by Frank Martinet
Designer Jeans
Eliza was so excited about Friday that she could hardly sleep. For the first time in months she'd be able to wear whatever she wanted to school. She was still really annoyed that her parents had forced her into such a conservative private school. The uniforms couldn't have been any uglier and old-fashioned - plain black skirts and jackets with boring white blouses - and the teachers were so damned strict. Why if your skirt was even an inch too high you got your bare thighs whacked with the ruler Sister Margie measured with - and those marks were visible to everyone since the witch placed them below the hemline on purpose.
Of course, that wasn't as bad as a real uniform violation. Wearing the wrong skirt or top earned you a sound slippering, but if you were brazen enough to defy the rules and wear jeans to school - as Eliza had foolishly done earlier in the semester - that got you six of the best with Sister Edna's long cane. Eliza could almost still feel those red-hot bars searing into her plump buttocks. Ouch, that had been hell.
But tomorrow was 'No uniform day', the one day of the year when the girls could wear whatever they wanted. Eliza was so excited. She'd been shopping for a week and had finally settled on a pair of expensive designer jeans that made her ass look like dynamite and a cashmere burgundy top that fit her like a second skin. The combo was breezily casual and yet elegant, and it revealed Eliza's trim waist and lovely pert breasts. She couldn't wait to see all the admiring glances she'd receive. She'd finally be able to show off her incredible body someplace other than the showers after gym.
For once she was up before her alarm, actually excited to go to school. After months of wearing the exact same outfit every day - a death sentence to a fashionable girl like Eliza - she was free. Even she was a little surprised at how such a little thing changed her perspective. Her parents noticed at breakfast and were pleased by her attitude, though initially concerned about her dress.
"Why aren't you dressed for school, dear?" asked her mother.
"I am, Mom."
"What? But you can't wear that. Where's your uniform?"
Jerry looked up from his paper and frowned at his daughter. "Didn't you get the cane for wearing jeans a couple of months ago?"
"Yes, Dad, but today is different. It's 'No uniform day'. We can all wear whatever we want."
"Really? That doesn't sound like St. Martha's," said Doris, Eliza's mother.
"It's not literally whatever you want; there are certain standards. No miniskirts, for instance."
"Hmm. I guess that makes sense. How often do they do this day?"
"Just once each semester." Eliza bit into a slice of toast and was reprimanded by her father, who reminded her they hadn't said grace yet. She chaffed as she had to wait while the quick prayer was said. Then she gulped down her food, barely tasting the eggs, and rushed to brush her teeth and head off to school.
She checked herself in the mirror one last time and was pleased at what she saw. She was not particularly tall, though her slenderness made her seem taller. The tight top had her breasts looking like two bullets up high under the low neckline, and it narrowed into a neat vee at her waist. It was short so if she lifted her arms it left a gap that revealed her belly button.
Sexy, she thought, pleased.
Her hips were modest, but wider than her waist, flaring out slightly at the base of her rear. The faded blue jeans were taut across the curves. When she rotated to study her profile, she saw a perfect half-circle butt. She tried to find a flaw but couldn't, as the smooth fabric showed off both twin globes to absolute perfection. With no rear pockets on the jeans, the denim might as well have been flesh it was so snug. With her high-heeled boots the bum really thrust out and there was plenty of sway in the hips when she moved.
"Perfect!" she said out loud. She adjusted her long brown hair so that a few strands trailed in the front and the rest spread down her back and then she departed for school.
Today Eliza had Corson, her driver, drop her off right in front of the main entrance. She didn't always, but today she was going to make an entrance. She boldly exited the vehicle, long purse draped over one shoulder. She hadn't brought her book bag, which would probably get in her trouble in a few classes as she'd left her math and history books at home, but it was worth it. She didn't want anything spoiling her look.
She was a little early; there weren't many at school yet, or at least not clustered out front. She saw a few girls wearing the ugly black skirts and tops the old-fashioned school forced them to wear and she wondered why in the world they weren't taking advantage of 'No uniform day'.
They probably just don't have a sense of style like me, she thought smugly. Maybe they've been dressed as penguins for so long they don't even know how to not wear the uniform.
The few girls she spotted weren't important ones in the social hierarchy anyway. Eliza didn't care a whit what they thought or did. She strode on into the school, feeling astonished eyes gazing at her and relishing their admiration and jealousy. God she felt great. It was incredible to be free of those dreary black prison clothes for at least a few hours.
She spotted a few more girls inside. All were in uniform, which was weird, but then they were studious intellectual types. She wanted to find her friends, especially the haughty and obscenely wealthy Chelsea Carlisle. Eliza couldn't wait to see the jealousy smoldering in the pretty blonde's face.
