Other Institutions: Loverbright Academy: Part 3

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In fact, the boys were even more disturbing than the girls. Lovebright's had only been co-educational for a couple of years, and girls still outnumbered boys by about three to one. Teens are terribly sensitive to embarrassment, so Mrs. Baxter expected that even the seniors would be a little intimidated by all those girls.

Far from it. The boys strolled down the halls like minor princes on a royal walkabout. They strutted like gangsters who had just been acquitted. They joked and laughed. They kissed the cheeks and patted the barely covered fannies of the girls they walked by. They whistled and stared, and handed out loud, unsubtle compliments at girls they admired.

And the girls ate it up. They giggled and tittered at the sexual innuendo and basked in the most tasteless compliments. All the girls laughed at the boys' lame jokes and flirted shamelessly at every opportunity. The halls were loud with shouting and conversations, jokes and laughter, more like a party than a school day. The noise settled a little bit as Mrs. Baxter walked by, and many a nervous glance, or so it seemed to her, was directed her way. But a few feet behind her the revelry started up again, as rambunctious as ever.

When she had recovered from her initial surprise enough to look more closely, Mrs. Baxter noticed another oddity. There didn't seem to be any solitary boys. Every boy in the school was walking along with an attractive girl on his arm, sometimes two. Even the big chunky goofs and quiet, nerdy types seemed to be amazingly popular. A few of the more confident guys were followed by an ever-changing throng of admiring girl students, all jockeying to be near him, like groupies around a rock star.

Mrs. Baxter noticed one fellow in particular, pausing outside a classroom with his girlfriend in tow. She was a head taller than he and spectacularly beautiful. She was dressed, like all the girls, in a travesty of the school uniform: a slinky white bodyshirt over a foreshortened kilt, dark, patterned hose that sparkled as she walked, and high-heeled black ankleboots. When Mrs. Baxter was a student, even hair worn that long and loose would have been against regulations. Not to mention the blatant display of affection with which she said goodbye to her boyfriend.

Evidently they were going to different classes. Standing by the classroom door, in full view of anybody, the couple embraced, while the girl bent down and gave her boyfriend a long, sizzling kiss. The kiss turned into an upright necking session. When the boy ran his hands down her back and onto her bum the girl merely cooed excitedly and rubbed her crotch tighter against him. At last he broke the kiss and gently pushed her away. She was breathing hard. Reluctantly, looking back at him doe-eyed, she turned and waltzed into the classroom where the teacher was patiently waiting for the class to assemble.

The girl was barely out of sight before another girl, a hot-looking blonde in a tight white jersey and an equally short kilt, shouted out his name from down the hall. She tripped down the noisy corridor toward him in her wedge-heeled slides, smiling excitedly, and fairly threw herself into his arms, loosing one gaudy shoe in the process. After a long and passionate melding of lips it was again the boy who pushed her gently away. Until he mentioned it, she seemed hardly to have noticed her missing shoe.

As she watched the couple recede down the hall, arm in arm, Mrs. Baxter looked on, amazed and unbelieving. Never mind that the way both girls carried on with the boy bordered on public indecency, much less proper decorum for a private school. There was an even bigger mystery. The girls were both gorgeous and radiating sex appeal; the guy was short, plain, a little frumpy and wore glasses. How in the world did he ever attract a girl such as that? Mrs. Baxter pushed a stray curl away from her ear and was surprised to find moisture there. The aura of teenage sexual tension was so thick it was affecting even her.

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