The style of a school’s gym pants gets a girl into difficulty

by Katie Hammond

In December 1983, Reginald Hampton opened a letter that, although expected, nevertheless delighted him. Mr Hampton was the regional manager for a major British bank based in Manchester. He had lived for over thirty years in the so-called stockbroker belt south of Manchester and, although highly paid, it paled into insignificance against some of the actual stockbrokers and other high earners that were his neighbours and acquaintances.

The letter offered him the job of deputy chairman of the bank, based in London. The remuneration was commensurate with this executive position that put him very nearly at the top of the pile. Although he was absolutely thrilled with the promotion, he was a family man and had a wife and two daughters to consider. His wife, Helen, knew of the potential move months ago and although not entirely happy about the move was willing to go along with it as Reginald, or Reg as she mostly called him, had deserved it for the many years of hard work climbing the ladder at the bank, and of course she knew that the extra money he would earn would almost immediately end up in her purse.

They had twin girls and, of course, the move would be harder for them. For twins, they didn’t really look alike; Rachel was mid height with blonde hair that was usually permed and green eyes with a slim to medium build. She was laid back, fun and easy going. Melanie was slightly taller with a darker completion and of medium build; her personality was more introverted and serious, but she did have fun and enjoyed the company of other more mature girls of her age. Both were bright and would turn eighteen in August of the following year. The move to London was planned to take place in October of 1984 so their final year at school would be in a totally new environment before sitting the A level examinations in June of 1985. Before breaking the news to the girls, both Reginald and Helen agreed that if the girls were so upset about it they would either not move and he would stay in his current position or he would rent a flat in London during the week and return north at the weekends, which in his and Helen’s eyes was far from ideal. Thankfully, both girls took it in their stride and agreed with the move. Perhaps it was the promise of the bright lights and glamour of London that eased the decision for them, their parents thought, although neither of the girls had said it both planned to return to Manchester following their A levels.

Having turned eighteen a few months previously, the long awaited move happened. If they were looking forward to the bright lights and excitement of London, they may well have been disappointed at the final destination; a small town that masqueraded as a village on the western extremity of the London metropolis. A very nice place none the less, but rather traditional and parochial, which is how many of the residents liked it. The girls enrolled at the local school, Pepys, and integrated quickly and easily. However, the first few weeks were a bit of a culture shock. Pepys had always been a boy’s school until it was forced to accept girls ten years ago when the local girl’s school got flooded. The temporary arrangement turned permanent when the girl’s school had to be demolished. It was a stuffy environment where under the surface and indeed sometimes more overtly the girls had to play second fiddle to the boys, the boys school seemly resentful of having to accept girls. It was almost two schools operating in the same building. However, the same high standards, albeit in slightly different ways, were expected from both girls and boys, and academic achievement from both sexes was excellent.

On the Saturday before they started school, Mrs Hampton went to the local school outfitters in the nearby town and purchased the hugely overpriced school uniforms that made even the moneyed Mrs Hampton wince. She pulled the clothes out of the shopping bag and started laying them on Rachel’s bed; the bottle green blazer and skirt, and white blouses.

‘At least the uniforms are not too bad,’ thought Mrs Hampson.

The skirt was surprisingly tight fitting for what was reputed to be a traditional school. However, she still thought it strange that 18 year olds were required to wear school uniform. At their old school in Cheshire you could wear your own clothes in the 6th form. She then unpacked the gym kit; yellow jumper and yellow collared t-shirt with a green skirt.

‘Fine,’ she thought, before then noticing another item at the bottom of the bag.

It was a green pair of pants. It took her a few seconds to work it out. Ah yes, to wear under the skirt. That would explain why they are so skimpy. You couldn’t wear those by themselves. Mrs Hampton’s mind went back to the 1950s for a few moments as she recalled her own school days. She wore the ‘bloomers’ for gym but they were so big, these were so small.

