St Mackenzie’s – Dolly & Lacey Smoke Vogues Cigarettes While Stripping

The naughty girls of St. Mackenzie’s, Lacey and Dolly, were back at their rebellious antics once again. Having already skirted dangerously close to expulsion on numerous occasions with their bold displays of authority defiance, these wanton young ladies seemed to only grow more daring as they continued pushing boundaries at the stuffy, all-girls boarding school. Neither the headmistress nor her stern, corpulent matron could tame their wild, irreverent spirits. This time, the duo hatched an extra devilish scheme involving a naughtier prop – cigarettes.

It was a grey, drizzly Saturday afternoon, an ideal cover for their debauched plans.while the rest of the students endured tiresome chore duties polishing silverware or waxing hardwood floors, Lacey and Dolly had other ideas for how they’d fill a spell of free time between a dreary laundry lecture and a painfully long dinner service shift. They had haggled and bribed young Bridget to sneak a pack of the fashionable Vogue cigarettes into the common room. Now, they lounged languidly on the worn sofa, each having lit up one of the menthol sticks.

“We shouldn’t be smoking in here,” Lacey drawled, even as she took an exaggerated drag and released a stream of smoke towards the ceiling. “It’s so naughty, don’t you think?”

“Mmm, I know,” Dolly purred, making sure not to close her plump, purple-glossed lips around the cigarette as she held it between manicured fingers. She spoke with deliberate slowness, enunciating the words. “But then again, what’s life without a little danger?”

The two laughed wickedly, a sound that echoed mirthlessly off the stained walls. Lacey leaned back on the sofa, one leg draped over the armrest, and took another long pull from her cigarette. Dolly watched the rings of smoke curl from her friend’s scarlet lips and fingertips with rapt attention.

“Let’s see some of that famous burlesque act you’ve been practicing,” Dolly commanded in a teasing tone, tapping ash onto the worn Turkish carpet. “I bet you’ll have the lads going rogue when you get to university.”

“Oh, hush,” Lacey scoffed, but she rose from her seat nonetheless, cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. She sauntered towards the center of the room, hips swaying. Her grey pleated skirt was painfully short, purchased as part of an ill-fated attempt to modernize the school uniform. Her black cardigan gapped open, revealing her crisp white button-up, which was not closed enough.

Lacey began to dance, slowly and provocatively, moving in time to the soft strains of jazz music coming from an old record player in the corner. She tossed her long honey-colored hair and let her narrow shoulders slump as she turned, giving Dolly an eyeful of her perfect heart-shaped derriere. As she shimmied, Lacey casually tilted her head back to take another drag of the cigarette before releasing a plume of smoke through her pert nostrils like a seasoned Isles Gypsy.

“Enough of that, you daft strumpet!” Dolly laughed, clapping her hands. “Get over here and sit. It’s my go this time.” She winked salaciously at her giggled conspirator, who slunk over to plop down beside her, sending the wooden frame of the sofa creaking in protest.

Lacey made a show of pouting, Sahara Desert blue eyes flashing mischief as she dragged the toe of her Mary-Janes across the carpet. She sighed dramatically and plucked the cigarette from her lips only to smack them louder than absolutely necessary. “Fine,” she pouted. “You’re no fun, you nasty tart. Let’s go sweep the bloody gutters like the rest of these dullard Old Maids.”

Dolly stuck her tongue out childishly, the plump pink appendage coated with the same deep purple hue as the sheen on her kisser. She quirked the corner of her lip up in a lurking smirk before flicking the still-burning cigarette into a dented teacup sitting on the lamp table. “Temper temper, Uptown Girl. Let me prepare a number just for your discerning tastes.” She rose from the sofa and adjusted her own now askew blouse before pivoting on her sensible flat and trotting away to change the record.

Lacey watched her friend’s pert rump disappear down the short hallway to the dormitory wing before resting her cigarette on the wide armrest beside her. She stretched languidly, arms raised overhead as she arched her petite frame before dropping her hands to continue intriguing her delicate fingers with the bushel ofDU’&RIAN sh

*A knock sounded at the common room door, echoing through the chamber, and the girls froze, eyes wide with shared shock. Lacey quickly snatched up her cigarette while Dolly crawled behind the sofa. Bridget apparently had other pressing matters to attend to.

With a most unladylike curse, Lacey was on her feet and racing to douse her cigarette in the same stale teacup just as the coincidentally rotund Matronuous peeped her head into the room, sniffing the air suspiciously. “Ladies?” she huffed, one meaty hand resting heavily atop her ample bosom. The gaudy rings on her stubby fingers glinted in the filtered grey light.

“Afternoon, Matronneous,” Lacey smiled sweetly, all traces of the wanton vixens who presided over the room mere moments ago vanished. “Dolly and I were just…cleaning. Naturally.”

“I should think so,” Matronneous sniffed, her piggish eyes still darting around as if searching for evidence to support the acrid scent of smoke that still lingered beneath the frescoes. “Heretic house flies in a respected institution really must be kept under lock and key, if you ask me. Tch tch.”

Lacey bit back a smirk as the wizened woman continued her patronizing lecture on what was, in her opinion, the perverse indulgence of cigarettes. “Smoking is perfectly fine for mature women,” she droned. “Goodness knows I’d enjoy a Dunhill after a hard day of making a lady out of you hooligans. But young girls like yourselves simply have no need for such licentious activities.”