Naughty Girl Ch. 05

Bernice was picked up after school by Susan, her so called aunt. Susan was Paul's niece and only eighteen, but made up to look like an older woman. She had done a good job on the disguise. The sophisticated make-up, nails, hair, and clothes, let Susan get away with the charade.

Bernice on the other hand, was pretending to be an eighteen year old. It was embarrassing for a mature, married woman having to act like an adolescent, and especially so, with this young girl bossing her around.

"What are you giggling at, girl?" Susan asked.

Bernice wanted to retaliate and put the annoying girl in her place. She had been congratulating herself on surviving her first day in a new school. It was a stupid thought, as she was no high school student, and had burst out laughing over the silly idea.

After only one day at school Bernice had sunk into the role fairly well. She had a run-in with a prefect and a teacher, and survived both humiliating situations. At least the afternoon had been quiet in class. Having someone to share thoughts and anxieties with was vital when growing up, so she would have to start mixing with fellow students.

She almost laughed out loud again. She had to remind herself, that she was a mature woman, and had left behind those awful feelings of self-doubt and anxiety years ago.

This had been the first day, and it would be the last.

She silently got into the sedan, with a typical tortured adolescent look on her face. She sat with arms folded, scowling.

"You can drop me off here!" Bernice announced. It was across town to her home, but she would walk it if she had to.

"No! Paul left strict instructions that I should take you home, and not let you out of my sight," Susan stated.

Bernice glowered, looking defiant and put upon.

Susan glanced at her while they drove home. The woman was acting weird. This morning Paul pretended he thought the woman was a kid, and they had all gone along with it. The pretence was strained, and not very convincing. Bernice seemed guilty and afraid, rather than young. Now she was behaving like a spoilt brat, when not getting her own way.

They pulled into the garage with the large automatic door shutting behind them. Bernice felt trapped, and with little choice traipsed into the kitchen behind Susan.

"Where's your uniform?" Susan asked, only just then realising the woman was wearing something different.

"I, err. . . I spilt paint on it. One of the teachers gave me this," Bernice lied.

There was no way she could possibly explain what happened. It would be too humiliating. Recalling the incident with the girls and Miss Perez, left her feeling small and vulnerable.

"That school uniform was expensive. I don't know what your, what Paul will say," Susan admonished her.

She just refrained from saying, 'what your father will say'. It was a familiar refrain her mother used. She was still unsure what her uncle and this woman were playing at. She was being well paid so what did it matter.

"Please don't tell him. Like, really it wasn't my fault," Bernice squirmed. She didn't want Paul to spank her again, so would have to gain this girls help.

Susan enjoyed this new power held over a woman. She stared Bernice down, revelling in seeing her submit. Looking her over afresh, Susan could see how different she looked from this morning. The adolescent pretence was far more convincing, from the way she behaved and spoke.

"I might make up some excuse for you. Do you promise to be a good girl?" Susan demanded to know. She imitated the heavy tone of voice her mother used when she was younger.

"Yes," Bernice conceded.

"Tell me then, so I know you mean it," Susan insisted.

"Like, Yea! I promise to be a good girl. Thank you Susan," Bernice demurely replied.

Bernice felt ensnared in the role, with yet more lies increasing its tight grip. If only she could tell them the truth and get out of this mess. The longer it went on the more difficult it was to escape. It was like a spiders web of lies being wound tight about her.

"You had better get on with your homework. Stay right there! Don't go to your room. I don't trust you not to get stuck into girly magazines. Get on with it then," Susan encouraged.

Bernice reluctantly flipped open a text book and note book. After a short while she became engrossed in the social studies assignment. It all seemed so much easier than before. This time she wasn't fervently looking forward to the end of school. This was it. The last school work ever. Before she realised it, the assignment was completed.

She sat at the kitchen table with a sense of satisfaction. She began to think back over the years of high school. Being bored in class, bullied out of class, her breasts developing late, boys, hating lessons, and the teachers.

While they waited for Paul to return, Susan fixed dinner. It left her feeling all the more like her own mother. Bernice was just sitting there, no longer glowering from being grounded, just staring into space.