‘Anyway, they’ve both got less than a year to do. They will just have to get on with it,’ she thought.

Mrs Hampton then put Melanie’s uniform on her bed and continued with the day’s chores. Mr Hampton took his girls up to London to see an afternoon show and to see some of the sights. They both came back happy and excited. They were both puzzled by the slightly strange gym uniform on their respective beds.

‘Playing netball and rounders in skirts went out of fashion when Mum was at school,’ thought Rachel. ‘How weird is that?’ She laughed to herself.

Melanie took it more seriously and just didn’t like the idea of doing sports in a skirt.

After the culture shock, and getting used to a new place, both the girls performed well in class and easily made friends. Mr and Mrs Hampton were very pleased at how easy the move had been, given the potential problems. However, one afternoon in early December, a game of 6th form girls’ rounders was played on the sports pitch within the school boundary and not visible from the road. Before leaving the changing room the teacher asked the girls to remove their skirts, which they did, seemingly without any issues. Melanie, however, was horrified and was close to refusing to do so, but couldn’t muster the courage to refuse.

During the game, Melanie did forget about it a bit as she got involved and played well, but at the end the feelings of anger and bewilderment returned. She asked one of the other girls about it and she replied: “It’s normal.” Melanie couldn’t believe it. As Melanie walked down the steps from the sports pitch to the car park, she spotted her sister who was chatting to her friends during a break. Rachel smiled as Melanie jogged towards her.

“Rach, not one word to Mum about this, ok?”

“Sure,” replied Rachel, knowing exactly what was upsetting Mel.

Unbeknown to Melanie, Rachel already knew of this policy. A few weeks previously, some of the 6th form girls had gone over to the local sports stadium which the school occasionally used. It was just under a mile away and involved jogging up a residential street, through a park alley way and then over a footbridge which spanned a double dual carriageway, and then a further half mile through fields or along a main road to the sports facilities.

There were three classes that day and the teacher of one of classes asked the girls to remove their skirts. The other two classes had the option and Rachel was surprised at the numbers of girls who voluntarily went ‘sans skirt’. Rachel didn’t, but could see the logic of leaving the skirt behind. You have to run to the sports track, run and then run back. You didn’t wear your skirt to run around the sports track, so why bother putting it on in the first place, only to take if off and put it back on again  just for the sake of a mile. That was Rachel’s personality, carefree and easy going but still a girl with high standards. As Rachel walked home that night, she guessed Mel was going through hell. She wouldn’t have worried nearly as much about it.

Rachel was true to her word and nothing was mentioned about the rounders game.

As 1984 turned into 1985, both girls had achieved excellent mock A level results and Mrs Hampton decided to treat the girls. Rachel wanted a pair of the latest white Nike trainers, which were of course expensive, but Mrs Hampton didn’t mind. These trainers were instrumental in the incident which took place just a few weeks later.

It was a dark overcast end of January afternoon, but mild for the time of year. The whole girls’ 6th form and one boys’ class was scheduled to go to the sports stadium. An early lunch was taken in order to get there and back before dusk turned into dark. Classes had allocated slots to use the changing rooms and Rachel’s class was last. When she arrived in the changing rooms, there were the immediate commands of ‘hurry up, hurry up’, ‘you’re already late’, and ‘get your act together girls’. It was to Rachel like being in the military, prison or strict boarding school. Pepys was meant to be none of these.

She quickly took her jacket, blouse and skirt off, and put them in a metal carrier hanger. She grabbed her t-shirt and jumper and put her gym socks on.

“Hurry up, Hampton,” came the call from one of the teachers and she realised she was one of the last remaining pupils. She watched the girls file out of the changing room and saw that about a third had decided to not wear a skirt. She pulled her gym knickers on and looked around. She was the last one. She took one look at her gym skirt at the bottom of the bag and thought: ‘Sod it.’ She stood up and left the changing room.

