The Perils of Photography
On the Open Night in question, midway through my fifth year at Wednesbury Comprehensive, I was still fifteen years old, but I had, thanks to a growth spurt in the summer, become one of the tallest boys in school.
This was the Spring of 1978; punk music blasted from every radio, and pogoing was the dance of choice at every school disco.
The school that I attended was a pretty rough one, in a pretty rough area, and it was only when I became physically intimidating that the endemic bullying began to pass me by, allowing me to enjoy school for the first time.
With my extra inches I had also received a decent amount of facial hair, and, combined with my slightly wild sandy mop top, I was attractive enough to do fairly well with the girls. I only regretted that Mom wouldn't let me pierce my ears.
On school Open Night's the older pupils were expected to either specify an activity they would be involved in, or else be available to shepherd parents around the school, answering whatever idiotic questions they might come up with. As I was regarded as more articulate than most, and had been made a prefect at the beginning of the school year in September, this latter task was assigned to me.
I could not think of a more boring way to spend the evening.
In a last vain attempt to get out of the job I tried to attach myself to the Chemistry crowd, who were playing with dry ice and gun cotton, but Mr Stanley told me that all of the places had been taken, and to get out.
Then I tried to join in the football demonstration, but Mr Ball told me that already had an even number so I was not needed, and to get out.
I considered joining the German speakers in there conversational demonstration, but frankly I was crap at languages, so, before Miss Bell could, I told myself to get out.
Where could I hide away? I was totally at a loss; my best subject was English and, apart from some examples of essays that had been placed on the wall, that department wasn't involved in the Open Night.
I resigned myself to the dullest of evenings with multiple groups of parents, and, as I was in the science block, I started to head towards the courtyard, to go to my House room. I was sure that Miss Watson, my house mistress, was already looking for me.
I wasn't really looking where I was walking as I pushed through the double doors that led to the outside world, so when I bounced off springy flesh I had no idea who I had collided with.
“I'm really sorry..” I started, before I realised it was just a girl from my year; from my House actually. “Bloody hell, Ann, I thought I'd downed a parent!”
Ann was a few inches shorter than me, with dark good looks; her black hair was always tidy, although it was arranged to cover one side of her face, and her body was full-figured. Not overweight, but with all of the curves that you might want, in all of the right places, just like the femme fatale in a classic noir movie.
Her chest was snugly encamped within her green blouse, over which she wore the standard black blazer; her legs emerged from a black knee length skirt, and were covered in dark grey tights. Ah, school uniform, leaving everything to the imagination that it could.
“Hey Ted, where are you off to? Watson was looking for you a bit ago.”
“Sod it! I can't find an open activity so I've got to go look after flippin' parents! I've put it off as long as I can; nothing for it now I suppose.”
Ann fingered her hair; we had snogged once or twice at a school disco but, according to the gossip, she was seeing a 20 year old brickie who worked over the other side of town, so I hadn't had a lot to do with her for a few months.
“Um, I'm in the dark room, you know.”
“Yeah? With Sue, I suppose.” Sue Reynolds was the school's photography expert; she had actually had several pictures professionally published, albeit in the local rag.
“No, actually. She did an ankle playing hockey. It's just me. I've got the key!” Her eyes sparkled at this; possession of the dark room key was a rare honour. Mr Stanley didn't trust just anyone with the chemicals and expensive equipment he kept in there; usually if he didn't have the key then Sue did.
“Bloody hell! You are going up in the world. You'll be house captain next.”
Ann laughed at that; she was far too wild a spirit to ever be selected for such a coveted position. She'd even managed to get stripped of her prefect's badge after just 3 weeks of term. That very nearly earned her the slipper off Miss Watson, who rarely felt it necessary to use corporal punishment.
“Yeah, but I'm going to be lonely. No one knows there's an exhibit in there; I could do with someone to talk to. Fancy it?”
I didn't need to think about that for too long.
“Yeah, alright. Let me just go and tell old Watson that I can't do the tour thing; it'll piss her off but at least I've got a decent excuse.”
“Okay then; I'll go and tell Mr Stanley that you're helping out; that'll make him happy. He doesn't much like anyone using the dark room alone; well, y'know, apart from Sue. Bloody arse licker.”
“Ughh, that sounds unpleasant.”
“What're you talkin' about?”
“Licking a bloody arse, of course.”
“Oh, Jesus, if that's the standard of conversation I can look forward to then I think I'd rather be alone. Now Sod off to Watson, before I change me mind.”
Grinning to myself I beetled across the courtyard, and found Miss Watson ensconced in the Watford house room. She was chatting to a group of 4 parents, and excused herself when she saw me.
“Turner! About time. I need you to take these parents around for me.”
“Sorry Miss, but Mr Stanley asked me to help Ann out with the photography exhibit as Sue's off, and I said I would.” This was stretching the truth a bit, but I was pretty sure she wouldn't check up on me.
