How did I miss this post?
My face is red FF, sorry. To make up for it I'll post a couple of very long winded stories about my experiences with two grade school teachers. Here goes:
It was 1979, I was in 6th grade, and her name was Patricia. She was very pretty, in her mid to late 20s and had just replaced the rather uptight teacher we'd had up to that point. Short, with dark hair, she always wore pantyhose and high heels. This was the beginning of the 1980's, a truly wonderful time for women's fashions!
Anyway, Patricia had this pair of brown, open-toed slingbacks that she would wear from time to time. I was already hooked on this type of shoe from the famous Three's Company episode. Patricia never did anything with them until one day...
We were taking some sort of test, and I'd finished long before the cutoff time. I was sitting about ten feet in front of Patricia's desk, and I could just see underneath it. I saw her moving her feet around (I always looked), and then they disappeared.
A few seconds later her empty slingbacks hit the carpeted floor just in my view. Instantly I had a lump of excitement in my throat and my pants. This was too good to be true. I just HAD to figure out a way to see her feet.
So, being the good little student I was, I got up and started cleaning up the classroom. I was picking up paper on the floor, straightening books, etc. Moving around the front of her desk on hands and knees picking up paper, I looked under the desk and saw that one of her empty slingbacks was lying crooked against the other.
I took a chance and reached under the desk, slowly moving her shoe so that it stood upright. I thought she might see me do this somehow and put her foot on my hand to stop me. Unfortunately it didn't happen.
In a few minutes time I'd maneuvered myself behind Patricia's desk. She had her small pantyhosed feet pulled up under her chair and crossed at the ankles. As a result, I could see her smooth nyloned soles. Picking up the odd bits of paper around her desk, I made sure to "accidentally on purpose", brush my fingers against her feet. She made no effort to move away. I did this a couple of times before whispering an apology to her.
I wasn't really sincere in this, I was just trying to get her attention. She thanked me for cleaning up the classroom and asked me jokingly not to tell on her since she had her shoes off.
If I knew then what I know now, I'd have told her the only way to keep me quiet was for her to put her foot in my mouth! Ha! Well, I suppose I'd have had a 50-50 chance of being expelled or really becoming the Teacher's Pet. She liked me anyway since I was into science (which was her specialty) and an A student. So maybe I had a better chance than I thought? Oh well, I'll never know.
The next year I managed to get one of the teachers to let me look at and hold her high heel. Her name was Susie, and she was a fourth grade teacher. A new hire like Patricia, she was in her mid to late 20s. Unlike Patricia, Susie was, as they say, "smokin' hot", and I think she knew it (on the 10 scale, Patricia was a 7, Susie was a 9). A dress, nylons and heels were her standard outfit. She had a dazzling smile and a body to match.
Here's what happened: each day a teacher would perform lunch monitor duties: one inside the cafeteria and one outside watching the field (we were in 7th grade now so we didn't call it a playground anymore, it was a "field", ha ha).
When Susie would have duty as the field monitor (once every few weeks) she'd sit near the buildings in the shade, somewhat isolated from everything and everyone. I'd see her cross her legs and dangle whatever high heel she wore that day (she always wore pumps, slingbacks or mules). With her skirt invariably hiked up from her leg cross, it was truly a wonderful sight for a budding adolescent like myself.
For a couple of weeks I racked my brains for a way to approach her. Even at that age I knew that liking a beautiful woman's legs, feet and high heels wasn't an accepted practice, and that I'd have to indulge myself though subterfuge.
So I finally came up with a plan for the next time she had lunch monitor duty. I got a basketball and let it roll over towards her from an angle she couldn't easily see. It looked like I was using one of the goals behind her and that the ball had gotten away from me on a rebound.
I said hello to her, made a bit of small talk (as much as a 7th grader can make with a 20something teacher: ("So babe how about that Dow Jones huh? Stocks are really rebounding now that Carter's almost out of office eh?"). Ha ha.
Well, I pointed to her dangling mule. It was blue, leather and had a flower design over the vamp. "Miss Susie those nice shoes, but the heels are really high. How can you walk in those things?" This line has become standard for me ever since when I want to turn the conversation to a woman's legs/feet.
To my surprise she plucked the mule off of her painted nyloned toes and handed it to me. She pointed out the flat bottom and how the weight was on the ball of her foot. So there I was, holding her high heel, my thumb on the still slightly warm sole (I'll never forget that) and her bare stockinged foot on display for me.
I tried not to stammer as I thanked her and put the mule back on her foot, making sure that I again "accidentally on purpose" brushed my fingers against her red toes. I also made sure the mule was dangling, and she made no effort to correct this.
I had to get out of there quick because I was very excited. The basketball I held in my other hand covered said excitement. The school year ended a few weeks later and I wasn't able to do anything else.
I did see Susie that summer though at our church (I went to a school run by one church, while we attended another church across town). She was wearing a black dress, nylons and was dangling one of the slingback high heels she wore. I was with my parents and we didn't sit with her, just walked by the pew. I made eye contact with her, I don't think she recognized me, but I did get a smile.
I'd never seen her at our church before, and since she was alone I hatched a new plan. The next week I convinced my mom to let me go to mass by myself, hoping Susie would be there. But alas she wasn't.
I don't know what I would have done had she been there, but I'm sure my devious young mind would have come up with something ("Let's have lunch after mass babe. Oops, I dropped my napkin under the table, oops I dropped my fork, oops I dropped the salt shaker", something along those lines maybe. I was pretty optimistic huh?).
Unfortunately I never saw Susie again. Rumor had it that she was fired at the end of the last school year because she'd used corporal punishment on a misbehaving boy. (Fem Domme tendencies perhaps? YUM!)
Too bad, she was quite inspirational to my young fetish lust. One of the many things I thought about over that summer was how I could talk my 8th grade teacher into letting me "help ou" the teachers of the lower grades for a few hours a day. And you know which teacher I wanted to help out right? Yes, I was becoming quite the dirty young man.
Oh well, that's my teacher story. Enjoy the attachements.
DP