"At least you could set the table," Susan said, with obvious exasperation.

"Alright, like really, there's no need to nag!" Bernice grumpily complained.

She could feel the response was wrong, yet couldn't help it. All weekend she had desperately tried to convince Paul she was a teenager. Being in school had demanded she behave like a schoolgirl, and she had. Reliving those awkward years of high school all over again was getting to her.

She had to get away before Paul got home. If he discovered who she was it would be dire. He knew about those boys she had been messing around with. Now he could tell her husband she had been at school all day.

"Hi Paul, had a good day?" Susan automatically asked. 'Shit! I'm turning into my mother, years ahead of time,' Susan thought.

Bernice tried to look unobtrusive, as though she could blend into the background, so as not to be noticed.

"That smells good! Have you been a good girl at school?" Paul asked.

Bernice had stopped cringing over being asked if she were a good girl. She accepted the demeaning question, yet couldn't accept that she was. Each time it was said, it reminded her of what happened Friday evening. She was a very bad girl. She felt like telling him she hadn't let anyone fuck her today.

"Yes, Sir," Bernice demurely answered.

"Sit down and we can eat together," he said.

While she washed up, Paul commented on the skirt and top.

"I gave it to her. They don't wear a uniform at that school," Susan lied for her.

"Alright, you can wear it tomorrow," Paul said.

He had a successful day while Bernice was absent from her office. The team in her department co-operated, without the boss looking over their shoulders. It would take awhile to gather enough information to make a proposal to the CEO, so he needed to keep her out of the department for a few more days.

Hell! Not another day of school, not that. Miss Perez was after her, and she would have to face those nasty girls. She had got herself into this mess and would have to talk her way out of it.

He was sending her to school because she said she quit, to work in that burger bar. He had watched her being fucked by that nasty boy, so she had to pretend to be someone else. At the time she had been pleased not to be recognised by him. Another mistake was telling him her parents were away. He ended up taking her to his home, to look after and make sure she behaved herself.

Damn! She had brought it all upon herself.

She neatly folded the school clothes on a chair, and wrapped a dressing gown around her naked body. She would have to do something. Where the hell was her husband? He hadn't answered the phone all weekend. The messages he left about being away meant Paul kept her here, until her parents returned home.

She padded on bare feet to the lounge, where Paul was working on a report.

"Can I phone home, sir?" she asked.

"Sure. If your parents are back, I'll take you home. If you promise me you'll be a good girl, I won't mention what happened," he smiled reassuringly at her.

A ray of sunshine lightened her feelings. She felt so excited at the prospect of escaping the nightmare, she danced on the spot.

"Oh! Like, thank you, Sir! I promise to be a good little girl, and do as I'm told. I'll keep away from the naughty boys, and study hard. I promise, honest!" Bernice gleefully gushed.

She was so excited it felt as though all her birthdays had come at once. A heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. The guilt over what she had done would return, and she had to work out what to do about Paul being in her office. All that had been forgotten. She was being let off school, and would be returned to the safety of her home. The humiliating charade was over!

Watching her skip off to his workroom, he wondered what lie she would come up with. The gossip in the office was that her husband was having an affair with a woman he worked with. Perhaps that is why she had been trying so hard to rekindle their marriage with silly games. She must have sensed something was going on.

It was while playing one of those games with her husband that got her into this mess. It was convenient for him to pretend he didn't recognise her, to keep her out of the way. He was finding it amusing keeping her like this, and pushing her to the limit.

Joan, the office gossip, figured the husband had finally left, and Bernice was recovering alone at home. It took a little digging to check their guess had been partially correct. In the end it had been so simple to find out what was going on. The husband had left her, to move in with the other woman.

Bernice listened to the answer phone message. It was short but certainly not sweet. Angus sounded uncertain, then firmed up his voice. He was leaving and not coming back! She was numb, not hearing the rest. She dialled again to listen once more to the message. Her husband wasn't coming back!

Bernice stumbled into the lounge, not seeing anyone or anything. The horrible news was unforeseen and shocking. She had tried so hard. Now she knew why he was paying her so little attention.

"Are they back home yet?" Paul asked, feigning ignorance.