Jogging slowly through the car park to the school exit that led onto Beatty Road, she felt weird and, admittedly, a bit sexy. Reaching the road, she bore left and picked up the pace as she climbed the hilly residential road lined by four and five bedroom houses. As she passed other girls, especially ones that were wearing skirts, she wondered what they were thinking as her rather firm bottom bounced slightly in front of them. A car with two old couples in it were stunned to see what she was wearing as the four sets of eyes left the road for probably longer than was safe.

Rachel smiled to herself. Who could blame them really. On a beach in Spain in the summer; no problem. Mid-January in a suburban British street; no way!

She had made progress and passed so many people that she wasn’t going to be anywhere near last. She got to near the top of the road and turned left into the park alley as she passed Gina England, a tall blond haired girl who she had never really spoken to. Gina was a prefect and wore the green armband signifying this. Prefects could always keep their skirts on, so Rachel was surprised that Gina wasn’t wearing hers.

As Rachel entered the alleyway, she could see two lads in front of her. One of them was Dean Walker, who she quite fancied. As she got nearer to them, she looked down at her feet and her heart sank. Her band new white Nike’s were going to get covered in mud due the heavy rain in the last two days on a 100 foot section of yet un-tarmacked pathway.

Rachel picked up some speed and as soon as she could said: “Excuse me, lads,” loudly but without shouting.

They stopped and turned around, seemingly very surprised. They hadn’t reached the mud yet and waited for Rachel to reach them.

She smiled at them and said: “You couldn’t do me a favour, please guys, and carry me over the mud? I don’t want to muck these trainers up.”

They both smiled and Dean Walker replied: “No problem.”

They both stood either side of her, put their arms around the top of her back and then lifted each leg just above the knee. Rachel then put her arm around each boy’s neck. It probably was more easily said than done as the boy’s battled to keep their feet. Again Rachel started feeling sexy. One of the girls in a group ahead of her turned around and gave her a dirty look. Rachel just smiled back at the girl as the distance between her legs increased as the boys struggled on in the mud. Finally they arrived at the tarmac, all relieved that there were no embarrassing falls. They slowly let Rachel down onto her feet and, quite by accident as her bottom came into contact with the lad to her right, her knickers rose up exposing nearly all of her right buttock.

Her instant and instinctive reaction was to rectify the situation immediately, but another thought quickly flashed through her mind. She would give the lovely Dean Walker and his friend a playful eyeful and, after thanking them, started jogging really slowly, knowingly giving them as long a treat as possible. After nearly a minute, she reached the other girls and put her index finger quickly inside her briefs to sort the problem out before she reached them.

As she passed the girls, she heard one of them say to another: “What a slapper!”

Rachel didn’t know why the girl said it as they hadn’t seen her bum flash.

Suddenly a voice cried out: “Kayleigh! Stop her! Stop her! That one, that one!”

Rachel turned around and could see Gina England had been catching up with her and was now pointing to her. Kayleigh Lynch, who was tall, tough and one of the ‘top girls’ that every girl was scared of, looked at Rachel and said: “Go back to her.” Rachel wasn’t going to argue.

“Come back with me,” said Gina.

“What’s the problem?” Asked Rachel.

“You will find out soon enough,” came the blunt reply.

Sadly for Rachel, Gina did not offer a lift to spare her new white trainers and they got very muddy. The remainder of the journey, this time down the hill of Beatty Road, was silent and all those emotions of being slightly daring and sexy had disappeared, not to mention the slight anger about her trainers. They arrived back at the school and walked to the reception desk.

“I’d like to put this young lady on report,” said Gina commandingly to the receptionist, and slightly patronisingly to Rachel.

The lady nodded and said: “One moment.”

Within a few minutes, Mrs Palconici arrived, wearing a brown floral dress. Looking at them both, she said: “Follow me.”

She opened the door to the discipline room and sat down at a desk. Both girls remained standing.

