Slamming the door so hard that the living room windows rattled and immaculately arranged vases jumped, Ava threw her bookbag in the general direction of the fireplace and stormed into the kitchen.
Stomp, stomp, stomp.
It always felt good to make a lot of noise when you were angry, Ava thought distractedly as she yanked open the fridge and fished out a soda with a little less show -- she didn't want it spewing all over her when she cracked it open, after all -- and then kicked the door shut.
Slam!
Her dad had left cookies on the counter, with a little note that said,
I'll be home at 6, Spaghettio -- Dad.
Ava's father hadn't called her Spaghettio since her mom died, three years ago. On any other day, she would have been both elated and comforted to know that he was reaching out again. Today, though, it was like grinding salt into a wound with sandpaper.
Crumpling up the note, Ava grabbed the plate of cookies, clutched her soda in the other hand, and stalked into the living room, flopping down unceremoniously on the recliner. Her bookbag was too far away to reach with her hand, so, hook a foot through the strap and drag'er back.
Munching as angrily as one could on a delicious chocolate chip cookie, Ava settled back with the sealed envelope the school had sent home with her, inspecting the front and then the back before reading the front again. All it said was,
Mr. Bradley,
in the precise, tilted script of the headmaster's own hand.
Which means Big Trouble, Ava thought glumly, shoving her long, dark braid behind her shoulder. Her dad was used to getting letters from St. Magdalene's School For Reformed Girls, but he was accustomed to seeing the flowery handwriting of Mr. Creeley's secretary. The change wouldn't slip past her dad, either -- he may be out of touch emotionally, but he was certainly with it in every other aspect of his life.
Tearing a bite off her second cookie, Ava washed it down with a gulp of soda and then tore open the envelope, knowing full and well it was sealed for a reason. She didn't care, though -- she had to know what was in that letter before her dad saw it.
Dear Mr. Bradley;
I am as concerned for Ava's spiritual well-being as I am for her already tenuous footing here at St. Magdalene's. As you know, we have recorded fourteen unexcused absences, three violent verbal outbursts and several distasteful (need I say immoral) comments in class this semester alone.
We have made numerous exceptions in your daughter's case in light of your unfortunate circumstances, and because we sympathize with the difficulties you must face at home, raising such a willful and rebellious child without a mother's touch. Despite our desire to do everything we can to keep Ava enrolled here, however, she crossed a line today that puts me in an immensely difficult predicament.
Ava and another student were absent from P.E. today; to make this awkward account as brief as possible, their whereabouts were uncovered when Sister Martha found them engaged in a carnal embrace in the locker room.
I know this must be as much of a shock for you as it is for Sister Martha and me, but this behavior is inexcusable and immoral to the extreme. It may result in Ava's expulsion from St. Magdalene's. Due to the sensitive nature of this transgression, I, Sister Martha, the other student's parents and you are the only ones who know about this incident. I would like to meet with you personally to discuss your daughter's actions and her future here at the school.
As always, praying for Ava's immortal soul, Headmaster John. P. Creeley
Ava realized that she had two fingers pressed tight over the damp folds of her pussy, her thumb bumping softly and rhythmically against her clit. Her face flushing crimson, she snatched her hand out of her panties and wiped her fingers on the pleats of her green plaid skirt before carefully refolding the letter.
"Man, am I in for it this time," Ava bemoaned to the living room, tucking the letter back into its envelope (and her fingers back into her crotch) as she sank further into the recliner. Sister Martha had caught the girls right as they were approaching mutual sanctification; soapy bodies mashed together, Ava's fingers buried deep inside Roxie's drenched little snatch, Roxie's thumb flicking furiously at Ava's clit.
Even knowing that she was in deep shit couldn't slake her body's hunger for a mind blowing orgasm. Hooking a knee over the arm of the recliner, Ava lifted her hips, wiggled her panties down to just under the hem of her skirt and glanced at the ticking grandfather clock. Just after five. She had nearly an hour to get herself off one or two times before her dad got home (or maybe ten.. she was feeling especially frustrated in that department today).
Laying her head back, Ava closed her eyes and pushed her palm firmly on top of her clit, smashing it down as she curled her middle finger a little, letting the tip push just inside the tight opening of her sex. It was still sopping -- it had been from the moment Roxie pushed her back against the shower wall and hungrily kissed her on the mouth.
Oh, god. Just
thinking
about it was making her pussy twitch and clit throb all over again. Ava let her mind wander as she started grinding the heel of her hand over her clit, still working just the tip of her finger in and out of her hot, slick entrance, teasing the tight, sensitive ring of flesh.
Roxanne -- Roxie to her friends -- had been expelled from public school and arrived at St. Magdalene's the very week that Ava met the same fate. Though the two were physically different as night and day, they shared a mutual disdain for Catholic School and authority in general, and as such became friends overnight. Roxie was a tall, athletic blond with small, perky tits, impossibly long legs, glacial blue eyes and striking features -- you could see her Icelandic heritage right away. Ava, on the other hand, was shorter and curvier, with slightly plump thighs, a juicy round ass, and soft, heavy breasts that were hard as hell to hide (
not
