'Bob-a-Job, sir?'

Eleanor, Jenny and Fenella slowly, unhappily bent over, slipped their knickers down over their bottoms, down their legs, and off entirely. Mark Swordsman scooped the knickers up, swept a courtly bow to the three mortified strippers, and handed them to the auctioneer.

“Thank you, ladies” croaked Mr Shaft. In his excitement, he was barely able to make speaking noises. “That’s most satisfactory! Please mingle with the chaps, while I ... errr ... document your payment.

The three naked women didn’t seem at all keen to ‘mingle’. Instead they huddled together miserably, while Mr Shaft gravely made an entry in some ledger or other. (Probably his football pools.)

The nude teachers looked very wistfully at their knickers, as Mr Shaft put them on the table, on top of their other clothes. So near, and yet so far!

But then, as if reading their minds, Mark Swordsman grabbed the clothes and stuffed them into a wall safe. CLANG! He swung the safe door shut. The noise struck a chill to their fannies.

“Right then, that’s the time lock on!” said Swordsman.

“Time lock? Till when?” quavered Eleanor.

“Seven o’clock tomorrow morning! Tomorrow’s Sunday, isn’t it, so I thought we could all make a night of it!! This suite has got bedrooms, as (heh! heh!) your colleague Dr McGrott has discovered. Mind you, there aren’t enough beds to go round, so we’ll probably need to (heh! heh!) pair up!”

Seven o’clock tomorrow morning! But it was only 10 pm now! NINE MORE HOURS in the nude!

It was an appalling prospect. And yet, so indomitable is the human spirit, that our three heroines did start to come to terms with the situation. All three of them felt a tiny little thrill. Who knows, there just might be some compensations...

After all, there was no point in trying to cover up your boobs, butt and pussy for nine hours. So the bare-assed trio let their arms fall to their sides and they squared their shoulders. There was a slight sucking in of tummies, puffing out of chests and inching apart of feet. Well, if you’re at the gates of hell, you might as well look good.

There was a short silence, while the men smacked their lips over the naked women, and the red-faced women tried to look nonchalant.

Through the adjoining wall, there came a rough, wet, scraping noise. It sounded like a great big Moldovan tongue licking a sticky ginger thatch. Then a harsh little female voice cried out in a kind of orgasmic sing-song:

“AH! AHH!! AAAHHHHH!!!*!!”

“UH! UHH!! UUUUHHHH!!*!!!”

“YURR! YUURRRR!! YURROOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!!*!!@!!”

Was that English, or was it Romanian? Fenella, Eleanor and Jenny thought “Virginia’s having a good time! Why can’t we?”

In the meantime, Jim Shaft and Mark Swordsman were conferring. They too had heard the party sounds from next door.

“Listen, Swordsman”, said Mr Shaft, “we need to change our approach. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s all going unbelievably well so far. But the stakes have risen.”

“There’s a big economic factor, you see. They’ve just discovered natural gas under Punk. It could become the boom town of Eastern Europe. ‘Mayor’ Jizz is the key guy in the region. Well, he’s not really a properly elected Mayor – he’s just the strongest gang leader in town, but look at him – you wouldn’t want to challenge him on the bloody hustings, would you!”

“So we’ve got this incredible stroke of luck – that in some dusty old pan-European local government accord, Humpton is twinned with Punk. So we get the Mayor over here, to impress him with Humpton know-how and glamour.”

“And what happens? He hates the Morris dancers. He turns up his nose at our haute cuisine, and goes off looking for roadkill. We try him out with the choicest hookers in town – Sharon Spreddam, for God’s sake, and he says she’s got no personality! He gives the impression that we’re the most boring bunch of bloody wimps he’s ever met. And he brings forward his flight, to go back tomorrow. Total disaster.”

“But then he meets that crazy little witch, McGrott, and she stops him dead! Just listen to that row next door!”

“Look here, Mark, my considered opinion, as the commercial and business leader of this town, is that Dr Virginia McGrott is Humpton-on-Thames’s biggest asset. And Humpton Girls School is therefore our most valuable institution. Right?”

“Now, I know that you’ve got a few scores to settle with Dr Twatte. But we don’t want to slaughter her, do we? Personally, when I look at Dr Twatte, I feel like making Love, not War.”

“And I know your young assistant Curtis has blotted his copybook with Jenny Pratt, and would do anything to get back between her legs. And do I or don’t I see a soft, romantic gleam in your eye whenever Fenella Blowett’s lovely bare body comes near?”

“So let’s be a bit more positive now. You’ve taken Dr Twatte down a peg. Let’s give the school our support; let’s help these poor bare naked ladies through the night; the town prospers; and WE ALL GET LAID!!”

Swordsman had to agree, so the two men broke apart. Jim Shaft clapped his hands and said:

“Ladies, where are our manners?! We invited you here to show our support for the school, and ... errr ....our respect for you as professionals. By your actions tonight, you have successfully averted disaster for Humpton Girls School – well done! Dr Twatte, let me ceremonially present you with the dossiers you’ve bid for, and then I have a very interesting proposition for you....!”

