Brigid, the fully clothed dodgeball terror

        The game of dodgeball started slowly, each side afraid to go after the other, but soon both sides got more aggressive and each found their style.  The guys, at least the stronger guys, lost any inhibition about throwing as fast as they could.  Rod wasn’t among the strongest but he tried not to cower in the back like the unathletic boys.  He protected the right flank, dodging successfully and throwing his shots as hard as he could -- at the girls’ legs, the best strategy.

        The girls were more artful, faking and shifting.  Except for Brigid, who became a hurricane to be avoided.  She grabbed the ball whenever she could and charged!  Red hair swinging, she thundered right up to the line and demolished the boys with her left-handed cannonballs.  Part of it was she looked more heavily protected by clothing than did the other girls.  True, she was just like the others, in a white T-shirt, black-and-white shorts, and sneakers with white socks.  But it was so much more than she had been wearing to her other classes that she looked fully clothed, while the other girls, who had been fully covered up, looked half naked and defenseless.

        Was Brigid wearing her majorette uniform under her gym clothes?  As the game went disastrously on, the boys losing more and more teammates to Brigid’s shots, Rod decided that she was.  She had to be wearing those “bits” on her nipples.  Otherwise she would have to unbraid those threads beforehand, and re-braid them afterwards.  The tiny, intricate latticework on the ends of her nipples looked like it took a long time to weave.  As for the “wisp” between her pubic lips, well.  .  .  he still didn’t know how that stayed on.

        Rod got eliminated when he dropped a weak throw from Millie, pretty embarrassing.  He watched from the sidelines as Brigid and her friends finished the boys off.  That body conditioning class was really in evidence.  Even though Brigid was not the tallest or the heftiest she looked the strongest, stronger than most of the guys even.  Any lack of confidence she had, back in that stairwell, had been wiped out.  Seeing her sweating through her T-shirt, the bands of her sturdy, large-cupped sports bra showing, the muscles of her arms rock-hard as they flexed -- he suddenly imagined Brigid playing dodgeball in her majorette uniform.  .  .  what a turn-on .  .  .

        Afterwards the boys sulked into the locker room, defeated.  Though once the shock was over they thought it was hilarious -- beaten by the girls at dodgeball!  “What a bunch of pussies we are!” was Lorenzo’s reaction, echoed by others.  As Rod got dressed, pulling out his band uniform and carefully starting on the buttons, he smiled -- until Sammy cracked, “You really got a load of Brigid’s tits in math, Sykes!”  Rod’s face flushed, remembering getting caught looking over at Brigid’s bits when he was at the chalkboard.  “Shut up,” he said, jokingly, but he really was embarrassed.

        In the lunchroom he kept an eye out for her.  She had suggested they eat together -- this was really turning into a me-and-Brigid day! .  .  .  He caught her on the lunch line.  She was easy to see from a distance, her bare skin next to everyone else’s full-coverage uniforms or regular clothes.

        They walked to her usual table, she being careful where she put her bare feet, watching for spills.  They sat with the same crowd as yesterday, Debra and Virginia and Jamal, except this time Jaycee came by with his new girlfriend Nilda.  Jaycee and the big-breasted soccer player had been inseparable lately.

        “Dammit,” Brigid said right away.  Her first forkful of mashed potatoes had dripped onto her right breast, on the upper slope, about an inch over the “bit”.  She wiped it off with a napkin, her breast crushed under the weight of her fingers, jiggling with the napkin’s back-and-forth motions.

        “One nice thing about being the majorette,” Nilda remarked, tossing her dreadlocks back as she ate her salad. 

        “Yeah .  .  .  landing there would cause a stain on my jacket,” Debra said, pointing to the “T” insignia to the right of the buttons on her wool uniform, under which she had the benefit of two more layers of covering, namely her blouse and her bra.

        “Still a bother,” Brigid said.  “There, did I get it all?”  She leaned forward to show them the top of her breast.  The small reddish flush from the napkin rubbing was disappearing on her pale white skin.

        Everyone nodded.  They ate in silence.  Rod looked sideways and tried to detect the contours of Nilda’s breasts, but he couldn’t.  Her soccer shirt was too baggy.  Not so with Brigid.  He watched the motions of her breasts, the nipples capped with those tiny green thread bits, as much as he discreetly could.  Everyone knew the precise size and shape of Brigid the Majorette’s breasts, the way they swayed and jiggled and bounced as she walked and talked.  Now, they projected outward over her plate, wiggling with little tremors as she lifted her fork and chewed.  Every motion of her body, no matter how slight, seemed to set off some kind of ripples through those round, firm mounds.  When it came to public exposure Brigid had very experienced boobs.