Academy's Pervert in the D Class

Saturday evening sat warm over the clothier’s street.

Gold light came through the shop’s front panes and lay across bolts of cotton, wool, house linen, and the little rack of dyed lace at the back.

Olivia pushed the door open with her shoulder.

Cool air hit the sweat at her neck.

Her light brown bob stuck a little at her temples.

She wore a tight light blue blouse that stretched across her breasts, the cloth pulling at the buttons when she breathed, and black pants that sat snug on her from waist to thigh.

Every crease showed.

The fabric clung over the full curve of her hips and tucked in under each cheek when she walked, her ass moving with each step, the faint line of her panties sitting under the cloth.

She tugged the blouse down once because it kept riding up off her stomach, and went for the academy uniform wall first.

Two replacement blouses.

Regulation slacks.

A casual house dress that would not look sloppy if someone knocked.

She held a pair of slacks up against her waist and frowned. The sample was cut narrow.

Behind the curtain she had to hop to get them over her thighs.

The waist closed and the seat refused to.

The cloth dug into the fullest part of her ass and showed every line of her through the back.

She muttered under her breath, stripped them off, and took a size up.

Those hung a little at the waist and still caught on her thighs when she bent to pick her own pants up off the stool.

Getting back into the black pair took another wriggle. She had to hop again.

The tight cloth climbed her legs and settled back into the same snug shape, panty line visible over both hips when she turned to the glass.

She bent to read a price charm hanging off a low hook.

The pants stretched.

The panty line showed clearer at the top of both cheeks.

Olivia caught it in the side glass when she stood and her face went hot.

She yanked the blouse down as if that would fix the pants, grabbed her pile, and moved on.

Underwear next.

Plain shifts. Two pairs of everyday panties.

She was putting those on the counter stack when the orange lingerie set stopped her.

It hung at the end of the lace rack by itself.

Thin straps.

A bralette cut so low the cups were more suggestion than cover, the orange almost glowing in the lamp light.

The matching panties were small, the front panel a narrow triangle, the sides nothing but string.

Held up, the whole set looked like it would cover almost nothing once it was on a body.

Olivia’s hand went out before she finished thinking.

The lace was rough-soft between her fingers. She glanced at the tall mirror on the fitting post.

No one was looking.

She pulled the curtain most of the way and held the bralette against her light blue blouse first.

The orange sat over the stretched cloth and made her chest look barer than it already did.

Then she lifted the blouse just high enough to set the cups over her own breasts.

In the glass the color turned her skin warmer. The thin lace did not hide the shape of her nipples.

She imagined the straps on her shoulders instead of the blouse, the little panties instead of the tight black pants, the strings sitting high on her hips and leaving the rest of her uncovered.

For a second she even pictured turning in the mirror, looking over her own shoulder, seeing how little the back would cover.

Her ears went hot.

She took the set off her body as if it had burned her, hung it back a little crooked, and scooped up the boring pile.

"Not today," she told herself, quiet, and joined the line.

Two people stood ahead of her.

The clerk clicked an abacus.

Cedar and new cloth filled the air.

Olivia shifted her weight from foot to foot. The black pants kept pulling across her ass when she moved.

"Olivia."

She knew the voice before she turned. It made her name sound like a joke that had already landed.

Lila.

A student from class C.

Tight ponytail. Sharp dark eyes. That straight, precise way of standing.

Joren at her shoulder, tall, collar open, the easy smirk already in place.

Something ugly turned in Olivia’s stomach. She kept her face polite.

"How are you doing?" Lila asked.

"Fine," Olivia said. "Thank you."

She turned back to the line.

Lila stepped in closer anyway.

"The Magic spells test.? Are you preparing for it? Or did Class D already spend all its luck on one written paper?"

Joren gave a low laugh.

"So tell me honestly Olivia. Was it Luck? Or Miss Silvia passed you all the questions. That would explain the jump. Our Master Toren will smell it soon anyway, and when he does, your teacher is finished."

Olivia’s fingers tightened on the folded slacks. She still did not raise her voice.

"Miss Silvia did not pass anyone anything. We sat with the books. We worked. The scores were fair."

"Oh yes?" Joren said.

He leaned in, trying to intimidate her.

"One hundred twenty-two minus twenty-three."

Olivia paused for a moment. Her eyebrows frowned.

"Ninety-Nine"

She hated that she answered. She also refused to look slow in front of them.

Lila’s mouth curved.

"Nine times eight."

Olivia took another second. She would not rush and trip.

"Seventy-two."

Joren bent toward Lila and whispered, not quietly enough.

"Is she right?"

Lila nodded once, irritated.

She wasn’t sure of the answer either.

Olivia saw it. The politeness in her throat started to taste bad.

Lila’s hand shoved her shoulder.

The slacks slipped. A blouse hit the floor. People in line turned.

"Don’t get cocky," Lila said, louder now, for the shop.

"You cheated. There is no version of this where Class D writes above single digits unless someone fed you the paper. Two sums in a shop do not make you clever."

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