Last night I had a strange dream—more of a nightmare, really. I dreamed I was trapped in a massive prison living in a tiny grey cell. The prison had thousands and thousands of identical cells spread over many floors and buildings. None of the rooms had numbers or labels, and every prisoner had no name. Visitors arrived all the time but could only visit one random prisoner, so you never saw anyone you knew. My cell was slowly filling up with jelly-filled balloons that crowded around my feet. I’m sure the dream has something to do with visiting the adult store yesterday. I would have told Mum, but she would have told me to lay off the cheese, or something equally ridiculous.
I should also say that over the last few months, I have been feeling increasingly horny. I’ve been getting myself off more often too, ever since the spin cycle introduced me to the pleasures of mechanical things. I found that my toothbrush is too buzzy and have tried various things around the house to varying effect. Ever since that first adult store visit, my libido has exploded. I feel a need to touch myself so often that my previous self-pleasure sessions three or four times a week are no longer satisfying. I’m doing it morning, noon, and night, sometimes more than once at a time. I am starting to feel that every orgasm I achieve is just fanning the flames of desire and never satisfying them.
On Sunday, I spent early morning catching up with study and revision. Aimee spent it sleeping off an imaginary evening of passion with an imaginary lover. Mid-morning, Mum’s parents arrived. I don’t get along well with them. I much prefer Dad’s parents, who we spent holidays with, as they act like grandparents. The best part about Mum’s parents visiting is that Grannie cooks a brilliant Sunday roast. I’m happy to help out, but only because I want to learn how to do the same.
Grannie hates being called a grannie, so of course I do it all the time. She wants us to use their first names. Grandad, or Chester as he prefers, I find creepy. He pretty much leaves me alone. Mostly Chester prefers the obvious charms of Aimee, on account of her tits and flirting, I think. I’ve seen him touch her bum or try to, and she always makes an escape, I’m happy to say. I’ve seen him grab a feel of mum, but she just shrugs or giggles and passes it off.
Chester is acting kind of strangely today. He keeps looking at me oddly and trying to start a conversation. I’m keeping myself busy with chopping vegetables; I have to make everything exactly the same size, and no one cares except me. When Grannie went into the lounge to speak to mum, Chester seized his chance.
“Did I see you down Western Avenue on Wednesday afternoon last week?”
I turned my back to rinse my hands in the sink and felt my face burning red.
“No, no, I would have been in school on Wednesday.” I got myself composed before turning back around.
“I was sure it was you, or should I say, the hoodie and jeans you always wear. I would have called out, but you did not have your skating board thing with you.”
“I’m not the only person who wears a hoody and jeans, Chester.” I felt a bit bolder.
“What were you doing down Western Avenue?” Grannie directed the question to Chester as she walked back towards the kitchen. She can hear a whisper from two rooms away. She completely missed the part about me being there; I was so glad of that.
Chester mumbled and groaned and said something about a cheap mechanic and brakes and a buddy of his as he wandered out of the kitchen. I realised my go-to faded red hoody and jeans were as recognisable as my face and knew I had to find something else to wear to the adult store. The rest of the day passed by without anything interesting. Grannie pushed Chester about Western Avenue again, and he bluffed his way out of it. I kept my head down and went to my room as soon as I finished eating.
Monday at school, I headed for the school office as soon as we broke for lunch. I had the idea that I could find some different clothes in lost property to wear to the adult store in the future. Still a hoody to keep my face covered, just a different colour. I got there just before the secretary closed for lunch.
“I think I might have lost a hoody top in school; it was baggy and with a hood.”
“Abby, you should come back later; I’m about to lock the door and have my lunch.” I would guess the secretary was in her twenties, her hair was scooped into a bun and she wore very conservative clothes.
“I helped out with the clothes donation to the homeless last term; I know where they are, and I promise to be quick.” I was surprised she knew my name.
The office had three doors behind the counter, a stationary cupboard, the school records cupboard, and the lost property room. The doors were all kept locked. The lost property room was stacked with clear boxes of clothes before the last donation. I was sure I could find something to wear to disguise myself. The secretary opened the counter and let me through as she passed me to turn the key in the outer door. It felt slightly strange to be locked in with the secretary—strange but thrilling.
