history. Miss Fulton doesn't seem to mind your lack of response and goes right on chattering.

"Don't get the idea these are a bunch of sweet little innocents, Kyle." She warns you as her hand returns to rest on the paddle. "This here is exactly what some of these spoiled bitches need, you'll see."

"Thanks for the warning," you smile uneasily, not at all sure that that is what Senator Williams had in mind when he pushed you into this mess. Both your father and grandpa believed in a good walloping when it was called for, and you'd received more than a few when you were younger; but these were different times and the pristine debutants that were enrolled in this school were not likely to respond well to the paddle.

However, if this language teacher had flirted with the Colonel anything like she was with you, you bet she was the one that he was thinking about when he told you some of the staff needed a good fucking. Noting the sleekness of her toned body and full breasts as she preens, you decide that this wouldn't be much of a hardship. The differences between the prim Ms. Naylor and the vivacious Miss Fulton are too many to list, but you wouldn't mind investigating these differences more fully while you were here this year.

"Are you staying in one of the cottages?" Monica asks and then continues on without letting you correct her misinformation. "You're so lucky. I'm stuck in the faculty building." She nods her head indicating the general direction. "Only the senior female teachers have cottages, I guess they're too old to take advantage of the privacy like Alice, Christina and I would." She laughs throatily, looking at you with open interest.

"I wonder if Ms. Naylor fully thought out her decision to give you and the other men cottages." She smiles at you coyly. "I know she wanted you far away so you're not a distraction, but did she really mean to give you that much privacy?"