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  PERFECT STREAK

  A Zany New Erotic Story

  By

  Lexington Manheim

  Copyright © 2014 Lexington Manheim

  Published by New Dawning Bookfair at Smashwords

  PERFECT STREAK

  I The Master Plan

  Hildy Bowlers admired the brown paper bag that rested beside her on the desktop. The two carefully cut out circles in the sack gave the amusing appearance of something that was looking right back at her. Employing a little imagination, a horizontal crease in the paper almost simulated a sort of devilish smile. It was as though the bag were smirking to Hildy, “In a little while, I’ll be all that stands between you and the most embarrassing humiliation you can think of!”

  The desk on which the 20-year-old Hildy sat was that of Ms. Pantaget, Valefour Academy’s art professor. Ms. Pantaget wasn’t in school that day. Fridays she taught a creative expression class through a remedial education program at the state prison. She provided the inmates with what the state hoped would be an artistic outlet for channeling their emotions through charcoal drawings of fruit and other non-dangerous still-life objects. It meant that the school’s art classroom was deserted—except for Hildy, who, as a student assistant to the art professor, had a key and full access to the room at any time during the hours the school was open. Hildy helped by setting up paints or other art supplies before Ms. Pantaget’s arrival and sometimes organizing things during the professor’s absences on Fridays. The professor said the janitors were too abusive of the materials when they cleaned up the room. So she preferred having one of her students set up and stow away the art supplies and Hildy was her choice. Art classes never had written exams, so there was no sensitive information kept in the classroom, and no reason to believe Hildy couldn’t be trusted unsupervised in the room. As a well-behaved student, she’d earned that trust.

  That the classroom was—and would remain for the rest of the afternoon—void of its teacher and any other students was essential to the plan. Combining that with the room’s proximity to the Assembly Hall made it the perfect location from which to launch this particular caper. In fact, Hildy marveled at the perfection of the circumstances that existed to allow for her plan to leap from being a wild, sexy fantasy to a doable reality. It was finally going to happen. This was going to be the day. It was all going to begin and end in this room. She could hardly wait to get her clothes off.

  Hildy’s daydreams were disturbed by the sound of the door opening. Cindy Wicks poked her blonde head in. Undoubtedly, the first thing Cindy noticed was her friend, Hildy, sitting barefoot and cross-legged on top of the professor’s desk, her shoes lying on the floor. Hildy waved for Cindy to come inside, which she did, careful to make no sound as she closed the door.

  “Where’re the others?” whispered Hildy.

  “Still taking a piss.”

  “Anybody see you heading here from the girls’ room?”

  Cindy shook her head.

  Hildy held up her brown paper bag for her friend to see. Cindy reached under her shirt and produced from it a nearly identical brown paper sack with cutout circles similar to those in Hildy’s bag.

  Hildy nodded approval. So far, so good.

  They looked at each other for a moment and giggled. Hildy held her index finger to her lips and shook her head.

  Cindy plopped into a chair. Her feet shuffled and she played with her fingers. Anyone could tell she wasn’t at ease in this environment. The art classroom was Hildy’s world, not Cindy’s.

  The first thing Hildy did after keying into the classroom was to draw down the shades to the base of the windows. It blocked some, but not all of the bright sunlight that squeaked through the sides of the shades. Ms. Pantaget often did that to prevent extraneous sunshine from overwhelming the room. So Hildy was positive this wouldn’t draw any special attention from outdoor passersby. Also, the art professor long ago taped black construction paper over the door’s vertical glass window pane so as to block out any flickering fluorescent corridor light. No one could see in. Within the confines of the art classroom, they had complete privacy.

  The door opened, giving the girls a little start. Both grabbed for their paper bags as if they were top secret plans and stared at the entrance. It was Susan McGruder. No problem. Susan was expected. Hildy and Cindy held up their paper sacks as though they were part of a secret salute. Susan held out her own paper bag.

