Larihigh Posted October 6, 2004 Posted October 6, 2004 My first experience in study hall awakened my fetish for high heels. Miss M. provided me the vehicle that has taken me on a long trip, sometimes exciting, and sometimes somewhat disappointing. In my last story, I finished the year in study hall and was hoping for some way to see more of Miss M. other than in the hallway. The second semester of that year provided me that opportunity. The second semester class signups were on. Scanning through the classes, I discovered that Miss M. would be teaching an art class. I was somewhat of an artist and worked on the school paper. I think I was the first to sign up for the class. The first class day was a disappointment. The art room was large, with lots of space for projects. The teacher's desk was just that. A desk. With a full "modesty panel", with no opportunity to sneak long looks at Miss M.'s pumps. At her desk she was in a fortress, her sexy shoes hidden from my eyes. Nevertheless, she did spend time clicking around the room, with individual help, comments and suggestions. Since she roamed, the chance for me to take those long looks at her were just about impossible. It would have been so obvious that I just about gave up. Miss M., however, gave me a terriffic opportunity. I was involved in a project that required the lettering of large posters for pep rallys. These were so large that the posters would not fit on any of the project tables in the room. My work would be done on the floor. Incredible. With the inevitable Miss M. walking around, checking on her students' progress, I was sure to see her close up. Another disappointment. On the first two days, she wore flats! Flat Mary Janes. I could not believe this was happening to me. On that Friday, the work had to be competed. I hoped that I could get a good look at her pumps before I was off the floor and back at a table again. Friday morning, I got a glimpse of her walking into school. She was wearing the black suede pumps! My heart stopped. Class was just before lunch and I suffered through the morning. I walked into class and began my work on the floor. I worked slowly, hoping for a walkaround by Miss M. About halfway thorough the class, she came by. She said she was concerned that the posters would not be finished. I had a flash...maybe I knew this all the time. I told her I had a free period in the afternoon and perhaps I could return to finish up. She was enthusiastic and told me that would be perfect. That afternoon I went to the boys' room and prepared myself for what I hoped would be a climatic afternoon. On the way to the class, I could hardly contain myself. I entered the room and she was there, working on something at a table. She was standing and her back was to me. I slowly with great diligence, took in the sight of her seamed stockings and the heels. I was at attention. She turned and smiled and said something about how this was great that I could finish before the rally this Friday evening. I got down on the floor and began to work, sweating. My heart was pounding. I positioned myself so I got a great look at her across the room, her back to me. I had the deepest desire to do more. But I didn't have to. Soon, she turned and walked towards me... clik-clik-clik More below....
Larihigh Posted October 6, 2004 Author Posted October 6, 2004 Miss M. clicked right on over to me. She stopped about 1 foot from me. "How is it coming?" "Great" "Do you mind if I watch" "NO!" (please stay right there, don't move) She didn't move. I looked at her pumps. and her feet and at her arches and I was consumed. One foot away! That vision burned into my brain. To this day I can still see those shoes, the veins in her foot, the arch cleaveage, a little toe cleavage, the slight stocking wrinkles. I don't think I did any work at all. I just stared at her shoes. She moved just a little, canting one of her shoes to the side, a very suggestive move, I thought. I returned to trying to fake some work. But I returned to her shoes and just stared. She asked, "Is there anything wrong?" I replied, "No..." She said, "I like the lettering that you do. It is very bold and stands out." I said, "Thanks" She started to talk about another project she was working on that needed a number of students to do modelling of clothes. I wasn't listening much, I was kind of working and staring. She walked back an forth a bit, and then struck a kind of pose, with one of her feet way out in front of her, the sole of her pump right on the floor, to stretch her foot and calf to the max. I just stared and began to feel what was inevitable. I tried to think of something else. I looked down and the poster. I finally stifled the rising storm. I now had to finish this work, and that I did for the next 30 minutes or so. Miss M. walked casually away and sat in a chair about 5 feet from me. She crossed her legs and began that slow up and down with the toe of her lovely pump. She went through basically the same leg and shoe show that I had seen her do two semesters ago! I waited for the scratch. And then it happened. She reached down and laguidly scratched her arch with just a single finger. And, incredibly, that finger went to her heel. With that finger and thumb, she grasped the heel and moved the shoe back on her foot...by the heel. She lightly touched the heel. I could not hold back any longer. This episode was probably the longest that I had experienced up to then and ever since. Totally unassisted, a spontaneous outburst that had me shuddering. Time stopped and finally she said, "Looks like you're finished." I was. I stood up. She looked down and smiled. She went to her desk and sat. She told me that she was glad that I helped out, that the posters were finished and would like me to consider this modelling project. I said thanks too, and said that I would probably like to do it for her. I went out to the hall. I looked down, and to my horror, I saw a wet spot where the handkerchief did not quite do the job. I was horrified, thrilled and excited, all at once. She knew EXACTLY what she was doing, and was encouraging me even more! I went to the boys' room and tried to clean up the mess, and did a reasonable job of it. Splashed some water all over my pants as if one of the faucets sprayed me. Art class was good.
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