The teacher, Mr. Newburg, was a 31-year-old, third year instructor with long brown hair, thin, sculpted face and wire-framed granny glasses. People often told him he resembled a thinner Daniel Day Lewis, though he preferred comparisons to the English romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley whose works included "Ode to the West Wind" (1819), "To a Skylark" (1820), the lyric drama "Prometheus Unbound" (1820), and "Adonais" (1821), an elegy to John Keats.

Five days earlier, his egocentric principal asked him to fulfill a very interesting assignment, so here he was, seven o' clock in the evening, not a soul in the high school except for the security officers, the janitorial staff, and the two girls before him. Night had fallen, and the windows at the back of the room held nothing but darkness and his own reflection. Mr. Newburg considered the class roster before him, which held only two names.

Since he rarely went to the movies, he looked at the two girls and asked, "OK, which is which? Alicia Silverstone?"

The blond to the right raised her hand. Alicia Silverstone wore the classic schoolgirl uniform (surprising, since the school had no dress code); her breasts rising and falling through her thin, white blouse tied at the midriff to expose her perfectly smooth stomach, the skintight short skirt showing off every curve of her shapely ass. Her long, sleek legs were bare save for white knee-high socks and she stretched these legs now, spreading them slightly to show just a hint of tightie whities. Her hair, done up in pigtails, completed the ensemble. Her big eyes glowed, her quirky lips broke into a smile and her dimples flared provocatively.

"So I suppose you are Alicia Witt?" the instructor continued. Alicia Witt nodded solemnly, her long red hair flowing like a waterfall across her shoulders and down her back. Alicia wore a black blouse halfway unbuttoned to reveal the fringes of a black, lace bra; a short, cotton skirt billowed around her tight, round ass and unlike Silverstone, she had decided to wear no socks at all. Witt's black nails were also in contrast to Silverstone's fire engine red ones, and she made no attempt to impress the teacher before her, nor offered a smile.

"Alright ladies," Mr. Newburg began, "I hear you are both up for the part of a high school genius in an upcoming film. My job here is to pick the best one for the role based upon actual intelligence. Through a series of oral questions and written essays, I shall determine which one of you has the best intellectual capacity to play this coveted character. Now, let's begin, shall we?"

Turning to Silverstone, he asked, "In Emily Dickinson's poem "Because I Could Not Stop For Death" who is riding in the carriage with the narrator?"

Silverstone extended her legs a bit more, giving the instructor a better view of her underwear.

"That would be Death and Immortality," she answered.

"That is correct! Very good," Mr. Newburg said. "All right, Alicia Witt. What was the name of Edgar Allan Poe's wife and of what affliction did she expire?"

Witt looked over at Silverstone and in an offhand imitation, spread her legs to reveal a black thong.

"Look," she said, "I don't give a shit, OK? I can beat this stupid bimbo intellectually any day, so this is just a waste of my fucking valuable time."

"Hey, fuck you, you Goth wannabe!" Silverstone countered. "Everyone knows redheads are even dumber than blondes! You can kiss my ass!"

"I'll kick it, you stupid whore," Witt snarled.

"OK ladies, calm down please. I assume from your childish demeanor that neither of you wishes to continue with the intellectual test," Mr. Newburg sighed. "Unfortunately, I can't leave here tonight without a name to give my principal. How do you suggest we settle this?"

Silverstone stood up, walked to the teacher's desk and sat on it, her firm ass rubbing provocatively against the metallic top. Extending her arm, she reached out and began running her fingers through Mr. Newburg's hair.

"I'll work hard to make an A in this class," she whispered. "I'd do ANYTHING for a good grade."

"Awww fuck," Alicia Witt shouted and standing, walked over to Silverstone and shoved her on the shoulder. "Don't listen to this slut! Immoral perversions should be punished, not rewarded."

Mr. Newburg could feel himself growing hard beneath the desk.

"OK look," he said finally. "A teacher should be able to improvise or improve on a lesson plan should the need (or something else) arise. Believe me, something has arisen. So here's what we're going to do. I don't want you to mess up your clothes, so I'm going to have you strip down to your underwear and fight each other for the part. The winner not only gets the role, but has ME for the night as well. There are no rules, no time limit and no surrender. You must fight until one of you is unconscious. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," both girls said in unison.

Moving to opposite sides of the room, Alicia's Witt and Silverstone began to strip down. Soon, both were topless, clad only in underwear (and in Silverstone's case, knee-high socks). They glared at each other and bared their teeth like alleycats.

"When I say go, you attack," Mr. Newburg said. "Ready? Set...GO!"

The two girls charged each other and met before the teacher's desk. Silverstone immediately took Witt in a backbreaking bear hug, their firm young breasts pressing against each other in violent embrace. Witt responded by grabbing Silverstone's pigtails in her left hand and yanking back, then pounding her upturned face repeatedly with her right fist.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh," Silverstone responded as she returned the favor by breaking the bear hug and latching onto Witt's breasts.

Silverstone began to squeeze with all of her strength, Witt's nipples bulging out from between her fingers.

"AAHH," Witt cried and letting go of Silverstone's hair, tried in vain to pry Silverstone's fingers loose.