She was still lost in that vision when a heavy hand descended on her shoulder, spinning her around. She was discombobulated for a moment, and anger flared as she spat, "What the hell-"
She froze, looking up at Sister Margie. The sour-faced elderly woman was gripping the stout 18-inch ruler she used to measure girls' skirts and she waved it under Eliza's cute little nose.
"You watch your language, young lady," she scolded. "Now just what is the meaning of this?" The ruler waved over Eliza's outfit like a screening wand at an airport security check.
"There's nothing wrong with it," Eliza said defiantly. "I checked the rulebook. Everything's within the guidelines."
"What are you talking about? You're wearing jeans and a trollop top!"
Before Eliza could protest, gnarly steel fingers gripped her arm so hard it hurt and began dragging her toward the administrative offices. No doubt she was being led to Sister Edna's study.
"Let me go! I didn't do anything wrong. You have no right!"
But the old woman was as stubborn as a gnat. She was deaf to the teen's protests and jerked her along the corridor. Eliza's face flushed as she passed fellow students, girls laughing and grinning and pointing. She tried to walk with dignity, though that was difficult with the woman's rapid pace and Eliza's high-heeled boots.
In two minutes they were standing before Sister Edna, right as the ten-minute warning bell rang. Edna was younger than Sister Margie, but at forty-something she still seemed old to teenage Eliza. The headmistress would have been attractive in a different outfit and without her stern and unforgiving manner. She frowned at the girl before her.
"What sort of insubordination is this?" she growled. "One caning for not wearing your uniform wasn't enough for you, Perkins?"
Eliza pushed away from Sister Margie and stood defiantly in front of the Head. "You can't cane me. It's 'No uniform day'. What I'm wearing is within the rules. I checked the booklet."
Sister Edna wrinkled her brow. "What are you talking about?"
"She's been spouting nonsense like that since I caught her," put in Sister Margie. "She's lost it."
"I've got the rules right here," said Eliza, exasperated at the hassle. She fished in her purse and produced the pamphlet. It was a neat little pocket-sized 32-page booklet of St. Martha's Academy rules. Eliza flipped right to the well-worn section on the school's clothing policies. She pointed to subsection 13.3, Dress Code for 'No Uniform Day'.
"See? I told you. Jeans are permitted. And my top isn't showing cleavage."
Edna stared at the booklet as though she'd never seen it before. Sister Margie stepped forward to study it as well. The two flipped through the pages quickly.
"Where'd you get this?"
"Huh? It was in with all my other welcome stuff."
"I'm afraid there's been some sort of fraud," said the headmistress. "This isn't the St. Martha's student manual. It's very similar, but it's not the real one. There's no such thing as 'No uniform day' and what you're wearing is definitely against school rules."
It was Eliza's turn to be shocked. Her mouth fell open. "What? That can't be right! It's in the book right there!"
The headmistress went to a cabinet and removed a similar booklet, though this one was thicker and the paper was different. She placed it next to the other one and it was suddenly clear that the facsimile was a simple laser-printed copy.
"Someone has played a trick on you," said Sister Edna. "Quite elaborate and clever, actually."
"Those bitches!" roared Eliza, her cheeks red with fury.
"Language!" reminded Sister Margie.
"Unfortunately, though you've been the victim of a prank, that doesn't change the reality of the situation," continued the headmistress. "The whole school has seen you arriving dressed as you are and such blatant disrespect cannot go unpunished, prank or not."
Eliza became alarmed. "You can't punish me," she said vehemently. "I didn't do anything wrong."
"You know the uniform code and you were already punished once this semester for violating it, so you can't plead ignorance."
"But I thought it was 'No uniform day,'" sobbed Eliza, still pink with rage. "It's not fair to punish me for that!"
"You are guilty of using poor judgment. Don't you think if there was such a thing as 'No uniform day' the whole school would be dressed differently? Wouldn't there be posters and such up everywhere?"
"Chelsea said you don't like to make a big deal about it, and she said a lot of girls don't bother to change."
"And you fell for that?"
Eliza seethed, half at herself for being so foolish as to be conned, and half at Chelsea and the other bitches who'd tricked her. Then her anger turned to terror when she saw Sister Edna was retrieving a long brown cane from the wall behind her desk.
"Oh no! Not the cane, you can't!"
"I have no choice, dear. I can't be seen being lenient." She sighed. "If you'd been less blatant in your insubordination, say if you'd worn a colored shirt under your vest, I might have been able to be a little forgiving, but you didn't wear any part of your uniform at all and the whole school knows it. If I don't punish you severely, I'll lose my authority."
"But-" Eliza's mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. Her mind wasn't working very swiftly either. The whole world was red except for the awful stick the woman held in her hands. The girl couldn't take her eyes off it. She remembered how much it had hurt last time and tears filled her eyes. "Please," she blubbered. "Please!"
"Last time I was generous with you because you were new and it was a first offense," said Sister Edna. "I caned you over your pants, didn't I?"
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