dining hall hijinks

  Sandy came back from the fruit bar with a pear and a banana and a smile.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Keisha said playfully.

“Oh wouldn’t I,” the 35-year old long-time nudist said.  She handed the pear to Lisa.  Both looked over at the little desk at the top of the stairs; Mrs. Magnuson’s attention was elsewhere.

Corey thought it was just about the sexiest thing he ever saw, watching Lisa shift her butt around and wince as she inhaled and took the smallish pear into her, out of sight under the table.  Then both hands were up on the table and sipping coffee again, winking at Corey.  What mischief.  There was no reason to do this except for the satisfaction of pulling a fast one on Mrs. Magnuson, the girls getting revenge on behalf of the guys who kept on getting their pockets searched.

Sandy’s face betrayed no emotion at all as she invaginated the much bigger banana.  After a minute she sipped her coffee and got up.  “So long folks,” she said, moving carefully around the table, taking the tray up, trying to walk naturally.  She made it about halfway to the conveyor belt when the banana just fell out of her, plop, just like that, thumping quietly onto the hardwood floor.  Mrs. Magnuson, fortunately, was looking the other way.  Sandy kept walking, not breaking stride, kicking the banana aside with her bare foot, intending to pick it up and eat it later.  Everyone at the table cracked up.  Sandy would be hearing about this for days.