Invisible Girl (An Erotic Romance), Pt. 6

Chapter Nine

“Have you ever wanted to be invisible?”

Jane had been waiting in line to get into the cafeteria for lunch when the sound of his voice made her start and turn around…to find him standing behind her and pretending to read the book he held open in his hands.

She had never told him about being the Invisible Girl.  

She still often felt invisible when she wasn’t with him, especially when she was at home.  But it seemed to her that lately, she was gradually, if sporadically, becoming more visible.  

She had, of course, started paying more attention to her clothing for his sake.  Recently, however, she had also started removing her glasses when she didn’t absolutely need them, such as between classes, or now, at lunchtime.  She had even started wearing a lighter version of the make-up she had worn the night of the dance.

And somehow that had been enough to bring her into focus for some people.  Two girlfriends with whom she had hardly spoken since high school  had sat down with her at lunch and begun talking with her as if no time at all had passed, and had even invited her to a slumber party one of them was having.  Boys she hardly knew sometimes said hello to her in the hallway, greeting her by name, which shocked her.  Another girl she knew had come up to her and told her that a certain boy had asked her to find out if Jane was going out with anyone.  She‘d had no idea how to reply and had finally muttered something vaguely meant to be discouraging.

And just yesterday she had stood in front of her English class and read an essay, and while she still found the experience unnerving it hadn’t been absolutely petrifying.  The teacher had even complimented her on the improvement in her delivery.  As she sat down she’d noticed that she was actually breathing somewhat normally.  She’d wondered, half-seriously, if being a slave could somehow give a person more confidence.

But her relationship with Peter was something she definitely wanted to keep invisible.  So it seemed a violation of their agreement to hear him speak to her in public like this, even if he was pretending he hadn’t. 

But it was kind of fun, too, like spies pretending not to know each other as they exchanged secret codes.  There was no one behind him and, checking, she saw that the two girls in front of her were engaged in animated discussion.  She moved away from them somewhat, turned her head slightly as if looking at something down the hall, and replied, barely moving her lips:  “Sometimes.  Why?”

Without looking up from his book, he replied, in the same fashion, “Oh, I was just thinking how cool it would be if you and I were both invisible right now.”

“Why?”

He darted a quick glance and smile at her.  “Because then you could lift up your dress, right here in front of everybody.  And I could get down in front of you…and kiss your thighs…pull down your panties…and lick your pussy.  You look very nice, by the way.”

And with that he had closed his book and walked casually away, as if he’d suddenly decided the line was too long, leaving her as red-faced with embarrassment—and desire—as if he’d spoken loud enough for everyone around her to hear.

Later that afternoon she found him in the library, sitting in her favorite place.  She thought for a moment.  Then she walked towards him, as if she were going to speak to him—she saw him glance up at her in surprise—but instead swerved all the way behind him and continued on until she was in the part of the room that was hidden from the rest of the library by bookshelves.  This area was, as usual, deserted.  She stopped and turned towards where he was sitting.  She saw him shift his position so that he could see her while still appearing to be reading his book.

Then, holding his gaze, she reached down with both hands and slowly began to lift up her dress, watching his expression as she gradually exposed first her panties, then her belly, and finally her bra.  She cupped her breasts with both hands and toyed with them for a moment, then continued to hold up her dress with one hand while the other slid sensuously down over her belly to slide slowly in and out between her legs a few times.

Then she simply let her dress fall back into place and walked out of the library.

Chapter Ten

The next morning as Jane walked into her first class of the day her teacher handed her an envelope.  It was official Ridgeton Community College stationery—the return address was embossed in the upper left-hand corner—and her name was typed in the address section. 

Inside it was a form letter telling Jane that she was scheduled for a “Disciplinary Hearing” with her Student Advisor that afternoon.

For a moment her mind went completely blank.  She hadn’t known there was such a thing as a Student Advisor at Ridgeton and could not for the life of her recall anything she had done that would require a meeting with this one.  

When she examined the form more closely, however, she saw that she was to report to a “Mr. Peters”.  And in the section marked “Reason for Meeting” was written, “Being a very bad little girl.”

Oh god, he was going to punish her again.  Make her do humiliating things.  Spank her.  Or worse.  

She could hardly wait.

All day long—and the day seemed extremely long, crawling by with excruciating slowness—she would suddenly snap back to the present and realize that she had again drifted off into a fantasy, combining elements of things he had done to her with feverish imaginings of things that he might do, or make her do.  