The secretary closed the counter and then unlocked the lost property room. It had hardly changed since last year. There was a small table and two chairs, a small beaten-up sofa, a TV, and a fridge. She got her lunch from the fridge and sat at the table on one of the chairs and started eating. There were a couple of large bins on the floor, which she told me contained this month’s and last month’s lost property that had been handed in. There were also a couple of trays with odd bits of jewellery near each bin. In one tray I recognised three tokens and wondered who had lost them in the school.
The secretary said it would be safest to look in the older boxes as it was less likely anyone would come forward to claim stuff. I think she had guessed I had not lost anything but was just looking for a different top. The boxes were labelled boys and girls. I rummaged through the first girl box, but nothing was suitable. The second girl’s box was no better; I put it back and pulled out a boy’s box. As I pulled the box out, I noticed a smaller box up on the shelf above it. It looked like clothes but different; I found myself staring at it until the secretary spoke.
“That’s all underwear, the box on the shelf.” The secretary walked over and took the box down as she spoke and handed it to me. Inside was a mix of the approved big plain knickers and a surprising amount of smaller lace and bright coloured ones. There were even a few bra’s mixed in. How do you mislay underwear? I wondered. I wish I was here on my own; some of these would be perfect for the adult store visits.
“There are some fancy makes and expensive items in there,” the secretary said. I noticed she was standing quite close to me.
I mumbled something and bent down into the boy’s lost property box and rummaged. There was a dark green hoody that felt like it would be good. I pulled it out and checked the front and back to ensure that it had no lettering, pictures, or marks on it. I held it up, and it was at least as big as the one I wore, perfect for my purposes. “I think this might be it,” I said.
“You have to try it on,” the secretary said. “I am supposed to make sure items belong to the person claiming them.”
I held it in front of me to check the size. “I’m sure it will fit; I mean, I’m sure it is the one I lost.” I knew I was fooling no one.
“You have to try it on; that’s the rule.” The secretary was sitting again and staring at me.
I pulled my own hoody up over my head, and I was glad I had on my trainer sports bra. Before I began pulling the green hoody on, the secretary spoke to me again.
“I knew it; there is a beautiful swan hiding under that baggy camouflage.” She stood up again and walked around me, nodding and smiling. I sort of froze with the green hoody in one hand while I felt the secretary’s eyes touching every part of my exposed body. The secretary lifted the underwear box and shook it. “You should try some of these on. Sometimes in my lunchbreak I try things on, just to feel a bit daring. It gets very boring in the office all day on my own.”
I wasn’t really sure how to react to her revelation and realised I was still standing in just my bra and jeans. I pulled the hoody on and it was perfect; it also had a front pouch that went all the way across for both hands. “This seems to be the one,” I said lamely.
“I’m not sure what you are up to, Abby, but that was never yours unless your name is Darren Fuego.”
I wasn’t sure how to react or how she knew, so definitely it was not mine.
“The name is written inside the collar.” The secretary smiled as she dropped the bombshell.
“I’m sorry, I thought it was…”
The secretary started to laugh. “You can keep it if you try a few of these on for me.” She was shaking the underwear box towards me again.
I must have looked scared as she added, “I’m not going to tell anyone; let me pick out three of my favourites, and then you can take it. You can keep everything you try on; is that a deal?”
It felt wrong, and at the same time quite naughty and thrilling to be thinking about this in school. I know the secretary is not strictly a teacher, but I’m sure this would be a sacking offence if she got found out. I took a long look at the secretary for the first time; she was probably in her twenties, I guessed. Probably very pretty if she wore makeup. She was wearing what I would have called office clothing, which hid everything from her neck down to below her knees. I nodded in answer to her question.
“I’m Sandra, by the way,” the secretary said as she put the underwear box down and climbed onto a pair of steps and reached up to the very back of the shelf. “These are my favourites.” She brought out a smaller cardboard box and opened it as she stood beside me again.
Inside the box was a small collection of underwear, bras, and knickers. “These are the best ones,” she said, pulling out a white lacy pair. She held them open and stepped into them before pulling them up her legs, raising her sensible skirt as she did. “What do you think?” She held her skirt up to her waist and did a slow twirl. She must have been commando up until that moment. They looked good on her; she was slimmer than I thought, and through the lace I could see a dark patch at the front.
Sandra let go of her skirt and picked up a clump of lace and satin from the box, turning it in her hand before separating out an almost sheer black lace pair. “Try these for me, please.”
