Jessica's Presentation

It wasn’t long before registration was over and our whole class was sitting in a stuffy classroom for our first lesson, boys like me fidgeting restlessly in our pants and girls lazily wafting their faces with their textbooks and not really getting bothered by the heat. We boys were rather on-edge and anxious anyway, because Jessica was next to give her presentation and we knew what she was like.

With a smattering of applause the girl walked confidently to the front of the classroom now, head held high, her pleated school skirt bumping on her bum. There were a few wolf-whistles from the pluckier boys, which Jessica knowingly acknowledged with a self-satisfied smile. I felt the sting of jealously I always felt when she gave out favours to boys who weren’t me.

Jessica grinned at the class for a moment. Then she put one leg forward, lifted her skirt and petticoat, and posed with her stocking-top and garter-belt showing. This time there were uproarious whistles from boys and girls alike. Jessica sure knew how to get a class’s attention!

“Girls are better than boys!” she announced, giving the title of her presentation. “Wanna know how I know?”

Dropping her hemline back down to her upper thigh, Jessica proceeded to twirl around and bend over double, hands on the rear of her skirt. Up it flew, and her petticoat with it, and the whole class was looking at her shimmery-silver satin knickers with the hot pink lace.

Every boy caught his breath. The show only needed to be long enough for that, and almost immediately Jessica let go of her skirt and whirled back around, beaming.

“Because we can control them without even touching them!” the girl declared, in answer to her own question. “Like I just did then!”

We boys knew she wasn’t wrong. Every one of us was now fidgeting and shifting in our hard wooden chairs, hot-faced and breathless, hastily adjusting the elastic in our underpants. I think we were all trying to fight the inevitable, as Jessica well knew. It was always a hard thing to manage and sometimes you just couldn’t suppress it at all – this being one of those times. In seconds, none of our pants were fitting us properly any more.

On the whole then, the boys weren’t any too thrilled with this presentation so far! What was more, we all had an ominous feeling it was about to get worse. It wasn’t much fun to be helpless in the hands of a girl like Jessica, though I couldn’t help thinking this was the best possible way to "show and tell" my boy-classmates how I felt every day!

“As you know, I have a boyfriend who’s not allowed to touch me,” Jessica continued in the same clear voice as before. I blushed, hearing some nasty sniggers. “In fact no boys at school are allowed to touch me, or any of us girls, but we’re allowed to touch you!”

She made this last part very much a taunt. Then the girl sauntered over to stand beside a boy who was sitting on the front row.

“Actually, boys are so scared of the school rule about not touching girls that it’s almost impossible to get them to do it,” she went on. “This can be a problem for the girl who thinks she can control them to do absolutely everything. Let me demonstrate!”

She tweezed a lock of the boy’s touselled hair in her finger and thumb and pulled sharply, twisting it before she let go so it would sting all the more.

“Ow!” the boy cried indignantly, starting in his chair, one hand flying to the top of his head. But although he glared daggers at Jessica, he certainly obeyed the school rule like she’d predicted he would.

“Too frightened to slap a girl, even when provoked,” Jessica summed up briskly, marching to a boy sitting further back.

“Stand up,” she commanded him.

The boy heaved a sigh and stood, obviously mortified beyond belief, because just like the rest of us he was still displaying some very visible after-effects from Jessica's having shown us her knickers. His poor face was burning brick-red.

“Wow, that elastic can really stretch when it has to!” Jessica remarked, just to embarrass him some more. “Wish you’d lend those to my boyfriend, he’s got his old beige ones on!”

This time it was my turn to blush, amid the class’s laughter! But blushing was nothing to what happened to the boy next. Jessica shot out her hand to where he was most pushed-out, and tweaked the very tip as hard as she could between her red-lacquered fingernails.

“Ow – OW!” His cry was ten times more pain than that of the boy whose hair Jessica had pulled. Even from where I was sitting, I could see the tears start to his eyes. The look he gave her was one of utter fury, and in that instant his hand did twitch towards her. We all saw it. Straight away though, he forced it back down by his side, and infuriated shame replaced the emotion of before.

“Even after that, he’s too scared of getting into trouble to slap me!” Jessica announced triumphantly, as she strode back to the front of the classroom and her crimson-faced victim sat down with a bump, gripping his painful stiffness in both hands. “Now for the next part I’ll need a boy-volunteer from the audience.”

Jessica’s volunteer – if you can call him that, because the boy she picked on certainly wouldn’t have done it if it had been up to him – was a timid, trembling, tiny little thing, one of my friends who I usually got changed with before PE. She made him come to the front and he stood shyly there.

“So can a girl control a boy enough to make him break that school rule?” Jessica challenged the class, daring and brassy, speaking as if my friend wasn’t even there. “Betcha I can! I will now make this boy so hot for me he’ll have a go at getting his hands on the pert princess of our school, and what’s more…I won’t even have to touch him to make him do it! Wanna see?”

The girls apparently did, to judge from their reaction. Even the boys seemed interested now, in a cautious way. Maybe they saw it was in their best interests to know just how much Jessica was able do to hurt, tease and embarrass those of our age and sex.

Jessica moved towards my friend and stood close in front of him, really close, within smelling-distance, the closest she could be in fact without their bodies touching. I still managed to feel an absurd little pang of envy, even though I'm sorry to say I was also thankful her victim just this once wasn't me!

You could have heard a pin drop as the class watched, all of us on the edge of our seats waiting to see what would happen. Jessica was breathing normally, but of course my little friend would be able to feel every tiny gust and puff of air caressing and playing on his face and neck, delicately, almost unbearably.

It took less than two minutes for Jessica’s theory to be proven. My friend's face was scarlet and he’d begun to tremble, having obvious trouble catching his breath. That, and the fact he was poking out an inch in the direction of Jessica's skirt, were the sure signs! There were a few last gulps, twitches and false starts, and then the overmastering nearness and scent of Jessica pushed him beyond losing his nerve. As if in a daze he jerkily lifted a hand towards her boobs.

Slap! Jessica stopped that hand before it was even close. Her other one fell on his cheek – slap again! – and then all the boy could do was whimper and squirm in pain.

“Ta-daah!” the girl sang. “One boy, controlled into trying to touch me without even needing to be touched!”

The girls in our class gave way to riotous cheers and applause. Jessica curtsied beautifully, loving the praise, while the hurt boy shuffled back to his seat and blushed down at his desk for the rest of the lesson.

When we boys had gym afterwards I caught up with my friend, who was sadly getting changed in our usual corner. “You OK?” I asked gently.

“Y-Yes,” he stammered. I could tell he’d been having a private little cry, and my heart went out to him. “Um, I think you’re dead lucky to have Jessica for a girlfriend, but you’re braver than me for staying with her!”

I grinned and blushed, happy that he was able to make even tearful little jokes like that.

“It’s because I’m not brave that I don’t get rid of her,” I told him firmly, “and I’m not lucky. Anyway, did she smell nice? I ask because I’ve got a whole evening to come of what you only had to put up with for two minutes!”

“She smelled lovely,” my friend answered in a sort of moan.

“Then you’re the lucky one,” I said with great earnestness. “Tonight you can go home and, well, think about the nice part of what happened to you, if you know what I mean. Jessica doesn't even let me do that," I confided with a sigh.

My friend winced sympathetically. “Poor you!” he exclaimed.

"Lucky you,” I said, and grinning at each other we made a start putting on our PE kit, friends again.

THE END