Bernice shook her head. Tears ran from her eyes in silent splashes onto the carpet.

"Come here," Paul told her.

He reached for both hands and pulled her onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, he tried to console her.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"I don't know. He must have found out about what I did," she cried into his shoulder.

"Your parents didn't hear it from me, I promise you," he truthfully said. He steered her away from saying it was her husband, and continued to pretend she lived with her parents.

"No. I didn't mean my, I, I don't know what to do, I can't go back home," she sobbed.

"Don't worry little one, I'll look after you and make sure you don't get into any more trouble. You can stay with me for as long as you like," he consoled.

"Thank you, sir," she sobbed. His kindness in a moment of need was deeply touching.

"You're a good little girl. I'll keep you safe, as my special little girl," Paul whispered in her ear. For a moment he forgot who she really was, while responding to her grief.

Her husband's unexpected rejection hit hard. The years rolled back to when her father comforted her. When things were far simpler, and her father could put things right. She wanted to be somebody's little girl, and to be needed by someone.

Bernice nuzzled up to him. Feeling his strong arms safely wrapping her body was comforting. She felt frail, abandoned, and in great need of protection. She didn't have the energy to explain she meant her husband, and not her parents.

Susan watched Bernice drift aimlessly into the lounge. The woman was obviously upset. At first she thought they were playing some kind of management mind game. Paul had organised training exercises, which sounded stupid when he talked about them. Whatever it was, they were both acting very strangely.

She went to the spare room and grabbed the woman's school clothes. It wasn't new, so maybe it had been the truth, about a teacher giving it to her. It didn't need washing, so threw it back on the chair. A cruel idea occurred to her, and she picked it up again.

The two of them were still at it. The woman was sitting on his lap, sobbing her heart out. Susan had heard of regression therapy, but that couldn't be it, as Uncle Peter wasn't qualified. She continued to her room with a needle and thread.

"Bloody hell! Their stupid game is affecting me. I'm sitting here sewing, like my mother," Susan laughed to herself.

***

Next morning Bernice dragged herself to the kitchen, not bothering with make-up. She felt dejected and withdrawn.

"You're not dressed! You'll be late for school!" Susan admonished her.

Wearing just a dressing gown, which was too long for her, she didn't look so young that morning.

Paul walked in, and her eyes lit up.

"Come on young lady, you need to get a move on. You promised to be a good girl and to behave yourself," he reminded her.

"Sorry, sir. I'll get ready straight away," Bernice apologised. She forgot about her troubles for a moment, when receiving a smile from Paul.

"Eat your breakfast first," he warmly said. He patted her head as though she were a favourite pet.

She looked up at him with a bright smile lighting her face.

Susan looked at the two of them. They were even closer now, from whatever happened last night. They hadn't done it, she knew that much. The way the woman was looking at him, and hung on his every word, she was acting like a lovesick schoolgirl. It was sickening.

Paul left early for the office.

Bernice came back into the kitchen pulling at the skirt and top.

"Come on! You don't want to be late do you?" Susan warned.

"Like, no, this skirt, its shrunk!" Bernice complained.

"There's no time for that now. I'll get you something while out shopping. Don't start! You promised Paul to be a good girl, didn't you?" Carol reminded her.

"Yea, OK, but, like," she shrugged her shoulders, resigned to not getting help this time from Susan.

Carol wanted to laugh at her. She had been too enthusiastic with the alterations last night. The skirt was too short and the top too tight. There hadn't been a bra in the woman's room, and she put the sensible panties in the wash.

"Wait a minute! What are you wearing under that skirt? Show me!" Susan demanded.

With a look of excruciating pain Bernice lifted it, show the girl her panties. They were see-thru, except for a small triangle of cotton at the crotch.

"You're a right little slut, I should tell Paul when he gets home," Susan said.

"Oh! No! Please Susan, it's not my fault, it's all I had, honest. Please don't tell him, I'll die of shame," Bernice pleaded.

"You promise to be a good girl today, and I'll get you some decent panties," Susan said.

"Yea, of course, I promise to be a good girl, honest. Like really," she meekly responded.