Rachel looked at Mrs Palconici, who must have married young. She was only in her mid-twenties but had a reputation of being a bit falsely prim and proper. She had shoulder length dark hair and brown eyes, with a fresh completion. Rachel was sure her maiden name must also be Italian. The young teacher nodded her head at Gina who took the cue to speak.

“Miss, I want to put this young lady on report for breaking rule 34 and, erm, flashing her bottom.”

“Flashing her bottom?” Questioned Mrs Palconici.

Gina then relayed the story of the wardrobe malfunction and Rachel’s obvious decision not to rectify it.

Rule 34 was a bizarre rule introduced shortly after the school accepted girls. Girls were not allowed to speak to boys unless a boy had spoken to them first. The rationale behind this decision was boys were becoming distracted by the girls and should not interact with them during school time. School trips, break times and lunch times and some specified lessons were fine. Rachel had signed the school rules so she knew of this rule, but explained that she didn’t want get her trainers muddy.

It didn’t cut much ice with Mrs Palconici, but she did say: “Ok Rachel, I can take your point, but when you do these types of things you just need to be more careful you don’t get caught, because if you do you know what happens, don’t you?”

This response surprised both Rachel and Gina.

“Yes Miss,” replied Rachel softy, for the first time showing some nerves.

Mrs Palconici continued. “However, I’m more concerned with such unlady-like behaviour as flashing your bum at the boys, especially in a public place. You have the reputation of Pepys school to think about. Have you got anything to say about the matter, Rachel?”

“No Miss. I’m very sorry Miss,” was Rachel’s meek reply.

Mrs Palconici stood up and looked for the key to the cane cabinet. She searched high and low and found it wasn’t in the drawer where it should have been. She walked out the room and said: “Two minutes.”

Rachel now knew she was going to get caned and any delay was like torture. Ten minutes later, Mrs Palconici arrived back with the caretaker, saying to Tina: “Mrs Dodds has a key but she’s at a NUT conference in Brighton today.”

The caretaker looked around and said: “I could have sworn they were there yesterday. I ticked them off as present.”

While the caretaker continued his search, Mrs Palconici asked Gina how her mum was. Obviously they were friends and Rachel now guessed how Gina England had got the job of prefect. Normally, the most attractive girls were made prefects but, although Gina was not that bad looking, she was no ‘Miss England’.

The caretaker walked out shaking his head.

“Right time, is marching on and we need to get this done.” Mrs Palconici said. “Having been unable to locate the key to the implements cupboard, I now intend to change the punishment to ten hand spanks on your bare bottom.”

“Oh god, please Miss, no,” pleaded Rachel.

Mrs Palconici smiled and said: “Well, you didn’t have any problem showing your bottom off earlier today, Miss Hampton, did you?”

“No Miss,” replied a resigned Rachel, while Gina looked at her and smiled.

“I need a witness and I want Miss England to do that, unless you object, Rachel. If you do, then I will have to call a receptionist.”

Rachel’s mum knew one of the support staff at the school so Rachel didn’t want to risk the huge embarrassment she would feel if that person witnessed her punishment, so she simply said: “That’s fine.”

“Ok, take your gym knickers and pants off and give them to Miss England,” said Mrs Palconici.

Without a word, Rachel took the green gym knickers off and gave them to Gina, who put them on the desk behind her. Rachel looked into Mrs Palconici’s eyes. There was a brief nod and Rachel removed her white knickers, again gave them to Gina, who placed them on the desk. Rachel quickly looked at both pairs and noted that her gym knickers were actually smaller than her normal knickers which were themselves fairly skimpy.

‘What a cheek to say I’m flashing my bum when the uniform knickers don’t even cover everything normal knickers do!’ Rachel thought, but had the good sense not to protest. Of course, she had flashed her bum, so she couldn’t have any arguments about that.

In front of the desk, away from the table and door, was a medical bed made of black plastic material with a pillow at one end and a disposable light green disposable medical sheet laying on it.

