Behind The Bike Sheds,
Chapter 6
Miss Ford
Arriving at college on Monday morning, I was suprised to find an envelope with my name neatly hand-written on it in my pigeon-hole. I opened it up and inside was a note which read:
Jamie,I was disturbed by the lack of appreciation for female sensibilities that you and your friends displayed when Mr Armitage and I caught you in the area behind the water tanks on Friday afternoon. Whether or not you were watching a woman undressing, to suggest it as the activity you were undertaking, no doubt to hide what you were actually doing, indicates that you have little to no respect for women.
Please come to Room 4.08 at the end of classes today, and bring your friends with you. I wish to determine whether you need a lesson in how to properly appreciate the value that women bring to society, or whether I should give you the benefit of the doubt and let you off. The college take this kind of pseudo-sexism very seriously.
M. Ford
My heart jumped a beat. I hadn't though any more of our encounter with Mr Armitage or Miss Ford over the weekend (I had, however, thought a lot about Anne's delightful hairy bush). Was she right? Were we just treating our showgirls as objects for our entertainment? Or was it a two-way transaction, with the women getting as much out of the shows as we did. If there were women queueing up to put on a show for us, as Donna indiacted that there were, surely they got something out of it. I couldn't imagine them wanting to undress in a dirty industrial area whilst being watched by four naked or semi-naked guys without them getting some payback.
I showed the letter to the boys. Adam seemed the most worried. He said that his parents would probably ground him forever if he was thrown out of college. We discussed whether to tell the whole story to Miss Ford. As a professor of ethics, perhaps she could shed some light on my payback question. Adam, Mike and Conan said that we should just take Mr Armitage's suggestion that we were swatting for exams, but I feared that Miss Ford would see through it as we might all give different versions of the same event, shattering our alibi. In the end we decided to see what Miss Ford said, and play it by ear.
5pm came around and we all headed to Room 4.08. Miss Ford was there dressed in a long-sleeved black knitted jumper, a black skirt that stopped just above her knees which revealed black pantyhose. On top she wore a red blouse, and on her feet flat red shoes. She was sitting on her desk. She pointed at the four tables in front of us and dutifully we went to sit behind them. She began by asking us all for our names, and reiterating that if she wasn't convinced that were knew rights and wrongs when it came to treating women with respect, she may report us to the college dean. Standing up, she picked up some paper from her desk and put one down in front of each of us.
"Turn those papers over and tell me what you see," she instructed.
I turned the paper over and printed on it was a picture of a pretty woman, probably in her late 20s. She was standing on a platform by what looked like a lake, and was leaning forward. She was wearing a white fur-lined leotard with long white sleeves, but had pulled it down so that her tits were uncovered, and it was just beginning to reveal her bush. She was leaning so far forward, though, that her large tits were dangling down in front of her, obscuring any view of her bush that might be available.
"I see a pretty woman, in a provocative pose." Conan stated.
"Do you think she is happy to be there?" Ms Ford asked.
"She has a smile on her face," Conan replied, "and the way it is posed suggests that she may been modelling and got paid for it."
"So she is a prostitute? She is using her body in return for financial recompense. A common whore?"
"Not at all," Conan seemed very certain of himself. "She does not look under duress. She is not being violated. She is using the fact that she is pretty to earn some money, it's a different thing. It's like strong men working as builders. They're profiting from their physical attributes."
"So you're saying that if ugly women pose for erotic photos, they must have some other motive for doing so. No-one is going to pay for pictures of them?"
She walked to her desk, took off her sweater and folded it neatly on her chair, and sat back down on her desk facing us and picked up another piece of paper. I noticed that for a professor, the tops of her arms were unexpectedly, yet heavily tattood and that they were not particularly tasteful. She placed another piece of paper in front of us.
"This is you Maam," I said, "both these photos are." I wasn't thinking as I added, "You were very pretty when you were younger?"
"Oh, so I'm not pretty now?" I should have seen that coming. "When I was younger, you think people paid me to pose topless for them. Now I am older, no-one would be interested. Am I no longer sexy? Do you think that men are no longer attracted to me?"
