He saw a gorgeous teen girl with reddish-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, a foxy face, turned up nose, pink lips.

He saw a girl standing about five and a half feet tall, a girl sixteen with lots of curves, with tits the size and shape of pears.

Bra! Ha, ha – I wasn't wearing any! My tits were bare under the short-sleeved blouse I wore – and the blouse was about two sizes too small.

Not only that, but when I lifted my skirt and pulled down my panties, my nipples got hard, so that they stuck out.

He saw all of me below the waist, since I held the skirt lifted up and my panties were pulled down.

He saw wide pink hips and smooth thighs and a dark brown bush and delicate dark pink pussy lips quivering between my legs.

My legs were bare except for my white ankle socks and loafers.

Mr. Vickers looked like a fish out of water, and sounded like one, too.

After a while, he got control enough of himself to swallow hard. He shook his head like he was trying to clear it.

"My God, Debbie Sue, have you gone crazy?!"

"Ummmmm, yes, I'm crazy – crazy about you, Mr. Vickers."

I held up my skirt in one hand. My white lace panties were rolled to the middle of my thighs. I touched his shoulder.

"Cover yourself immediately, young lady!" "Shhhhhhhhh! Not so loud, Mr. Vickers! What if someone should hear you?!"

In our small school, the assistant vice-principal didn't rate his own private secretary-receptionist – only the principal, Mr. Wainwright, did.

Which was good for me, since it meant that there wouldn't be any snoops outside the door, peeping through the keyhole.

Mr. Vickers is old enough to be my father – older. He's about a head taller than me, and must weight close to a hundred pounds more than me.

But when he started to get up, all I had to do was put one hand on his shoulder and say, "Please don't get up. I wouldn't want to scream."