The Knocked Up Lust Bundle (6 page)

It wasn't as though such long looks over her delicious form were uncalled for. Audrey knew she was beautiful. Today, she had on dark green tights and a cute tan skirt on her amazingly long legs. Her top was a white chiffon sweater, doing nothing to hide the generous swell of her 36D breasts. Her elegant hairstyle, feathered and wavy, framed the naturally angelic lines of her sensual face. Men told her all the time, trying to get into her pants, that she should model.

Just because they were trying to fuck her didn’t mean they were wrong—Audrey was gorgeous, and rich, and she loved every second of it.

But, Audrey was
also
glad she was away from Mr. Strong's gaze because of the behavior of the ditzy, awful, beautiful Cindy Heatherton. Cindy—blonde and busty and dressed most often like a pin-up girl (today being no exception)—was doing an awful job of looking for answers on Audrey's test.

Without any consciousness of the watchful eyes of Mr. Strong at all, Cindy leaned over elaborately, her tender young cleavage exposed to the whole aisle in front of her, peering at Audrey’s answers. Audrey, as stated, wasn’t even very
good
at math, making this a poor strategy on a whole other level. If you were going to cheat, at least do it on someone who was actually smart.

“Stop it,” hissed Audrey.

“Just help me out...” Cindy whined.

The blonde couldn’t have possibly been more obvious, leaning over, her pretty little tongue sliding out to the side of her lovely mouth.

Audrey’s heart was pounding, certain they were going to get caught. And then, of course...

They were.

“Ladies,” said Mr. Strong from across the room. “I see you need some more instruction in doing things silently, and alone. Perhaps detention will ease the way. Today. After this period. Two hours.”

Mr. Strong was a tall man with a thick head of dark brown hair and an imposing beard. He looked a little under middle-aged, and had a strong, ripped build like he biked often. In front of Audrey and Cindy, the rest of the class bristled, trying to keep their heads down to also avoid his wrath.

“Two
hours
?” cried Cindy and Audrey together.

“Mr. Strong,” began Audrey, but she was cut off.

“You're right. Perhaps a Saturday is in the works as well?”

Audrey stayed quiet, then, and so did Cindy. Both worked on their tests until the bell rang. When it did, they handed in their work—Audrey was certain she failed. The class filed out, but Audrey and Cindy stayed behind.

“I have to prepare a few things,” Mr. Strong said. “Detention begins in fifteen minutes. Do not be late.”

With that, his hulking, gloomy self stepped out of the room, carrying all his seriousness with him, not to mention any hope Audrey had of ever living the life she wanted.

The problem was that Audrey simply couldn't go to detention today. If she did, she would lose her job.

Petrified, Audrey fled to the hallway, still emptying of happy students looking forward to the weekend. She pulled out her cell phone and called her father.

“I can't make it to work on time today,” she blurted as soon as he picked up. “I'm really sorry, but I got detention.”

“And?” her father asked.

Nothing came as a surprise to her father. He had several children, and he did not appear to like any of them very much. He had conceived Audrey very late in life—over the age of sixty—and believed firmly by that time in creating examples. Her life was now one of those examples.

“And...well, they said if I was late again, I shouldn't bother coming in at all.”

“I see.” She heard him sniff. “Well, this sounds suspiciously like one of those situations that you have created for yourself.”

“Daddy,” she said, whining. “You
can't
push me out of the trust. You just
can't
.”

“On the contrary, my dear. I can do exactly that. In fact, I am legally bound to do so, according to the provisions of the trust. If you do not have a job for the duration of your eighteenth year, at any time, you are no longer to receive any funds at all.”

“That's not
fair
.”

“Oh, really? Was it fair for you to show up so late so many times already? Was it fair to your manager, your co-workers, your customers? Was that fair?”

“Daddeeey...”

The last thing she wanted right now was a lecture.

“Yes?”

“Please, don't do this.”

He sniffed once more. “You did this, dear. I am merely the messenger. Or, if you wish, the enforcer. Goodbye.”

He hung up. Frustrated, Audrey stuffed the phone in her bag, hating him absolutely.

