I’m Not a Slut

“Name the Tenth Element in the Periodic Table.” I thought for a moment, “Oh shit! This is from the fall term. Oh God, what is it?” I started counting, absent mindedly, starring out into space, my eyes only focusing on that damn table which my mind was projecting. I couldn’t make out the tenth until, “it is…ugh…NEON! That’s it, Neon. Hurrah, that’s it, I’m finished!”

I suddenly realized that I was starring right at Norman Whittier, the biggest nerd and dumb ass in the class. I shifted my eyes immediately and wondered why in the world I was sharing at “Noorrman” for God’s sake. As I turned my paper over and scooted down in my seat a little, I got a contented feeling all over me knowing that I had just finished my last exam for that ol’ fart Mr. Beloski.

Everyone hated Mr. Beloski, well almost everyone. We all called him “The European Pervert” on account that he was always looking at girls. Up their skirts or down their blouses, it didn’t make any difference to Mr. Beloski. He came here from Poland or Romania or somewhere really weird like that and he is a real creep. Everybody says so, except ol’ double D Judy Whitesell. God, she would hang her boobs down in front of his nose every chance she got and, I swear, he would actually start drooling.

But at that particular moment, I didn’t care. I was finished and I had a standing date with my hunk, Richie, at his place and we were going to make love all afternoon long, just like always. I was just getting that tingling feeling down between my thighs when Mr. Beloski voice brought me back into this world.

“Time has expired!” he barked. “Put your pencils down, turn over your papers and exit the room quietly. Ah Miss Anderson, would you be so kind but to stay behind for a moment?”

“Oh God,” I thought to myself but answered, “Yes Mr. Beloski, what can I do for you?” The instant it came out of my mouth I thought, “What did you say, Girl?”

He waited until we were alone and then he said, “Miss Anderson, you know that this examination counted for over fifty per cent of your grade, no?” He was starring at my nose piercing on my right nostril and then his eyes shifted to the small tattoo on my ankle.

I nodded my head, thinking, “What is this all about?”

“Well then, Miss Anderson, I must give you an F as your final grade,” he said matter of factly.

I was in shock. “An F?” I exclaimed. “But Mr. Beloski, what did I do? Why are you giving me an F?”

“I caught you cheating off Mr. Whittier’s paper. Therefore, you will get no credit for this examination and as a result, you will not pass my course and will not graduate with your classmates,” he continued in a mono-toned voice.

I was in total disbelief. I started to stammer, “But I didn’t cheat Mr. Beloski. You’ve got to believe me. Really, I didn’t cheat. Why would I look at Norman’s paper? My god, he’s so stupid!”

I stopped for a second to catch my thoughts when Mr. Beloski said, “Miss Anderson, you have a reputation around school, a not so good reputation. I am told that you give yourself freely to any boy who wants you. Is that true, Miss Anderson?”

I was shocked at first and then I got PISSED. What did he mean, “I’ve got a reputation?” What the fuck does my reputation have to do with my grade anyway? Then the light went on. He was trying to blackmail me into doing something with him, that son-of-a-bitch!

“Are you still seeing that boy, Mr. Baldwin what is his name, Richie Baldwin?” he asked.

I started to answer when he cut me off with, “He’s no good for you, Miss Anderson. He will use you and when he’s through, he’ll drop you like, what they say, like a hot rock, yes.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. This wasn’t happening to me. What did he want from me? Did he want to fuck me right here in the classroom? I’d scream bloody murder if he so much as touches me. I will, I promise.

“You might want to know what I want from you, no?” he asked, reading my mind. “Well, I was wondering if you give yourself to these boys freely, for nothing in return, what would you do for something important like graduating with your classmates? What would you ask me to do to you to get your grade up to a passing level?” he mused. “Would you, for example, ask me what your grade would be for moving closer to me and standing right in front of me? Would I be willing to raise your grade to say a D?”

My stomach was tight and I was so mad I could have spit in his face but I thought, “Let’s see what he wants. I can always stop.” Before I knew it, I took a couple of steps forward as I asked, “Would you raise my grade up to a D if I came over and stood right in front of you?”

“I suppose, yes I would, Miss Anderson,” he said. I stopped my approach right at his knees as he continued to sit at his desk. I suddenly thought, “Now what?”

He sensed my indecision so he inserted, “You could ask, what grade would I get if a raised my skirt up so you could see my underwear?”

I repeated his question verbatim through my clenched teeth.

“I’ve seen underwear before. I would raise your grade to a D plus, yes no more,” he said with a fake frown on his face.

I thought for a long moment and then my hands grabbed the hem to my pleaded yellow mini-skirt and pulled it up to my stomach, exposing my white cotton panties to his gaze. The material stretched tight over my pussy and the feeling of his look made me want to throw up, it was so disgusting. I must have blushed a little because he said, “Come, come Miss Anderson, this is not the first time you’ve exposed your underwear to a man is it not?”

I ignored his last comment. What business was it of his to know who and who has not seen my panties and, besides, I was too flustered to make a comment. All I wanted was to get my grade back to where it belonged and to get the hell out of there as fast as I could and I knew what he wanted and he wasn’t going to get it.

He peered with his deep grey eyes into my crotch area. A sneer started to form across his face. Then he sat up straight and moved his face closer so that he could get a better look. I twitched and shuffled my feet as he probed my crotch with his eyes.

“Are you going to show me more?” he asked slowly after staring a hole through my panties.

“Mr. Beloski, would you give me a B if I showed you what’s under my panties?” I asked hesitantly.

He thought for a moment and then he said, “No, not a B, but possibly a C if you remove your underwear down to your knees,” he offered.

“Bastard!” I thought to myself but then I slowly pulled on the sides of my panties and soon they were at my knees.

“Whoa, look at that!