And so, Dr Eleanor Twatte, MA (Cantab), found herself starring at an award ceremony. In the course of her distinguished career, Dr Twatte had collected many prizes. But this was a bit different!

For one thing, she had never displayed quite so much of her cunt on a podium before. For another thing, she’d never before received an award from a guy who shook her hand with his right hand, and groped her arse crack with his left.

But most important of all, she’d never been so relieved to actually take possession of an award in her life! It might be only a few grubby folders, but getting hold of them meant salvation for the school.

Dr Twatte squatted in front of the fire, feeding each page to the flames. She was past caring about the fact that every guy in the room was getting a lovely view of her minge by the firelight. It was just such a relief!

Mr Shaft courteously stayed very close to the large-breasted nude academic. Once she had done her essential admin work, he beckoned her to a far corner of the room.

Mr Shaft guided Dr Twatte with his arm as they walked there. And if he occasionally brushed a lovely bare bosom, one could hardly blame him. Her tits were so big that they were very hard to avoid.

Fenella and Jenny looked at them curiously. And the rest of the men looked at Fenella and Jenny.

Through the walls came Dr McGrott’s voice. She was giving an instruction, presumably in Romanian. Then she said “Fuck it! ‘Doggy style’ doesn’t translate literally in Romanian. I’m buggered if I can remember the idiomatic phrase.”

Then (obviously miming it to Mayor Jizz), she sad “Woof! Woof!” There was a deep chuckle, and a steady thumping started up again. Followed soon by cries of delight from McGrott.

Fenella and Jenny couldn’t hear what Mr Shaft was proposing to Dr Twatte. But they were relieved to see their leader’s body language. Whatever it was that Mr Shaft was saying, Dr Twatte seemed to be finding it acceptable.

First Dr Twatte started to smile. Then she inched closer to Mr Shaft, so that her naked side, hip and thigh were jammed against him. Dr Twatte uncrossed her legs. She cupped her huge breasts and pointed them playfully at Mr Shaft, evidently to underline some point she was making.

Then Dr Twatte opened her legs wide, thrust out her crotch, and twisted her body to face Mr Shaft full on. Then she climbed on top of Mr Shaft and started eating his face. Flinging a beautiful white leg over Mr Shaft as she did so, and humping her substantial bare backside up and down.

The couple slid on the floor, and Eleanor reluctantly scrambled to her feet. But not without a playful little dab at Mr Shaft’s flies. She stood over him, legs naughtily apart. Dangling her tits in Mr Shaft’s face and grinding her bottom, Eleanor whispered something to him that made him go cross-eyed with delight.

Then Dr Twatte skipped back to her colleagues, making absolutely no attempt to steady her bouncing breasts and jiggling buttocks. The watching men nodded their heads up and down. As they followed Twatte’s boing-ing body, they looked like little toy dogs in the back windows of cars,.

Fenella and Jenny were glad to see Eleanor’s flushed face and protruding nipples. Also to smell the faint odour of musk on her. She must have good news for them!

The three naked women got into a huddle, with their bottoms sticking out.

Eleanor quickly explained the seven point plan:-

(1) All school debts to be written off by the bank on Monday morning

(2) Grovelling apology from the editor of the Humpton Helmet to Jenny Pratt for ordering Vladimir Curtis to his act of betrayal. Vladimir only obeying orders, not his fault, deeply in love with Jenny, etc

(3) Guaranteed good publicity from the Helmet for the school for evermore

(4) Humpton School to become the Chamber of Commerce’s preferred charity. (The Chamber of Commerce’s ‘charity’ slush fund was known to be worth a bloody fortune! The official charity, “Brain-damaged Humpton kangaroos” had never been paid a penny, for the simple reason that it didn’t exist. It was a notorious tax scam)

(5) Talking of notorious tax criminals, Dr Virginia McGrott must continue her valuable work at the school! As soon as she had finished fucking the Mayor of Punk, Dr McGrott would be presented with a five-year contract offering double her current pay. (Funded by the Chamber of Commerce.) Dr McGrott would be relieved of any duties involving finance, in order to concentrate better on her vital work of teaching, research and ... errr ... liaison with the Mayor

(6) Eleanor Twatte, Jenny Pratt and Fenella Blowett also to be given a pay rise

(7) In return for (1) to (6) above, Twatte, Blowett & Pratt should provide the entertainment for the Chamber of Commerce for the rest of the night. (Well there was nothing else to do, was there?!!)
The bare bottoms waggled in agreement. All this sounded very reasonable.

“And I think Virginia will be happy with that,” said Dr Twatte. At that point, there was a massive vibration from the room next door, followed by a throaty howl of feminine joy. “Yes, I think Virginia would be happy with anything right now! Oh, I do hope they haven’t broken that bed...”