“Mount the table, please Miss Hampton,” ordered Mrs Palconici.

“Do you want me to take my trainers and socks off, Miss?” Responded Rachel.

“No, we wouldn’t want to part you from you lovely new trainers, would we? Now Rachel, up you get but keep your trainers over the edge of the bed,” said Mrs Palconici.

Rachel smiled and climbed on, laying herself face down as she presumed that would be how the teacher would want her. She adjusted herself so her trainers did not touch the bed. Tina moved the pillow down to meet Rachel’s head. After adjusting herself on the bed for twenty seconds or so, Rachel finally stayed still and looked up at Mrs Palconici, waited for a moment of silence, and said: “Yes Miss.”

Mrs Palconici put the delayed acknowledgement to her last command to forgetfulness, but actually it was as much to do with Rachel now loving every moment of this, so far.

As Mrs Palconici and Gina England looked down at her tight white bottom, Rachel was loving the experience of baring her full bottom. The fact that it was two women looking at her made it a bit weird, but somehow more erotic. Mrs Piconici diverted her gaze from Rachel’s bottom.

“Right, Miss Hampton, I am going to give you ten spanks but after I have warmed your bottom up with some lighter taps. As soon as your bottom is sufficiently smarting from these taps, I will commence the ten harder spanks without interval. Miss England, please would you assist me by counting each of the ten spanks?”

“Yes, Mrs Piconici,” replied Gina England.

“Yes Miss,” replied Rachel Hampton.

Left buttock, SLAP, right buttock, SLAP, left buttock, SLAP, right buttock, SLAP. Miss Palconici got straight into the rhythm and continued.

Rachel closed her eyes and swallowed despite, or rather because of, the now tingling sensation on her buttocks. She let out a very light: “Urrgh.”

What she wanted to say was: “Yes!”

Mrs Palconici ignored the groan but smiled to herself as she looked down at the now slightly rose tinted pair of buttocks. She was ready.

Mrs Piconici raised her right hand and SMACKED it right across the middle of Rachel buttocks two thirds of the way down. Although not hard, it took Rachel by surprise and she breathed in heavily. Gina announced the first spank in exactly the same voice as she would the other nine.

The next spank was executed in the same manner, although this time it was harder. The loud SMACK could be heard as both of Rachel’s buttocks bounced on contact with Mrs Piconici’s right hand. Rachel drew in breath again and clenched her fists.

The third spank was a repeat of the first two, but harder. Rachel let out an: “Aaaaarrgghh,” as the teacher’s hand SMASHED against her firm bottom. She then slightly adjusted her position, buried her head in the pillow and closed her eyes.

The fourth SPANK landed on her left buttock as more of a SLAP. Although hand spankings were far less painful than a cane, Mrs Palconici didn’t want to smack Rachel too hard. She liked her, and she was pretty much an adult.

Surprised the location and strength of spanking had changed, Rachel opened her eyes and smiled slightly. This wasn’t nearly half as bad as what she had expected, and if the hardness didn’t go up too much again, she would really enjoy this.

The fifth SPANK landed on her right buttock, harder than the fourth, but not enough to be very painful. Any pain already experienced by Rachel had already turned into pleasure as she was experiencing an early endorphin release.

Mrs Piconici glanced down at the 18 year old bottom and decided that she would have to take it up a notch again, but she paused to ask the Rachel how she was after informing her she was half way there. She realised seconds later that Gina counting might have given her a clue.

Rachel turned her head and said: “I’m fine, thanks Miss. I’m so sorry I flashed today and I deserve to be disciplined for letting myself and the school down.”

Mrs Piconici and Gina England looked at each other, slightly bemused by Rachel’s reply.

The sixth SPANK slapped down on her left buttock and Rachel let out an involuntary: “Oh Ouch,” before drawing breath through clenched teeth. She realised the spankings were getting harder again.