Bernice didn't complain or make a fuss when Susan dropped her off at the school. She didn't even try to slip away before walking in the gate. Once in the school grounds there was no way to escape, so she deferred to the inevitable.

Finding her way to class was easy enough, even though she was lost in thought. It confounded her that it was so easy accepting being sent to school. The feeling of wanting to be a good girl, as everyone kept telling her, was strong. She really didn't want to let Paul down. She didn't want to lose him too. The thought struck as being wrong, but she couldn't shake it off.

The only seat left was next to a boy. Like everyone else he was eighteen, and he was obviously a geek. It was comfortable sitting with him, like two misfits together. The guys were checking her out again. The short skirt and skimpy top suddenly became embarrassing.

She was no longer a confident woman. She was a schoolgirl feeling as though caught with her skirt up. She fidgeted on the hard wooden seat, feeling vulnerable and nervous. She uselessly tugged at the hem without noticing the automatic gesture. The girls gave her dirty looks, even the ones wearing similar slutty clothes.

Everyone began to leave the classroom and she wondered where they were going. She had been daydreaming over past times, not taking part in the lesson at all.

"It's a free study period," Jim said.

"Oh." Bernice replied.

"You can join me if you like," he nervously smiled.

"OK." she shrugged.

He gave her a big smile of relief. Following him out she realised it had been a big thing for him to ask her to join him. The others were in groups talking animatedly, unaware of the two of them. As a new girl she was a non-entity, not worth bothering with, but at least she had someone to talk to.

They sat in the shade of some trees on the school field. Others were scattered around with books open for show. He was trying to start a conversation, though it was hard for him, as she was in no mood to talk.

"You're way out of your depth with that one, nerdy boy," a tall handsome guy jeered.

She couldn't see who it was, as he was standing in the sun. His posture and tone of voice was annoying. On impulse she turned to Jim, and kissed him on the lips.

The guy snorted and walked off.

"Thanks," Jim said. He gave her a grin and they both laughed.

"You can kiss me again if you like," Bernice demurely spoke.

She trembled from his touch. Her kiss had been a smacker. Nothing more than a demonstration of defiance to an arrogant guy, and to everyone else who had bullied her. Recently and in the past.

His kiss was gentle. She felt a warmth of friendship. She was back to a time of innocence, where first kisses meant something. Their jaws ached as the kiss turned to a full blown devouring duel. Neither wanted to break the deep feeling of togetherness. Both needed to be wanted.

She felt a hand cup her breast. For a moment she demurred, wanting to push it away. Instead she clasped his hand, pressing it tight again a breast. She wasn't wearing a bra, and felt his fingers pinching a nipple. She was warm under the shaded sun, and hot from the intense caresses.

She guided his hand away, knowing he didn't mind, hadn't expected to be allowed such an intimacy. Hardly aware of what she was doing, her hand guided his to her thighs. She was an experienced woman used to receiving more than just a quick fumble. Her body was responding more that intended. She thought to stop it, yet her body denied her the strength.

His hand slid up a bare thigh. A gentle stroking massage, hesitant, and expecting to be thwarted. An exploratory press of fingertips against her panties felt good. Her thighs fell open of their own accord. Fingertips pressed firmly at her crotch. He found a wet patch and rubbed it. A finger caught at the edge of the panties and accidently slipped in.

Bernice sighed around his lips. The pleasing sound encouraged him. With his whole hand he held her sex, gently rubbing it with fingers exploring her crotch. Feeling her hardened clit rubbed, she responded by sucking his tongue into her mouth. He pressed and rubbed her clit harder when she quietly groaned.

She broke away from his mouth to take a deep breath. "Make me cum," she whispered. It was wrong but she couldn't help it. Like Friday night she was too far gone, too out of control, past caring about right and wrong.

She felt a finger push into her. She guided his thumb over her clit. He worked her hard, and slowly. He watched her screwed up face, eyes closed, concentrating on the delicious sensations. After all she had been through, she needed pleasure, and desperately needed a release from the torturous tension.

A wave of tremors fluttered from her tummy, sensitising her breasts, filling her mind with warm feelings, almost like love. "You can stop now," she sighed.