  “Where’s Dara?” asked Hildy.

  * * * *

  Dara Javitz’s heart beat faster than usual as she rinsed her hands and gazed in the restroom mirror. What the fuck am I doing? she asked herself over and over. This was Hildy’s idea. Why had she agreed to go through with it? What possible good could come of this? And the possible bad that could result… Well, the very thought of it caused a tightness in her chest.

  She snatched a couple of paper towels from the dispenser and began rigorously drying her hands as she inhaled one deep breath after another. “Just don’t…just don’t,” she mouthed to herself. But, even while her internal voice waged a battle in her mind, her body kept right on moving out the door and down the corridor in the direction of the art classroom and the dreaded plan. Her friends waited inside and they’d be mad if she delayed. It was just another case of peer pressure being the all-powerful trump card that eggs on young people who otherwise would never dream of doing the things their friends tell them they must do.

  Had Dara seen or heard anyone else when she entered the corridor, she’d have aborted the whole plan right there, and explained to her friends later that it was for reasons beyond her control. However, no one was in the corridor or classrooms. They were all in the Assembly Hall for the annual awards ceremony, which had begun at 4 p.m. All students and faculty were expected to attend the event when it was held each year in early May. It was the school’s big hurrah for those who had achieved academic excellence, extracurricular achievement, or other distinction. For the duration of the event, the remainder of the school would be a veritable ghost town. That’s what Hildy had counted on when she first proposed the plan. Dara had to admit that Hildy’s prediction about the empty halls was right on the mark.

  Dara approached Room 118. She gave a nervous look up and down the corridor, just to be certain she wasn’t observed. Then she flung open the door and darted across the threshold. The suddenness of Dara’s entrance caused the three other girls to jump. Hildy and Cindy, both of whom had hair that fell below the shoulders, were in the process of pinning up their long locks. When the door swung open, Cindy startled and dropped a pin.

  “Well, somebody’s awful anxious,” snickered Susan.

  “Sssshhhh,” Cindy cautioned as she felt about the floor for her pin.

  “Got your bag?” Hildy asked Dara.

  Dara nodded. The three other girls looked at her with expressions that asked, “So where is it?” Dara understood, untucked her shirt from her pants, and began fumbling under her blouse for the item hidden beneath. When the fumbling took too long, Susan made a face of exasperation while Hildy and Cindy finished pinning up their hair. After a few more seconds, Dara sheepishly produced the desired article, her own paper bag with cutouts. Hildy gave everyone two thumbs up. Phase One was complete. It was time for Phase Two—stripping.

  Taking a blouse button between thumb and forefinger, Hildy whispered “Okay” in a singsong tone that indicated the rest of the unspoken sentence was “you know what to do next.” The three other girls followed suit, beginning by removing their shoes. Hildy, whose shoes were already off, unbuttoned the front of her blouse. Any hopes Dara harbored that the others would chicken out and bring the plan to a halt disappeared when Susan pulled off
her top to reveal a pink bra. To Dara, the appearance of that bra meant this was really going to happen. The pace of the disrobing quickened. Soon all the girls had their shirts off. Hildy slid her pants over her ankles.

  “What’s that?” squeaked Dara, giving the others a panicked start that sent them into cover-up positions.

  “What?” asked Cindy in the softest of whispers.

  “Did anyone hear that?” Dara gulped. She was closest to the door, and she stared at it as though she expected it to swing open any moment.

  “Hear what?” Susan asked.

  “I dunno. I thought I heard something.”

  “Like what?” was Susan’s impatient question.

  “I dunno . Listen.”

  The girls sat petrified for several seconds.

  “Dara, is someone outside the door?” Cindy asked.

  “I dunno.”

  Hildy, who was in the most ungainly of positions—her shirt off, her pants hanging on by one ankle, and her knees drawn up against her brassiere clad boobs—finally spoke with the quiet insistence the moment required.