The seventh SPANK crashed down right across her bottom, but slightly higher. Rachel immediately let out a pained: “Aggggrrrhhh! Please Miss!”

Rachel could hear voices in the corridor now and realised that some of the classes had finished for the day. In front of her, there was a huge window. Thankfully, the venetian blinds were pulled and she couldn’t see out, but the lights were on and she wondered if anyone could see anything.

The eighth SPANK crashed down lower on Rachel’s derriere as she tried to lift her right hand up to protect her bum. “Arrrggg! God, no more Miss, please Miss.” Although the pain quickly went, her bottom was by now a little sore. Rachel closed her eyes. thankfu the ordeal was nearly over.

The ninth SMACK landed on her left buttock but was lighter than the previous one. Rachel was just praying that Mrs Piconici wasn’t going to make some kind of statement for the last one.

Then, all of a sudden, the door opened and two girls screeched with surprise and embarrassment before saying sorry and running off in fits of giggles.

Gina walked to the door and turned the handle to lock it.

“I’m sorry, I should have done that before,” she said to Mrs Palconici before looking at Rachel and saying: “Really sorry about that, Rachel.”

Rachel was surprised by the apology and said: “No problem.”

Gina, by now, actually quite liked Rachel. She hadn’t really known her before, just thinking she was a bit snooty, but she was wrong. She now regretted pulling her up earlier for speaking to those two boys and just would have told her to adjust her knickers before she got into any trouble. It was done now, but she had already decided to apologise to Rachel again sometime in the future.

The tenth and final SMACK landed on Rachel’s right buttock with force and Rachel let out an: “Oouuuuucchhh! Miss, that hurt!” She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth, fists and buttocks all at the same time. After a few seconds the pain dissipated and Rachel decided this was a bitter sweet experience. It could have turned into some fun, but on the other hand it could have been so much worse.

“Right, that’s it. Rachel, on your feet,” commanded Mrs Piconici.

Rachel slowly got off the bed with Gina’s assistance, and then Gina gave Rachel’s knickers back to her.

As she started putting them back, on Mrs Piconici continued: “I’m sorry this had to be done, Rachel, but, believe you me, you got off really lightly today. If Mrs Dodd had caned you, you wouldn’t be putting those knickers back on now. Go back to the changing rooms, get changed and go straight home, but remember to pick up a letter for you parents to read tonight on your way out. Ok?”

“Thank you, Miss,” replied Rachel.

Gina spoke just as Rachel started to make for the door. “Rachel, for me you will write five hundred lines of ‘I will not flash my buttocks to the boys in future’. Hand them into me tomorrow morning. Understand?” Although Gina had decided she liked Rachel, this was one power trip she couldn’t resist.

“Yes, Gina,” replied Rachel very respectfully.

Rachel opened the door and joined the corridor full of pupils leaving the building, acutely aware she wasn’t wearing a skirt. She called into the reception and picked up the waiting brown envelope marked ‘Mr and Mrs Reginald Hampton, 44 Manor Road South’. She went to the changing room and then left the building. Tonight wouldn’t be easy as she made her way to the front door.

She handed her Mum the letter and went upstairs and changed. It was about twenty minutes before she was called down for dinner. Rachel was glad her Dad wasn’t on business or late that day, even though the matter was very embarrassing. He was a calming influence on her sometimes volatile mother.

About five minutes into their roast lamb dinner, Mrs Hampton raised the subject.

“So you got in trouble today, Rachel, didn’t you?”

Rachel then ran through the day’s events, but skipped out the bum flashing part, telling her it was an accident. Mrs Hampton wasn’t worried about the speaking to boys part; that rule was absolutely ridiculous, she thought. No, it was the bottom flashing bit she wanted to get to the bottom of.

“So how on earth do you manage to flash your bottom accidentally, Rachel?” Her mum asked.