I took them in my hand as if in a dream and undid my baggy jeans. I let them fall to the floor, feeling embarrassed at the big, safe cotton panties underneath.
“Oh, they are so cute on you.”
I knew cute was never how I described them; safe and regulation were the terms I would use. I turned my back on Sandra and slid my school regulation panties down and stepped out of them. I quickly pulled up the sheer black lace pair and was thrilled at how they felt on my skin. I saw goose bumps on my skin as I looked down.
“They look beautiful on you; it is a shame there is not a little matching bra.” Sandra held out another pair, this time in black satin. I reluctantly slid the sheer pair down and swapped into the satin pair. They were not so tight on me and didn’t feel as sexy to wear, though Sandra seemed to enjoy the view. “Try these,” she said after a short while, holding out a pink thong. I swapped and pulled the thong up tight. The front was so narrow that I had pubic hair spilling out of the sides, while the rear string disappeared between the cheeks of my bum. “Oh, now they really do suit you,” Sandra said as she ran a finger up both sides of the material, brushing my pubic hair as she did.
Sandra pulled her skirt up, slid the white knickers down and off, and offered them to me. “Try these; they are my favourite ones.” I took the warm material from her and replaced the pink thong without turning around this time. Sandra watched intently and cupped my mound with her hand. Just then someone started knocking on the outer door.
“Sandra, are you in there? I need to get into the records cupboard.”
I did not recognise the voice, but Sandra did. She immediately whispered for me to get dressed. I pulled my jeans on over the white panties and put my own big knickers into my new hoody pocket. Sandra put her secret little box of underwear up the shelf and pushed me out into the office.
“Just coming,” she called. “I turned the key as I was in the lost property cupboard.”
I stood holding my own hoody as the deputy head strode into the office the instant Sandra unlocked the outer door.
“Thank you for finding my hoody; thank you for your help,” I said as I made my way out of the office. Behind the deputy head, Sandra gave me a wide smile and winked. I promised myself that I would be making regular visits to the school office and hoped there would be a lot more fun than just dressing up. It made me tingle to think I was wearing a sexy, lacy pair of knickers that moments ago Sandra had been wearing. I also wondered how many other staff were wandering around the school commando under their outwardly conservative clothes.
I made a bee line for the toilets and changed back into my own hoody. I left the white knickers on. I noticed there was no name written inside the green hoody; Sandra was bluffing and knew I was not being honest. I took the hoody home that evening and hid it in my wardrobe. I put the pack of condoms Stacey had bought, the mask, and the tokens in the front pouch to keep it all together.
The next day, I went to the school office during morning break to find a different woman behind the counter. She told me that Mrs. White, the secretary, only works Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She asked if I needed anything, and I said I just wanted to thank her for helping me find something. She asked for my name and wrote it down, saying she would leave a message. In my pocket, I had the white lace knickers and knew I should hang on to them until I met Sandra in person.
Tomorrow was Wednesday, my afternoon of study periods, when I planned to be back in the adult store down Western Avenue. I had a quick look through the laundry basket in the family bathroom and selected a nice pair of red satin French knickers, which I hid in my green hoody. I also sent a message to the adult store guy to say I was hoping to be there Wednesday afternoon. He messaged back almost immediately.
Wednesday morning seemed to drag badly. I dropped into the school office during the morning break and handed the white knickers over. I had thought about wearing them to the adult store but did not want to upset Sandra. Sandra seemed overly happy to see me and asked if I would be coming back at lunchtime. I told her I had things to do and would not be able to make it today, but that I did want to have a look at the lost property soon. It felt like a secret code when I said it and gave me a secret thrill. “If you are here Friday?” I half asked and half promised as I left.
As soon as lunchtime came, I ducked out of school and skated home as fast as I could. I changed into the green hoody and the red satin knickers under my jeans. I put my regulation school panties into my pocket and set off on foot, catching a bus down to Western Avenue. I walked the last few hundred yards with my head bent forward under the hoody. No one was going to recognise me today.
The guy behind the counter greeted me like a real friend, and although there were a few people in the store, I felt bold enough to ask about the cubicles downstairs. I told him which ones I had been in and how the holes were different. He told me the stalls, as he called them, were narrower on the other side of the corridor. I asked why, and he said to be able to connect with the strangers on each side at the same time. He also said the end stall on both sides had extra holes to…