“But what about this ‘entertainment’ we’re meant to provide?” worried Fenella. “It’s so embarrassing being naked with all these men. I really couldn’t dance in front of them and do magic tricks and things.”

“Poor Fenella!” thought the other two sympathetically. There’ll be a bit more required of you, dear, than doing card tricks.”

“Never mind, Fenella”, said Jenny. “You’ll be surprised how naturally it comes to you. When I did this the other night – errr.... I mean, I hear that it’s all quite easy to improvise.”

“Look, Fenella,” said Dr Twatte. “Jenny and I will start with a little floor show and you can watch. I suggest you sit on Bill Swett’s lap [winking at Jenny]. You’ll get a good view there, and it will keep Bill happy.”

“Oh yes, good idea!” said Jenny. “Bill won’t mind if you ask him nicely.”

So Fenella walked over to Bill, blushing from head to toe, and from tits to ass. She asked Bill shyly if she could sit on his lap, and guess what? Bill said yes.

Then silence fell, as Jenny and Eleanor stood together. Each of the nude beauties had an arm around the other’s waist.

From the bedroom there came a slobbering, slurping, sucking sort of noise. It sounded as if somebody was trying to swallow a rather large, stiff, pink, throbbing, Moldovan kind of object. Everyone stopped what they were doing, and listened as the gobbling and gulping grew noisier. What a messy eater!

Then, in a low, rumbling key, a very happy grunting started up. It grew louder and jollier. And then it climaxed with a big belching sort of roar. Somebody choked and spat. And then two people started to laugh. (The gobbler and the grunter?) What on earth was going on in there?

Now, where were we? Ah yes...

Everyone turned back to look at Eleanor and Jenny. Who were well worth looking at. What a tasty pair of naked, curvy, cunty lovelies!

Clearly the ladies were a bit nervous. But deep breathing is very good when you’re nervous. So the men were very glad to see the nude women’s knockers rising and falling, swinging and swaying. Excellent!

“Evening, gentlemen!” said Dr Twatte. “We hope you’re having a good time.” (Whistles and cheers.) “Here’s my friend Jenny Pratt.” Jenny slapped her thigh – ripple! – and blew the guys a kiss.

“Jenny and I are your entertainment for the evening. With our good friend, Fenella, to...errr...come.” Applause for Fenella, who blushed furiously and tried vainly to cover her breasts.

“Now Jenny and I are ... errr ...wide open. To any suggestions you might have! And the naughtier, the better!” Obscene little mime from the two ladies, showing just how ‘open’ they could get, and what kind of ‘suggestions’ they might welcome.

“I’m delighted to see so many good-looking men here tonight. I hope to see more of you as the night goes on. I’m really glad that you can see so much of me. But sometimes when I don’t have a man in my life, I think a woman is nice.” (Squeezing Jenny.)

Jenny giggled (which sent her breasts tumbling up and down). She said “ooohh, naughty girl, Eleanor, that tickles!”

Jenny was an inch or two shorter than Eleanor, so she stood on tip toes facing Eleanor, and held on to Eleanor’s buttocks for support. Looking into Eleanor’s eyes, she put her tongue into Eleanor’s mouth. The men cheered and clapped, as the two naked education professionals kissed each other greedily.

Eleanor now held on to Jenny’s buttocks. Their breasts squashed together. And their legs started to wobble.

Jenny couldn’t stay on tip toes forever, but not to worry! There was plenty of Eleanor for her to lick a bit lower down. Jenny delicately rolled Eleanor’s nipples around with her tongue and teeth. And she considerately rubbed at her boss’s crotch while she was at it.

Eleanor began to pant; her head rolled back; her legs went all bandy; and she sank to the floor in a randy little swoon. But Jenny’s blood was up! She knelt on the floor, shoulders under Eleanor’s knees, bottom in the air, and licked the headmistress’s cunt like a dog slobbering over a bone.

Eleanor went into great shudders of delight. The naked, sweaty woman thrashed her arms and legs, clutched her breasts and howled at the ceiling. One would judge her to be pleased.

Damned fine acting! Or was it? The men started to get a little uneasy – especially the ladies’ prospective suitors. “Mark”, murmured Mr Shaft, “when you were seeing Dr Twatte, she did like cock, didn’t she?”

“Oh yes, Jim! Insatiable! I’ve got every detail written down in this little journal....”

“That’s bloody typical of you, Swordsman.”

Jenny Pratt (a real trouper!) wasn’t content simply to lick Twatte’s vagina. Jenny had given a lot of thought to the overall spectacle.

So she parted her thighs prettily; she arched her back; and she thrust her bottom upwards and outwards. From sessions at home with the mirrors, Jenny knew that this would be sure to give the guys a great view of the underside of her cunt. And then she ground her butt in a clockwise direction, to heighten the appeal.

She was, after all, a professional, and must present herself in a professional way!

Also on her mind was (of course) Vladimir. He would be driven into a frenzy by this. And hopefully, also maddened with jealousy, as the other blokes made ‘appreciative’ comments.