Instead, the blond kneed the redhead twice in the crotch and then pushed her back against the blackboard. Once there, Silverstone removed one hand and placed an arm across Witt's throat in an attempt to choke her adversary into submission. Silverstone released the other breast and began to pummel Witt's soft, white stomach. The gasping redhead had to do something fast.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the eraser waiting like a weapon upon the blackboard railing. With Silverstone focused on her stomach, Witt reached out desperately with her left hand and grasping the object, shoved it into Silverstone's eyes. The blond immediately broke the hold, her peepers covered in yellow chalk residue, while Witt delivered a low blow to her crotch and followed with an upper cut that sent Silverstone off of her feet and into a row of desks, knocking three over in the process.

With her adversary sprawled across the upturned desks, Witt pounced upon Silverstone, stomping repeatedly on her breasts, crotch, neck and face while the blonde's body shook from the impact. In a rage now, Witt approached another desk, hauled it high above her head and sent it crashing down onto Silverstone's body. Then she took another desk and repeated the process. Then another. And another!

Soon, Silverstone was buried beneath a mountain of wood and metal, groaning slightly. Climbing atop the teacher's desk, Witt sprang up and belly flopped on the entire pile, crushing Silverstone beneath it. The blonde's legs shot out from the bottom, twitched, spasmed and then were still. Climbing down from the mountain, Alicia Witt approached her instructor.

"Do I win?" she asked expectantly.

"Well, I suppose you do," Mr. Newburg said, "but I can't have my classroom is such a mess. Would you mind replacing the desks to their original position and removing her body to the corner?"

"With pleasure," the redhead replied.

Alicia straightened her thong and began lifting the desks from Silverstone's body. Once completed, she began to drag her opponent to the corner by the arms when suddenly, Silverstone opened her pretty eyes! Witt found herself flipped over onto her back between the blonde's legs. Silverstone immediately executed a figure four leglock around the redhead's neck that left Witt gasping once more for air.

"I'm not through fighting yet," Silverstone hissed, blood trickling from the corner of one eyebrow. "Not by a long shot!"

She flexed her thigh muscles while Witt's face turned from red to blue. Reaching down, Silverstone grabbed Witt's breasts and pulled up hard, her enemy's mammaries stretching like taffy. Witt arched her back and struggled to break Silverstone's leglock, but gradually her movements became feebler and the redhead's eyes began to flutter.

Silverstone, not wanting to end the fight, broke the leglock, stretched herself across the carpeted floor and trapped Witt's face in a reverse breast smother. The redhead's face disappeared into the blonde's cleavage as Silverstone ground down harder and harder on the features below her. She remained in this position for almost a minute before Witt fell into dreamland.

"Wake up, bitch," Silverstone cried as she scooted forward, planted her ripe ass on Witt's breasts and began to bounce up and down repeatedly until, looking behind her, she noticed that Witt had come to and was groaning low with each bounce.

"You know, I liked you better unconscious," Silverstone remarked.

She scooted back again and buried Witt's face in a reverse facesit. Witt clawed frantically at Silverstone's thighs, but to no avail. The blond began to grind and thrust, burying the redhead's face beneath her. Feeling a low heat burning in her womanhood, Silverstone ground and thrust harder and harder, Witt's head banging into the carpet, until Silverstone came as hot sticky fluid overflowed her cotton underwear and smeared her adversary's features.

"I liked that! Let's do it again!" Silverstone exclaimed.

Getting to her haunches, the blond slapped the redhead awake before spinning around and applying a forward facesit. Grabbing the back of Witt's head with both hands, she pulled the actress' face deep into her crotch and, thrusting and grinding even harder, came once more as Witt's arms and legs convulsed as though electrified. Silverstone remained glued to Witt's face for over two minutes more, back arched, thighs spread, until she was sure Witt was once more unconscious. Finally, Silverstone stood and turning her back on her fallen foe, circled the instructor's desk and straddled him in his chair.

"It's time for recess," she cooed, unbuckling his pants and unzipping his fly.

Just as she was about to send her thin fingers down to his manhood, a pale white arm wound itself around her neck from behind and five black-nailed fingers clapped over her mouth. Silverstone let out a little muffled cry as Witt dragged her off the teacher and onto her knees, in a classic sleeper hold. Silverstone kicked and bucked, but Witt clung to her back with such force that soon the blonde's eyes drooped shut and her arms went limp. Standing now, Witt kicked her foe between the legs before dragging her body over to the bookshelf.

"Unhhh, what's going on?" Silverstone asked groggily, unaware of her fate.

"I'm about to make you book-smart!" Witt replied angrily.

Taking the bookshelf at the corner, the redhead flung it hard to the ground, crushing Silverstone's body beneath hundreds of pounds of metal and books. Then Witt took the podium, laid it horizontally across the fallen bookshelf and climbing to the top of this mountain and jumped up and down as Silverstone's extended red nailed fingers convulsing from beneath the pile. Finally, Witt descended the furniture and approached Mr. Newburg.

"That's what I call book-smart!" Witt said. "She's covered in books and it probably smarts!"