We all sat in silence, not knowing how to respond. Mike's audacity got the better of him.
"I still think you look sexy."
"So any woman willing to take her clothes off is a sex object to you, is that it? As you have provocative topless pictures of me, you think that I am dying to have sex with you?"
"Not necessarily," Mike replied. "It's about attitude. A woman who is naked out of her own choice, and who flaunts what she has like you are doing in those pictures, however physically attractive, is sexy. A woman who is embarrassed to be naked, or is uncomfortable with it, is not sexy. It's a kind of unwritten or unspoken tranferrance of mood from one person to another. If the woman is happy, it puts you at ease so that you can enjoy looking at her. If she is clearly nervous, it is no longer erotic."
"So it's a kind of telepathy, that you can detect even from a photograph. Let's test your theory, shall we? I am going to give you a lesson in female anatomy." She walked over to the windows and closed the blinds, and pulled the shutter down on the classroom door which she then locked.
"To test Mike's hypothesis, we need a means of testing whether you are finding a particular thing 'sexy' or not. We can do this through galvanic skin response, however I don't have any calibrated skin galvanometers in this classroom. We could measure your blood pressure, as it tends to increase if it has to pump more blood to your penises when you are aroused, but this is not a very precise measure as anxiety and other factors can cause a similar respose. The same is true with heart-rate which is an equally unreliable measure of arousal." She paused. "No, I think the only way we can measure whether you are finding something 'sexy' or not is for you to all get your penises out so that we can see if you are aroused in the most reliable and visible way. Now all of you, stand up, and drop your pants."
We did as we had been instructed. All of us were flacid, and whilst the initial topless, photos of the young Miss Ford might have caused some initial arousal, this had now died away as the uncertainty over what Miss Ford's test might involved drained any excitement from our cocks. She stood up and placed large sheets of paper on the tables in front of us, and returned to sitting on her desk.
"Let's see what you know about female anatomy." She pointed at her breasts. "What would you call these?"
"Your chest," Adam offered.
"Bosoms," was Mike's addition.
"Mammary glands", I remembered from my biology lessons.
"Breasts," said Conan.
"Those are medical terms," she continued. "I'm sure you have other names for them that you are afraid to mention to a college professor. Let's see if I can help you relax a little and open up." With that, she unbuttoned her blouse and took it off, revealing a red bra underneath straining to hold the largest pair of boobs I had ever seen. "Does this help?"
"Boobs," Conan now added.
"Is that the best you can do? Those names are all very nice, but look at your limp penises and you will see that they aren't 'sexy'. Is that because they lack attitude. If I jiggle my 'breasts' about, does that change anything." She cupped her bra with her hands and moved them up and down. They sure seemed heavy as they moved slightly out of synch with her hands, as if requiring some inertia to get them moving. She looked at our still flacid cocks.
"As things with a purely biological description, my mammaries are not arousing you. If we called them 'tits'," she emphasised the word 'tits', "they become things with a different purpose. Instead of being for producing milk for offspring, they become things of entertainment for the pleasure of men, or women, if they are that way inclined. Cupped, as they are, in my bra, they remain my possessions, invisible from the watching world and private to me. If I was to remove my bra, all of a sudden they become public property".
She reached down between her boobs and unfastened her bra, removing it and putting it on her desk. I had never seen one that undid at the front before. I wasn't wrong, her boobs were probably the biggest I had seen, and though she had a bit of a belly to go with it, her tits projected far in front of her stomach. I realised, as I examined her mammaries that I was beginning to feel aroused. My cock had slightly grown, though only slightly.
"I see that my public property is proving more 'sexy' to some of you. But you have forced me to do this and I am ashamed that my bosoms are now on display." She used one of her arms to cover her nipples, but it could do little to hide the rest of her tits. "I am embarrassed that my privacy has been stolen from me by you four students that I hardly even know."
Her attempts to convince us that she was ashamed, trying to make us squirm a little uncomfortably, were badly hidden as we could all see the smile hidden under her words.
"Actually," she removed the hand from her chest and waved her boobs from side to side, "I love the feeling of my tits being free from clothing, and I often walk around at home with no bra on. Sometimes I forget that I'm topless and stand in my kitchen cooking whilst people walk by in the street outside and look in and see me through the window."