“Damn it! You knew I wanted you for the tours. Any excuse eh, Turner?” She sounded angry but she finished up with a slight grin; she was a decent sort really, and knew how much we all hated talking to parents, be they our own or someone else's.
“Oh well, never mind. Go on, get going then. Ah there's Martin; he'll do. Oy Cannell – get over here. I've got a job for you.”
Given my official release I retraced my steps to the science block, and, on the lower ground floor, I found the dark room. It had a solid dark wood door, and a sign that said...well, I'm sure you can guess.
I knocked on the door; two, one, three. Odd to relate but at that stage the entire Fifth form had decided on a secret knock; ah, those were the days, before mobile phones. We were so innocent!
The door opened a crack, and Ann's nose peeped out.
“Oh, it's you. Was Watson alright about it?”
“Yeah, she was fine. Did you tell Mr Stanley?”
“I told him, but I'm not sure he was paying a lot of attention. Phil had managed to drop some gun cotton into the Bunsen, and he'd blown his sodding eye brows off! Singed the ends of his hair too, and couldn't stop blinking. Funniest thing I've seen all year.” She began to chuckle at the memory and, despite Phil being my best mate, I joined in mercilessly. Stupid sod; he was probably a genius but still as thick as two short planks sometimes.
The laughter left us nicely relaxed, and we slumped onto the high stools that were the only place to sit in the long narrow room. At the far end the developer sat patiently awaiting it's next meal, and along one of the walls was a bench complete with bottles of developing fluid. The opposite wall was covered with photos taken by pupils over the years; mostly washed out landscapes and blurry action shots of the school's football team.
“Well” I said “What're we supposed to be doing? You're Queen of the Dark Room, for a the day at least. What are your orders, oh Queen?”
“Umm, well, you could kiss me.”
I was taken aback at this; I thought we were just here as mates. And there was the matter of the brickie boyfriend too!
“I thought you was going out with some bloke? From off that building site, over town?”
“Well yeah, but he's away up in Newcastle doing a job for a few weeks; I'm a bit lonely here on my own. Come on; we've done it before.”
“Yeah we have, but not when you were with someone. And I've been sort of seein' Janice for the past couple of weeks.”
“Bloody hell, you kept that quiet, you git. I was wondering who she'd been seeing; sly cat!”
“So you see, not a good idea. What should we do about Open Night?”
“Nah, hang on a minute, boy. Neither Terry nor Janice is here; they'd never know if we had a bit of a cuddle. Come on; you know you want to.”
I was a teenager boy; of course I wanted to! My reluctance wasn't because of any high-minded moral principle, or even the fear of getting caught. I was just a bit annoyed that Ann thought she could get me to do what she liked, especially when I had just told her that I was seeing one of her mates.
“Sorry my love; not interested. Another time, maybe.” I hoped that my scorn would piss her off enough to drop the idea. Sadly not one of my brighter ideas.
“We'll see.” she said, and sliding off her stool she headed for the door. At first I thought that she intended to abandon me, but she reached the door and stopped. From the pocket of her blazer she took a key; she fitted it into the lock and twisted. There was a solid clunk.
Turning back to me she undid her tie, and then she dropped the key down into her bra!
“What the soddin' hell are you doing, you cow?”
“If you want to get out of here you got two choices; you can either search me for the key, or you can kiss me.”
I was stumped; what the Hell did I do now? I didn't want to kiss her, not now anyway, but routing through her bra would certainly get me close enough that she could kiss me.
“Ha, ha.” I parodied a laugh. “Just give me the key and I'll get out of here. I'm not bloody kissing you now!”
“Not happening. Kiss me or grope me; one or the other. Maybe both if you fancy it, eh? C'mon, are you a fairy now or somethin'?”
I scratched the side of my head, and considered my options. I could still only see the two that Ann had outlined, and I didn't find either appealing.
A thought struck me; I sidled over to the door, and jerked the handle. Sod it! She really had locked it. There went that idea; she wasn't bluffing.
A desperate hot anger shot through me; I'd get that sodding key if I had to kill her to do it!
I sprang at her, much to Ann's surprise. She raised her hands to fend me off, and I managed to grab them, pinning them in one of mine. My other moved towards her bosom, fingers crooked as they prepared to creep their way to the small metal talisman.
“No, no, hang on! Don't you dare touch my chest; I'll scream! I bloody will! You bastard! Leave me alone!”
I let go of her hands and stepped back.
“Two minutes ago you were daring me to get the key; now you're screaming sodding rape! Make your bloody mind up, will you?”
“I didn't think you'd really try and get it; I've got a boy friend you know. And besides, with all that jiggling the key's sort of slid out of my bra. I'm not really sure exactly where it is.”
“I don't suppose you're going to strip off and look for it, are you?”
“Do you mind?! The idea? I'll just dance about a bit; I'm sure it'll soon fall out.”
“And in the meantime I'm locked in this room with a bloody raving madwoman. Holy soddin' shit bags!”
“Well, it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't tried to grab me.”
“Now it's my fault. You're bloody kidding me!”