  “Well, is there?” she asked a trembling Dara.

  Dara shrugged.

  “Is the door locked?” Susan inquired.

  “Obviously not, if you all just walked in,” responded Hildy.

  The girls just looked at one another. Susan turned toward the girl closest to the door. “Dara…?” she said, motioning her head in the door’s direction. Dara didn’t need further instruction. Holding her shirt over her front torso, Dara tiptoed on bare feet to the door to perform the obvious task. Holding their breaths until they heard the familiar click, the girls exhaled in unison, reassured no one would burst in on them. It was safe to go back to taking off their clothes.

  Had someone walked in, it would’ve been impossible to explain. Four girls getting naked in a deserted classroom? What reasonable explanation could they give? It was too hot to wear clothes? They were checking each other for moles? Nude models for the art class? What class? There were no students, and not even the professor was there. What’s more, Valefour never used figure models in its art classes. It was considered too risqué for the conservative institution where parents sent their sons and daughters to receive a proper and dignified education for two years before transferring to a university. It would’ve been the inglorious end to Hildy's master plan had a stupid and preventable blunder caused the four of them to be caught with their pants down—literally.

  * * * *

  What a shame that would’ve been! pondered Hildy. What a missed opportunity! Because—oh!—what a brilliant plan it was! As Hildy saw it, its genius was in its simplicity.

  It all began about ten years before, when Hildy saw a comic movie on TV. In one scene, a man and woman unintentionally end up driving around naked in a car. When the car gets stuck in traffic, a crowd of people gathers round to gawk and laugh at the auto’s embarrassed occupants. The actors playing the two naked characters comically screamed “Whoah-oh-ooooooooooh-oh-oh-aaah-aaaaahhh!” as they bounced on the car’s seats in utter humiliation. Although the movie camera’s framing didn’t show it, Hildy delighted in imagining the jiggling body parts—the woman’s fleshy boobs bouncing all about and the man’s hardening dick and bare balls bobbing like a buoy on rough seas. The idea of being caught naked in public mesmerized the young girl who could think of nothing else for days.

  It wasn’t just the thought of the nudity in the film that thrilled her. It was also the faces in the scene. Not just the faces of the two embarrassed, naked characters. Hildy was also exhilarated by the images of the faces of all the many people who crowded round the car to enjoy the naked spectacle on display—faces that registered shock, glee, lust, and every emotion in between. The grinning, the laughing, the wide eyes and raised eyebrows, the mouths that formed a large letter “O,” and the hands that pressed surprised palms against disbelieving cheeks. They were the faces of people having the time of their lives enjoying others’ naked humiliation. As a little child, the scene made Hildy laugh hysterically.

  But a couple years later, when she reached puberty, the scene took on even greater meaning as she discovered that the embarrassment of unintended public nudity provided her with sexual titillation. From that day forward, it was her favorite naughty fantasy. Hildy wished that she might be lucky enough someday to come across naked people in a car so that she could grin and point and enjoy their nude humiliation. What a thrill that would be! But that never happened. Still the fantasy, and the sexual urges that went along with it, remained strong.

  It might have been during her last semester of high school that she first started fantasizing about the scene from a different perspective. Rather than thinking about public nudity from the viewpoint of the people getting the unexpected nudie show, she fantasized about it from the perspective of the naked woman in the car. The thought of her own naked body on display for large crowds of people, possibly including personal friends and acquaintances who would point and laugh and make vulgar comments, gave Hildy a climactic rush. Up till then, she had no idea that public humiliation could be such an incredible turn-on.

  She began fantasizing about every which way she might be reluctantly exposed nude to other people—in cars, on the beach, walking on the street, and, of course, the “naked in school” scenario. These fantasies excited her to no end.