As we thought about Miss Ford flashing her very ample breasts at passers by to her house, we became more aroused.
"You see. If I am happy at flaunting my femininity, you all become more aroused. Mike's hypothesis may be proving itself." She stepped down from her desk and turned to face away from us. I could see the edge of her boobs peeking out from her sides. "Let's try another one." She bent down slightly to force her ass which was clearly also quite large to jut out and pointed it. "What's this called?"
Adam was first to respond, "Your bottom."
"Buttocks", Conan added.
"Gluteous something or other," I was strugging remembering the biological term.
"Bum," Mike completed the answer.
"The same problem," Miss Ford explained. "Those are polite or medical terms and Jamie", she said looking at me, "the gluteous maximus are the muscles that form the ass cheeks". She turned around to face us again and I was reminded again by the size of her boobs, which I had almost forgotten about given all this talk of ass.
"None of you were particulary excited by all the medical talk of my behind, I notice." Her boobs dangling precariously close in front of me were beginning to get me exited though. She walked back around her desk and sat in her chair, her boobs so heavy, they were almost resting on her desk. She picked up her bra and put it back on.
"Mike hypothesised that if a woman was naked and was happy to flaunt it, it was alluring, but if she was embarrassed to be nude, that was maybe even a little awkward or upsetting to you. Our little experiment seemed to prove that. When I said I was embarrassed to be showing you my bosom and tried to hide it, you were only vaguely aroused. When I talked of flashing my tits to people walking past my house, you were all visibly stimulated." She began to fiddle with something beneath her desk. I thought she was trying to get something out from a drawer that was stuck. She leaned forward as if to pick something up from the floor and continued to tinker with something or other and then sat straight again.
"The final part of my lesson today is to see if you can tell the difference between a woman who is happy to flaunt her body, and one who is embarrassed. How do you think you could tell the difference?"
"Well, Mam", Mike began, feeling that as it was his original hypothesis he should respond to it, "there are verbal and physical tells. When you were telling us that you were embarrassed to show us your, er, bosoms, your voice was quiet and the way you held your body was curved up in a ball, as if you were trying to hide away from us like a hedgehog. But when you were telling us about being topless at home, your tone was much more lively, and you stood much taller, almost proud."
"That's quite sharp of you Mike, I like the hedgehog simile." Miss Ford praised him. "What about the rest of you?" I was still quite destracted by that fact that she had shown us her large tits. Even now that she had put her bra back on, the memory almost overlayed their picture on top of her bra so she may as well have remained topless, at least in my head. Adam, it seemed, had put some thought into it.
"I think it's also to do with the process of undressing. If you were being in any way co-erced, you would remove your clothes whilst trying to cover your privates, keeping your body hidden. If you were a willing participant, you would be only too keen to show off and your stance would be more open."
"That's similar to Mike's response." Adam seemed disappointed at her response. "What about you Jamie?" I was jolted out of my boob appreciation mood.
"It's kind of related to Mike's earlier point, but I think if you were unhappy at undressing you would be quiet and not say very much. If you were enjoying yourself, you would be chatty, even cheeky."
"So let me summarise," Miss Ford sat squarely in her chair. "If a woman is boisterous, outgoing, has an open stance and seems to have pride in her appearance, and is taking off her clothes, then she is alright with what is going on. If she is reserved, closed-up, quiet and, to use Mike's phrase, like a hedgehog, she is uncomfortable and may even be being coerced."
"I doubt any of you have ever visited a prostitute. Many need the money to support their family, or for alcohol or drugs. Many are being pimped out by an abusive partner. A lot are forced into selling their bodies when they would rather not, but feel they have to. Some truly enjoy their work. Do you think that any of them would make much money if they weren't outgoing? I can tell you that they would not, as the signs of embarrassment you mention are all there, they're just hidden beneath a veneer of bluster. Given your answers, I think you all have sufficient EQ to be able to tell if a woman is a willing participant or not, but you all need to promise me that if you ever find yourself in a situation where you can sense those signs that a woman is uncomfortable with the situation, you will take a step back and stop proceedings."