“Well, now, it really is; if you'd behaved like a gentleman, and done what I asked, we wouldn't be here now. Well, not trapped-like.”
I spluttered; Ann took a step back, alarmed at my expression. A red wall of rage thumped into my head, battering what little sense I had left out of it.
“My fault! My soddin' fault! I'll show you...just..come here!”
I reached for Ann, who tried to duck away, thinking I was after the key again. This time however I had different intentions.
I got a grip on Ann's forearms, and, as she tried to pull away, I gave one huge heave which dragged her towards me, as my body tipped backwards onto the nearest stool. I sat down on it, and shuffled my weight backwards, before placing both of my feet on the strut that stretched between the two front legs. This gave me a flat lap, and over it I tugged Ann.
She fell across my knees, her mouth open, with her feet and hands well above the floor on either side of me. Her blazer had ridden up during our struggle, and her bottom, in its neat black skirt, was presented to me, like a patient on an operating table. I prepared to operate.
I had little experience of giving a spanking, but I had seen a couple of films over the years that featured the naughty heroine turned over the heroes legs, so I had a rough idea of how to proceed.
I raised my right hand (I promise to give the spank, the whole spank and nothing but the spank inanely passed through my mind) and separated my fingers a little. Palm flat I aimed at the centre of her bottom and whacked it down. The results were a little disappointing. The main one was that her skirt flared upwards at the bottom, but Ann did not so much as jerk.
She did manage to speak though.
“You bloody sod! Bastard. Let me go. Now!”
I gave her another four or five spanks, still concentrating on the centre of her arse; in the fairly loose shirt I couldn't see much else. The last couple elicited a faint gasp, filling me with self belief. I was making an impression.
I let lose a further volley, but didn't get any greater reaction.
“Do you think this is hurting me? Do ya? Do ya? It bloody isn't; my Mom smacks harder than this. Why don't you lift me skirt up and really let me have it? Ha! Coward.”
At this point Ann was basically spewing out gibberish, but her suggestion seemed like a good one. I reached down to the hem of her skirt, and lifted both it and her nylon underskirt. Before me were two perfect plump buttock cheeks, surrounded by purple nylon briefs that clung to every delightful inch. There was also a hint of pale crimson at their centre that suggested my spanking skills had been greater than Ann had led me to believe.
The sudden cool air on the back of her legs was Ann's first clue that I had done as she proposed; she sucked in her breath, ready for a fresh round of invective.
This time I struck first; literally, in fact. With a clearer target I dropped 6 stinging smacks onto Ann's right buttock, and then I did the same to the left. These spanks had an immediate effect, with her flesh taking on a very pretty scarlet hue.
“Hang on, that bloody hurts!” she yodeled; I was grateful that the door was thick and that no one came down to the Dark Room on a routine basis.
I deposited another round to both cheeks, and was extremely gratified by the changing shades; it was like watching a stop motion film of encroaching autumn, and seeing the leaves turn colour.
I was starting to cool down at this point, and, in fact, at the back of my mind I was considering the probable consequences. I'd managed to forget about that bloody brickie!
Ann decided to make another contribution.
“You bloody pervert; you're enjoying this! You get off on tanning girl's arses, do you? I can feel your dick; it's gone all hard. Let me go! Now, damn it!”
I realised that Ann was quite right; I had become aroused, although I was almost sure that it was just the sight of her largely uncovered behind that had done it. Well, maybe sixty percent sure.
Raising my left thigh I shuffled Ann off my lap onto her feet. As they struck the ground so did the dark room key; it must have worked loose as Ann wriggled against me.
I jumped off my stool, and turned away; my school trousers were very tight, and my erection was rather obvious.
I stood there, trying to think suitably unsexy thoughts in an attempt to reverse the blood flow; of course concentrating on my erection didn't do a lot to relieve it.
Muttering under my breath I was startled to feel Ann's hand reach around my waist, and grasp the offending bulge. She gave it a gentle rub,
“Ooh, you are pleased, aren't you. And such a big boy. I wish Terry had a dick like that!”
She jerked her hand up and down, and I had to pull away; I couldn't afford to get my trousers stained before I went home. Good luck explaining that to Mom!
I reached around past Ann, bending down to get at the key which still lay at her feet. Picking it up I stood, moving backwards as quickly as I could.
“Look Ann, I'm sorry I spanked you. I got a bit pissed off with the whole key thing, but I shouldn't have done that.”
“Oh, I don't know. I suppose I might have deserved it. And, you know, I kind of enjoyed it. Not as much as you did though. Obviously.” With this she flicked the end of my penis; it had begun to gradually subside but this propelled it back into life. Ah, teenage stamina.
“Uh, yeah. Look Ann, I've never done that before. I really am...”
“No worries. I won't tell Terry. Or Janice. Although if ever a bird needed a good spanking it'd be her. Worth a thought eh?”
I giggled nervously; Janice had yet to let me touch her bottom when we kissed, so I couldn't see that smacking it was likely to happen.
Still, if she was naughty, who knew what might happen?