She had to restrain herself from sneaking off into the girls’ bathroom to touch herself; she wanted to let the anticipation build.  Near the end of the day she did allow herself to visit there, but only to use the toilet, and to check her appearance.  She hoped he would like the way she was dressed (He was so cute to say that yesterday, right after talking so dirty to her.) in a rose-print blouse, matching dark red skirt and a wide black belt, plus her usual penny loafers and white knee socks.

When the school day finally ended she had to force herself to dawdle, to take her time closing up her books and putting away her notebooks and pens and glasses while the classroom emptied out, when what she wanted to do was simply jump up and run to find the room designated on the meeting form.  

She wanted to see him looking at her as she took her clothes off…hear him telling her to do things she shouldn’t do…feel him violating her with his fingers and his cock.  When she finally stood up to leave she could hardly walk for the quivering sensation between her legs.

She made her way with deliberate slowness down the hall to her locker and stored all her books and supplies there.  Then she followed the classroom numbers until she reached the back part of the building, where she found the one she was looking for.

The window in the door was covered over from the inside with pink construction paper, on which the words “Yearbook Staff” had been scrawled in black magic marker.  Ah.  Peter had been on the yearbook staff, and although the yearbook was now complete he would still have a key.  After quickly making sure there was no one around, she knocked.

When the door opened, though, she thought she must have come to the wrong room by mistake.  The man who opened the door was obviously college faculty, judging by the badly fitting blue suit and striped tie, the slicked-down hair and the heavy, black-framed eyeglasses.  She wondered for one panic-stricken moment if this really was Mr. Peters, a faculty member she hadn’t seen before.

But then she remembered the “bad little girl” line on her form and simultaneously noticed that the somber glasses frames had no lenses in them.  Oh god, it was…

“Miss Harkin?  I’m Mr. Peters.  Come in, please.”

He held the door open for her and shut it behind her as she walked in.  The front half of the room looked like any classroom in the school: an old wooden desk and chair; a blackboard running the length of the wall behind them; and facing them, several rows of combination chair-desks.  The back of the room held the only residual evidence of yearbook activity: several long tables littered with layout sheets, rulers, scissors, marking pencils and glue.  The back wall held a chaotic montage of black & white photos in various sizes.  The venetian blinds at the far side of the room were closed.

“Sit right there, Miss Harkin,” he said, gesturing to the seat directly facing the wooden desk.

“Yes, Mr. Peters,” she replied, trying not to smile.  She sat, and looked at him expectantly.

He pulled out the wooden chair and sat down at the desk, facing her.  He opened the book that was lying there, and began to read.

For a few moments she simply sat there looking at him, enjoying his transformation.  She thought he must have borrowed the glasses, and probably the suit, from the drama department.  The heavy black frames, combined with the cheap suit, the longish sideburns and the slick hair, made him look more like an intellectual gangster than a faculty member, really.  It was so cute!  

But…when was he going to do something to her?

All day long she’d been imagining walking into a room like this and immediately being made to bend over, or kneel in front of him, or something.  The quivering sensation between her legs had only increased since she’d sat down.  She wanted him to come kneel in front of her and spread her legs apart with his hands, to kiss and nuzzle her there…

He turned a page.

Minutes went by.

He turned another page.

Was this some kind of reverse punishment?  To let her imagine all kinds of things, get herself all worked up, and then ignore her?

When he turned another page she was ready to scream.  Instead, she forced herself to think.  

After a moment she lifted her feet onto the metal rung between the front chair legs.  Then she put her head down as if tired, resting it in the crook of her left arm and leaving her right hand lying in her lap.

She waited until she heard him turn another page.  Then, little by little, as if dozing and unaware, she allowed her knees to begin drifting apart.  Soon her legs were gaping, giving him, she believed, a clear view up her skirt.  She wished she’d worn something prettier than the plain yellow cotton panties she had on, knowing how much he liked such things, but at least they went with her outfit.

She waited.

And heard him turn a page.

Hmm…

She allowed her right hand to creep forward, grasp the hem of her skirt and pull it, by infinitesimal degrees, up to her waist so that her panties were almost completely exposed.  He could hardly pretend he didn’t notice now.

Another page was turned.

O-kay, she thought.  

She slowly slipped her hand between her legs and began to caress herself, not caring if he was watching or not.  

She called up the memory of being tied to a chair in this position, her skirt up like this.  Imagined him standing before her, touching her there with the conductor’s baton.  Remembered that day in the library, touching herself under the table while he watched.  Remembered her panties suddenly sliding down her legs, the feel of his lips there, his tongue sliding up and down…

“Miss Harkin!”

She sat up so quickly that she felt dizzy for a moment and it took several seconds to focus on “Mr.