Standing there with our cocks now totally deflated, we all nodded in agreement.
"I have one last test for you," she added. I guessed it was to do with the large sheet of paper she had put on our tables earlier, or maybe she had managed to retrieve whatever it was she had been looking for on her desk. "Who wants to see my big tits again?" she asked.
Mike responded, "Well, given that you have invited us, that you are sitting in your chair quite casually with no signs of distress, I sense that you are willing, if not even teasing us, to say 'yes'."
"Good," she said, "you have learned something today, and as a reward I'll flash my titties once again."
"Ah," I added, "the use of the words 'flash' and 'titties' being quite provocative and casual further suggest that you are being playful and therefore definitely not under duress."
"Very good, though remember that such playfulness can be feigned, but in this case you are quite right." She stood up behind her desk and once again reached up to her bra again and unfastened it, letting her boobs roam free once again. This time, I was a little more aroused, and some of the other boys were too.
"Isn't that interesting!" She looked at our slightly inflating cocks. "My more playful approach to showing you my tits has aroused you more than before. Maybe the anticipation of knowing that you were going to see them helped too, as before I didn't give you any indication of what I was going to do." She stood to one side of her chair, and put one foot up on it. Her knee and part of her upper leg appeared above the desk. I could see she was wearing stockings, as the stocking top was just visible over the top of her desk. "I hope you can all see that I am wearing stockings. Is this playfullness or is this something I do every day?"
"We can't tell Maam. For all we know you wear them every day and this is just normal," Adam said. "However, you putting your leg on the chair to show us that you are wearing them, and given the connotations that stockings have of being alluring compared to pantyhose, supports the notion that you are being a little impish."
Miss Ford laughed, "I don't think I've ever been called impish before. But you make a fair point about me showing them to you. As it happens, I regularly wear stockings as I find them more comfortable, and they make me feel more feminine." The flashing of the stockings strengthened my hard-on slightly but there was still a way to go. She noticed that some of us had found the stockings sufficiently erotic to stiffen a little more.
Next, she walked around to the front of her desk and sat back on it, facing us all. To our complete surprise she had removed her skirt, meaning she was sitting right in front of us with her tits on show in just stockings and panties. Her panties were of the mom variety being large enough to safely cover her pussy and ass. Though I felt I should probably look away at a college professor in her underwear, I noticed that her panties were slightly see-through.
Now unable to avert my eyes to any other area than her panties, I realised that I could see the outline of her bush. It was definitely hairy though as she was sitting with her legs together, only the hair was visible.
"Now, tell me gentlemen, impish or embarrassed?" she asked. "And just in case any of you haven't noticed," she opened her legs slightly to reveal more of her beaver hair, "my panties are translucent."
Conan responded first, "Err, definitely impish Mam." Looking at the rest of us we all nodded.
"As you might be able to tell," Miss Ford continued, "in my younger days I used to be an occasional glamor model. Nothing pornographic, just a few topless and naked shots. I use the pictures I've shown you in my classes, to give a very similar lesson that that which I've briefly given you today. I have never been ashamed of my body, which some of my colleagues, including your Mr Armitage, find enticing. He's seen the pictures and thinks if he works on me, I might show him in person. That's one thing we didn't cover, the difference between posing for a camera, and being naked in front of real people, but that can probably wait for another day."
She walked back to the rear of her desk and picked up her skirt from the floor and put it back on. So that's what the fiddling had been about. She put her bra back on, and then her blouse, and went to unlock the classroom door.
"You can all put your penises away again now. Our experiment is over. But if I ever catch any of you exhibiting misogynistic behavior, I will be reporting you to the college. Now off you go."
With our heads between our tails, we headed to leave.
"Jamie," she called, "come back here for a moment, I want to clarify something with you." She asked me whether we really had been watching a woman undressing by the water tanks. I felt I owed the truth and explained our whole behind the bike sheds goings-on including our guidelines. She seemed genuinely interested, whether from an academic or personal view I had no idea. With another word of caution about treating women as humans and not objects, she let me go.