She kicked the nearby locker, denting it and hurting her toe. Hopping around, hating herself and hating everyone else, she saw Cindy surreptitiously standing in the corner next to the row of lockers.

“What are you doing?” said Audrey.

Cindy smiled, twirling her hair. “Nothing.”

“Were you
listening
to my
private
conversation?”

Cindy giggled. “Oh, babes. You're so paranoid! Don't sweat it. I didn't hear anything, all right? I was just chilling, waiting for Mr. Strong to get back.”

“Ugh,” Audrey shook her head. “Whatever. Stay out of my business, all right, slut?”

She didn't wait for a response, heading back into the classroom, teacher or no teacher.

Audrey couldn’t be in detention. She really couldn’t. There was just no way that she could stay there classroom with the idiot eighteen year-old slut Cindy and the imperial wretch, Mr. Strong, while her last chance at living a beautiful, easy life faded away.

The sumptuous, stunning brunette would do anything, anything at all to get out of there.

She just couldn't believe that because of that stupid,
stupid
Cindy, all her trust fund money—through which the eighteen year-old Audrey maintained her incredibly comfortable lifestyle and planned to impress all her future sorority friends at college in the upcoming year—was going to float down the toilet. Or, probably float back to her father somehow.

All those stupid, specific clauses! What did it
matter
if she had a part-time job? What did it
matter
if she had
any
job? She was born
rich
! Didn't that
entitle
her to a better standard of living?

Apparently
not
. Stupid fathers with their stupid rules.

So anyway, she worked at a movie theater downtown ten hours a week, selling and ripping tickets. It was an easy job, and it let her earn the good graces of her friends by giving them free tickets (and drinks and candy too, when she could manage it).

But, she had been late for the last five work sessions, and her friendly-flirtatiousness with the supervisor wasn’t going to help her any longer. She would be fired, and that would be that.

Finally, Mr. Strong re-entered the classroom. He smiled grimly at Audrey, who sat in the back in her normal seat. Cindy followed him in, skipping silently, her head clearly full of air. Mr. Strong pulled out a crossword, working at it diligently, as if it were some enemy to attack.

Sitting at her desk as the clock ticked away at her fate, Audrey couldn’t help but explode inwardly at the unfairness of it all.

No one else was in the classroom with them. Detention for two, apparently—a special evening treat from Mr. Strong.

It wasn’t beyond Audrey’s scope of attention that it just so happened that Mr. Strong had landed himself exclusive time devoted to watching the two hottest girls in the entire high school.

Rumors abounded about Mr. Strong and his nighttime proclivities. One that Audrey found the most interesting, the most fascinating, was that he regularly boned a rotation of three or four teachers. Married ones included.

She shifted in her seat, thinking about that as she pulled out her homework. She may as well get started on
some
work.

Some of the stories about Mr. Strong implied that he was screwing so many teachers to keep other teachers from finding out—and some of the other stories implied that he was so indescribably good at fucking and corralling women that the hot teachers just flocked to him.

Cindy, hot cheerleader that she was, was hot in the way a lot of cheerleaders was hot—she was perky, pretty, blond, and available. Her enormous bust only advertised even more loudly than normal her overflowing sexuality. Practically every outfit of hers sang out, “You can fuck me, you just have to be able to keep up with me first.”

Her outfit that day certainly spoke to that effect. Thigh-high blue socks with horizontal white stripes led into clear acrylic stripper-like platform heels. Her denim shorts, tight and blue, hugged her sexy tanned thighs. Her pink thong panties were pulled up over her skirt, resting on the ridges of her perfectly formed abdomen.

Her top was a pink football-style jersey with her boyfriend’s number eighteen on it—though Audrey suspected that was to advertise to any onlookers that she was, in fact, eighteen, and she could totally be fucked legally if you just asked nicely enough. The jersey had, of course, been modified so that it had a substantially deep neckline. Collected on her desk was a loose green hoodie that she wasn't wearing.

It was an outfit that completely shattered the school’s dress code, but Cindy, of course, got away with it somehow. Probably by strategically putting on her green hoodie whenever she sensed an assistant principal swinging around.