Rachel paused and Melanie jumped in, wanting to help her sister. “Mum, it’s not Rachel’s fault. They sometimes make us wear those short shorts without a skirt.” “They’re not short shorts, Melanie, they are knickers and small ones at that. Surely to god you don’t go around in just them, and on a public road?”

Rachel cut in. “Yes, mum, we do. In fact, today we had a choice, but I chose not to.”

“Really, Rachel?” Said her mother. “Reginald! Say something.” She added as Rachel’s dad forked the last Brussel Sprout into his mouth.

Rachel then told her mum about the lift from the lads and the clothing accident and then wanting to give them a bit of an eyeful.

“Disgusting,” said Mrs Hampton before storming off in one of her moods.

Melanie was the next to leave, giving her sister a pat on the shoulder in support as she left the table.

Her dad finally came out of this voluntary silence. “Sorry about mum, Rachel, she forgets how old you are. What happened today was completely natural for a young woman. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Keep working hard, darling.”

“Yes dad, I will,” came Rachel’s reply.

She was true to her word and left Pepys with 7 A levels, a huge achievement. Melanie did well too and both girls ended up at Oxford. Melanie then moved to New Zealand with a graduate she met at Oxford. Rachel moved back to the West London suburb and got a good job. Her parents also remained in the area after retirement.

About ten years after Rachel left Pepys, a friend of hers came around one Saturday afternoon. The conversation soon turned to Pepys school as the friend’s 18 year old daughter had just started there for the final year.

“What sort of thing did you wear for gym?” Her friend, Polly, asked.

Rachel slightly embarrassingly told her the truth and was surprised to hear that the same kit was still being worn. Rachel thought it old fashioned in 1985 let alone ten years later, and then remarked: “Well, I’m gobsmacked that they are still wearing that. It must be the only school left in the country that makes girls run around in knickers, although if there was one school that did hang on to that until the very end it would be Pepys. It’s so old school.”

Polly replied: “It’s probably not as old school as you think.”

“Why?” Asked an inquisitive Rachel.

“Did you know Mrs Palconici when you were there?” Said Polly.

“Yes, I remember her,” said Rachel, who was not going to mention that she remembers that January 1985 spanking like it was yesterday.

“She got chucked out six months ago for having an affair with a parent,” said Polly somewhat gleefully.

Rachel smiled. This was interesting. “So do they know who he was the parent of?” She asked.

Polly laughed and said: “He? Don’t you mean she?”

“Oh my god,” was all a stunned Rachel could think to say.

“Yes, it was Linda England. She had a daughter at the school. Gina, I think her name is. The affair had been going on for years. They are now running a bar in Greece, in Lesbos, as a matter of fact,” stated Polly.

“Jesus Christ!” Was Rachel’s response before she burst out laughing, but she wasn’t going to say anything about the spanking or the fact she had known Gina, albeit briefly. Rachel had always wondered if the key to the cane was really missing and today’s news only added to the feeling that Mrs Palconici fancied a bit of skin on skin action.

While Rachel was letting that sink in, Polly asked: “Do you still have your gym kit, Rachel?”

“Er, yes, I think I do. I remember throwing some stuff out, but not that. It’s been ten years, so I could be wrong. I’ve got so much stuff up there that needs sorting out. It’s a bit embarrassing really.”

Polly laughed and said: “Go on, have a look and see if you’ve got it still.”

“Ok,” replied Rachel, and she got up and walked up the stairs.

She went to an old wardrobe and after a ten minute hunt finally found the old gym kit. The yellow jumper and t-shirt, green skirt and those legendary knickers folded neatly at the bottom of a black bin liner. She pulled them out and, once in her hands, stopped. Should she tell Polly she had found them? She made her decision in a second and rushed down the stairs with them in her hands.

“Got them!” She announced to her friend, smiling.

A beaming Polly asked: “Great, go on, put them on, pretty please.”

What happened next is another story.

The End

© Katie Hammond 2017