  A personal favorite she’d act out again and again involved her stripping nude and sitting on the edge of her bed. She’d pretend she was the naked girl in the car, just like the one in the movie. Again, like the movie, the fantasy car would get caught in a traffic jam, and hordes of people would gather round it. Sexually aroused by the imagined sight of faces all around her, Hildy’s pussy would open wide and drip its juices onto the bed covers. Hildy just loved the thought of people being able to see her leave a wet spot on the car seat. How deliciously humiliating! Then she’d imagine the car window somehow being dislodged and removed. Or perhaps it was a convertible she was in, and the roof began to retract. Now she was outdoors, exposed and accessible! Her make-believe gawkers could reach right out and grab hold of her nudity! When she reached this part of the fantasy, Hildy would use one of her hands to squeeze her breasts the way she imagined a raucous and horny crowd would manhandle her. The other hand she’d move onto her crotch for indelicate play in her pussy. She imagined a large, brutish man shoving his fingers deep into her cunt and masturbating her. All of it, she imagined, was out of her control. She couldn’t stop it. She could only sit there and enjoy it. When her parents were around, she’d enact this in silence to avoid arousing their suspicions. When she was alone in the house, though, she’d let herself scream “Whoooooooaaaaaaa!” as she’d bring herself off acting out this incredible fantasy. Hildy never knew a better orgasm.

  However, despite the raging desire to do something sexually mischievous, she had no intention of attempting to carry out any of these make-believe scenarios. She was, after all, barely 18 then. That’s a time when public humiliations—even small ones—seem so serious that you don’t see how you could possibly go on living should such a misfortune befall you. Being caught naked in public was, in Hildy’s mind, the ultimate embarrassment. So, while it was fun to fantasize about a public display of her bare tits, pussy and ass, that was all it was—a fantasy. She could never bring herself ever to do something crazy like that. Not for real.

  Then came a day in February when something happened. The girls—Hildy, Cindy, Susan, and Dara—were now all second-year students at Valefour. They would graduate the two-year institution in May and transfer to larger schools in the fall to finish their college educations. The weather was too cold to stay outdoors. So they were inside Cindy’s house, killing time surfing the Internet.

  Cindy was a local girl who lived with her parents. In the privacy of her own room, she accessed porn on the Internet for her and her friends at every opportunity—usually at Susan’s insistence. Susan knew all the best websites for seeing naked men popping big boners.
They were viewing photos and commenting how gay all the guys looked, when the conversation somehow turned to the practice of streaking. They all agreed that streaking was a dorky thing to do, especially for those who did it at their own school where everyone knew them.

  That’s when Susan posed the question, “What if you could streak your school without anyone knowing it’s you?”

  “What?” Cindy snickered. “Are you gonna wear a paper bag over your head?”

  It was just a joke. But it was the kernel of an idea that was about to germinate into what would become the grand scheme. The scheme by which all other schemes at Valefour would later be compared. The master plan that would make the girls’ final days of junior college an unmatchable adventure, turn Hildy’s wet dreams into a reality, and become a glorious, unforgettable part of Valefour history.

  An important part of the plan was hatched by Cindy’s innocent quip. Yet, once the laughter subsided, Hildy’s brain went to work on the details. It didn’t happen all at once, but rather over the next few weeks as Hildy combined data with ingenuity. She unveiled the plan to her friends on a March evening when the four of them were again alone in Cindy’s home and had appropriated for themselves a bottle of wine from the stock of Cindy’s vacationing parents.

  The idea was to live out one of the great sexual fantasies of all time—running naked through your own school without getting caught or suffering any of the usual consequences. Getting caught meant likely being arrested, or, at the very least, being subject to any of the various disciplines of the school’s hard-nosed lady provost, Dr. Zabrinski. The usual repercussions could also include the never-ending teasing and taunting that would come from classmates, friends, and others, as well as having your naked pictures splashed all over the Internet. There would also be the inevitable “talk” with furious parents. That, of course, is all in addition to the absolute red-faced embarrassment and shame the girls would suffer if they appeared without any clothes in front of so many people they knew.