And, probably also because, despite all her other shortcomings,  Cindy really was a hell of a cheerleader. She had led the team into the state championships and won for the past three years running.

As Cindy sat in her chair, doing absolutely no homework at all, she had pulled out a bright red cherry lollypop, sucking and slurping on it loudly.

Ugh, though Audrey.

Could she
be
more obviously a slut?

Trying to focus on her homework—not a single problem done, still—and not the clock that spelled out her impending doom, Audrey sighed and tapped her pencil on the desk.

“Psst,” said Cindy, from across the aisle.

“Seriously?” whispered Audrey. “’Psst?’ Did you just ‘psst’ at me?”

“It got your attention, didn’t it? Listen, I have to—”

“Ladies,” Mr. Strong interrupted, looking up from his crossword. “Are you seriously talking again, when you’re being punished already for having spoken too much?”

Cindy leaned forward in her desk, her bountiful cleavage shown off in her tiny, tight pink jersey. “Gosh, Mr. Strong. We’re both
really
sorry. We should have asked first—”

“Incorrect. You should not have said anything at all. This is study hall, not conversation time.”

Cindy pouted. “But we
are
studying! We have the same English class, and we have a project due next week. We were trying to be prepared.”

Say what you will about Cindy—Audrey certainly did—but the girl had a knack for knowing how to get out of trouble.

“Right,” said Audrey, getting the idea. “We really just need to figure out what gerunds are, and like also, how to dangle modifiers, and all that jazz.”

Mr. Strong twitched. He obviously wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

“Very well. For ten minutes, you may confer. But the best work, and the brunt of it, will be done on your own.”

“Ten minutes?” Audrey exclaimed. “Sir, I must protest—”

“You can do so all you like. In your head. For now, you have nine minutes and forty-five seconds remaining.” He paused, considering. “Keep your voices down.”

A few moments passed, and then, feeling the impulse to capitalize, Audrey spoke up again, “Thank you, Sir.”

Mr. Strong smiled and gave her a slight nod, returning to his militant crossword work.

“’Thank you, Sir,’” Cindy mocked.

“Shut up. You started it. Why are you doing all of this anyway?”

“I
have
to get out of here,” Cindy said.

Audrey's interest was suddenly piqued. “What do you mean?”

“You know my boyfriend, right? Galen?”

Audrey did. He was commonly thought of as the biggest stud in school. As the star running back for the football team, it was easy to see why. Audrey, though, usually preferred quieter, more serious men.

“Sure.”

“Well, he thinks I’ve been cheating on him. And we were going to meet up today, and I was gonna give him an extra special blowjee to make it all up to him. But if I’m late, he’ll think I’m cheating on him again.”

“So? Just tell him you got detention.”

“That’s what I’ve
been
telling him when—”

She stopped, her gorgeous face a bit surprised at herself.

“When what?” Audrey puzzled for a moment, and then, “Oh. You mean you
have
been cheating on him.”

Cindy’s lovely face turned blazing red. “
Shut up
!” she hissed.

Audrey shrugged. “Look, I don’t care, all right? Cheat on him, don’t cheat on him. It’s all your business. Not mine.”

“That’s right!”

“Okay, I need to get out of here too.”

“Who have you been cheating on?”

“No, you stupi—” Audrey composed herself. “No. I have to leave or else I’ll get fired.”

“Fired?”

“Yeah, you know. From my job? Where I work?”

Cindy seemed truly puzzled. “Why don’t you just get money from your boyfriend? You’re deffos pretty enough to land a rich guy.”

“I’m already rich!”

Giggling, Cindy nodded. “Oh yeah, that’s right. So how come you got a job, then?”

“Because if I don’t, then I get kicked out of the trust fund my father set up. He wants to teach me responsibility or something equally lame.”

“Oh,” Cindy nodded, making a face. “I’m sorry. That sounds rough.”

“Anyway, it’s the only job I’ve ever been able to keep for longer than like, a day. So I have to get there, and now.”

“Right, okay...” Cindy said, putting a hand to her head. “I’ve got it!”

“You do? That’s great!”

So impressed with Cindy’s sudden cognitive abilities, Audrey was ready to take back all the negative things she had ever said about Cindy for the last several years.