While the girls may be able to help you and quickly, the idea of having two young girls, your own students, either seeing you in alluring undergarments or touching some of your more intimate areas is more than enough to make their help the very last thing you want. In fact, that's all the reason to let no one help. However, you certainly can't stay like this.
You put on a half-hearted smile and say, "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll manage on my own in the teacher's lounge."
"Alright," Melanie replies. "Do you know the way to the teacher's lounge, or would you like an escort?"
Both girls smile brightly, almost seeming eager to help you through this situation. It takes all your will to say no to such faces, but you manage to do it and walk out the door, leaving them behind. You quickly smile at this decision, the cola is soaking your front and makes your bra show through. Fortunately, you still have the coat, which isn't even remotely transparent when wet, so it hides the worst of this episode.
After an uneventful walk that no one notices, you make your way into the teacher's lounge. The only paradise in the school, complete with a sink, refrigerator, private restroom, coffee maker and beans, sofa, a fan, and soda machine. Horny teenagers and delinquents who trash a cafeteria daily most certainly can't be trusted with such luxuries. In fact, even the janitors aren't allowed in here during school hours and the teachers either leave the problems of the lounge until after hours or take care of them themselves using the supplies in the closet. Despite this, according to the principal, teachers never lock the door, even when there's nobody in here. The window in the door was barely bigger than a human face and gave a view in of nothing but a wall a couple of feet away no matter which way you looked through it; the fear of not knowing if the room was empty is the only thing needed to stop the students and janitors.
With the lounge all yours, you start up the sink and promptly strip off your jacket, skirt, and blouse. You submerge your clothes in the soapy water and begin scrubbing away with a fresh piece of steel wool. It takes a while for you to see any progress, but before long the stain in your jacket begins to come out. What's more, that "while" was a matter of perception, it only took you five minutes; the short amount of time to work with and the hard work you're exerting just made it seem longer.You should be fine in time for class, especially if you leave your clothes to dry over the fan.
However, your luck takes a nose dive now. You hear the door knob begin to rattle and turn slowly. You look down, and finally register the sight in your head. A brunette in a black lace bra that gave her massive mammaries massive cleavage, matching french cut panties that flashed her ass to the world, and a pair of black lace stockings and heels to make her legs look amazing. In a house or apartment as a woman, this would be what wet dreams are made of. In a school as a teacher, this is what pink slips are made of.
You step out of your heels, pick them up, and quietly run into the closet. With the door mostly shut, you slowly and carefully lower yourself down and sit your exposed ass on the rough carpet, catching the groans or pain before they escape your lips. You peek out the crack in the door you left open and spy the person who entered the lounge.
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