Ariana trudged behind the headmaster's secretary, dragging her feet moodily across the polished marble corridor.  It wasn't her fault!  So what if she'd been rude to Miss Johnson earlier this week?  And so what if Mr Trent had caught her with one of the local comprehensive boys behind the history department, just as he was unbuttoning her blouse? She assumed the fight with Sharon White had been the final straw, but the bitch had been asking for it!  She sighed as she continued to shadow the silent administrator, pouting her lips in frustration.  This was all such a total waste of time.  After all, there was nothing the headmaster could do to her; she'd just get the usual telling off and be sent back to class.

 

The secretary led Ariana up the rickety staircase to the principal’s office and knocked on the door.  Upon discerning a muffled "Enter" from within, she opened the door and ushered Ariana inside, closing the door behind her.  Ariana stood in the headmaster’s large, wood-panelled office and looked at him across the expanse of red carpet.  The head teacher sat in a dark brown, high-backed leather chair behind an imposing solid oak desk, upon which piles of text books and papers were stacked.  His elbows were perched on the arms of his chair and he was resting his chin thoughtfully on his hands.  He raised an eyebrow at her demeanour; Ariana blushed and looked down at her feet.

 

"Well, girl?" he barked.  "Come forward so I can take a good look at you!"

​

Ariana advanced two steps closer to the desk as instructed and reluctantly raised her head to face the headmaster.  Mr Thompson was in his mid-thirties and had been principal of the school for the past two years. Many of Ariana’s fellow sixth form students had a crush on him, but she’d never understood why.  True, he was tall and handsome, and carried with him an air of authority; but to fancy him?  He was almost old enough to be her father!  Ariana’s eyes met his across the desk, and she sensed he was more agitated than on any of their previous encounters.  This was the third time she’d been summoned to his office in as many months, and on each occasion she’d shown little respect for the man sitting in front of her.  He stared across at her, motionless, and a hot flush washed over her as she realised this time she might actually be in trouble.

 

Peter Thompson wasn’t sure how to begin.  Ariana was far too head-strong for her own good.  An extremely attractive young woman, confident and extrovert, he’d watched her blossom with interest since her arrival some years ago.  And he was by no means the only male teacher who shared this curiosity.  Ariana was often the topic of conversation in the staff room, and many of the more deluded members of staff dreaded the day she ceased to grace the school with her presence.  He, of course, had every faith in the integrity of his colleagues and believed none capable of crossing the line by engaging in an illicit teacher-pupil relationship. However, he also appreciated that even a man with the mind of a saint would struggle to abstain from harbouring thoughts of a sexual nature towards Ariana.  He knew this to be so, because he’d often harboured such thoughts himself.  And the situation, which now found Ariana standing in front of his desk, wasn’t going to help matters at all.

 

Ariana anxiously chewed her lip as Peter studied her in detail.  She was tall and slim, with long blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail.  Her white blouse bore marks suggesting she’d been brawling again.  Her sleeves were upturned, the left higher than the right.  Her top button was undone and her school tie hung classically loose about her neck.  She wore a pleated grey skirt which, contrary to school regulations, came nowhere close to her knees.  Beneath her skirt she wore black tights and heaven only knew what else.  This last thought appeared to bring Peter to his senses.

 

“Do you know why I’ve sent for you, Ariana?” he asked.

 

“No, sir,” she replied, apprehensively.  Her mouth was dry and she started to breathe heavily.  Peter watched as her ample cleavage rose within her blouse, but did his best not to let it distract him.  “I did apologise to Miss Johnson, sir,” she continued.  “And it wasn’t me who started the fight in the dining hall.  That Sharon White has always had it in for me.”

 

“No Ariana,” interrupted the headmaster.  “This has nothing to do with Miss Johnson or Sharon White.”  Ariana looked perplexed.  “Nor, for that matter, does it have anything to do with your recent reported activities behind the history block, although, must I remind you, the local state school boys are strictly out of bounds at all times!”

 

Ariana nodded, and a bead of sweat ran down the side of her face.  A huge sense of unease was welling inside her.  “But what then?” she asked.

 

Peter drew a deep breath and sighed.  This wasn’t going to be easy at all.