Chapter 8

Suzy did not appear at Julia's house that night. Nor was she in school the next day. That alone was enough to alarm her. When she received a summons to Henry Scroggins' office, her stomach jittered over into open panic.

As she walked the long corridors of Clinton High School, past the library where students furtively razored pages from encyclopedias to be copied verbatim for papers that night, past the cafeteria where the smell of lunch cooking filled the air (always the same smell, she thought, no matter what was being served that day), past long lines of lockers, past open classrooms which seemed filled with the same faces no matter how many she glanced into, she herself felt like a student. A student called to judgment. The long trek to the principal's office, the one common thread that united everyone's recollection of high school regardless of which generation they came from. True, she carried no pink slip in her hand with its illegible indictment for crimes real or imagined scribbled by a vengeful teacher. Nonetheless, she felt helpless. There was no reason to assume that Henry Scroggins wanted anything more from her than to discuss upcoming projects for the English Department, or maybe even to raise the possibility of tenure. Her sense of thick dread yielded not one bit to this hopeful speculation however. She had lost touch with the day to day reality around her. She no longer was truly in touch with the way she related to the school, her job, her students. She knew only that swarming clouds of danger continued to gather about her, thicker and thicker so that as she reached the pale green door with the simple plate that read OFFICE, she was ready to believe that anything, anything at all could be waiting on the other side and that whatever it was, it sought her destruction.

Her nerves were on edge, her stomach was turning. Fear held her. The long hallways behind her felt like a vast labyrinth. What minotaur, she wondered, waited still ahead, waited patiently in a sinister crouch for her unsuspecting entry into the final chamber--!

Sounds of the bustle of administering a typical high school filled her ears as she opened the door. A typewriter clacked and clicked like pebbles raining on a tin roof. A radio burbled country music. Papers were shuffled, filing cabinets slid open and clattered shut. The muted chime of an office telephone sounded from no direction in particular.

"Oh, yes. Miss Perkins." Gloria Thatcher, Henry Scroggins personal secretary looked up at her through dark horn-rimmed glasses that were fastened to a thin chain around her neck. A white knitted sweater was draped around her shoulders, fastened at her neck by an ornate gold double alligator clasp. No one really knew how long she'd worked in the office of Clinton High School, probably not even her. It was common knowledge that anything that got done, did so through her efforts.

"Mr. Scroggins is expecting you."

Was it her imagination, or was everyone staring at her, Julia wondered. Do they know?

Am I finished? This is how it feels, she thought, those last moments before the noose is tightened, the hood lowered, the trap sprung and you fall dizzily through space waiting for that ultimate jerk upwards, the sickening snap--!

"Come in," the voice growled at her knock.

Henry Scroggins sat at his desk and tried to look like he knew why he was there. It was a doomed effort from the start. He was a fat, bald little man with a ludicrous thin moustache that looked like he'd drawn it on his face with a grease pen. Beads of sweat continually dotted his forehead.

There are two kinds of fools; those who know it and those who are too stupid to know it. Henry Scroggins was a fool who knew he was a fool, but who had somehow convinced himself that no one else did. The man is obviously dangerous, Julia had often thought. As she entered his office now and sat in the chair he gestured her towards, she reaffirmed her conviction.

"Harumph," was his first sound, as he tried, as usual, to clear his throat without success. Julia felt queasy.

"Um ... yes; Miss ... uh ... Perkins...."

He seemed unable for a moment to recall the purpose of this meeting. Then a light dimly blinked in his eyes and he regarded her with renewed interest.

"Well, Miss Perkins. Still teaching English, are you?"

"Yes sir." The man's an ass, she thought.

"Yes, yes. Well. How's it going? Getting along with the students all right?"

"I holding my own, sir."

"Well, they can be trying at times, can't they? Little buggers."

Silence.

"Yes ... um, well, uh, Miss ... Perkins. Right; Miss Perkins ... heh heh...."

He was obviously utterly ill-equipped to being up whatever was on his mind. Julia shuddered.

Then he got to the point. Of all his weak points, smooth transitions were one of the most glaring.

"Well see here Miss Perkins; there's been some rather unsettling things being said about you lately. I'm concerned. Yes ma'am I am concerned. Yessir. Concerned" He thumped his desk.

"I don't think I know what you're talking about Mr. Scroggins." Julia managed a look of benign innocence.

"Yes ... hmmmm. What about this Tanner kid? What's the story there?"

"What do you mean, Mr. Scroggins?"

He pointed a stubby finger at her.

"Don't play coy with me young lady.

Explanations are in order. Yessir, they most assuredly are ... uh, in order. Yessir!" He thumped his desk again.

Julia decided on a direct assault.

"Mr. Scroggins, if what you're referring to are the sick, small minded musings of a bunch of cowardly fools who have nothing better to do than spread vicious rumors, well yes, maybe I do know what you are talking about. It just never occurred to me that I might actually have to take such evil drivel seriously. Perhaps I was wrong."

His mouth dropped open for a minute. He made a move to lower his glasses and peer at her from over the top rim, but forgot that he wasn't wearing them. He hastily picked them up from his desk, put them on and then proceeded to do exactly that. Julia wanted to burst out laughing.

"Miss Perkins," he said, standing up. "We are given an awesome task. Yes, awesome indeed. We have within our hands, the destinies of hundreds of young future citizens to shape and create within them the, the ... uh, ability to ... uh...."

He was getting hopelessly lost. Julia felt her stomach doubling up within her as she stifled yet another urge to collapse in laughter.

"Uh ... anyway, as I was saying. We've got to be very careful. Yes, verrry careful indeed about how we conduct ourselves. We must be like Ceaser's Wife. Above, uh, what was it? Suspicion! That's it. Above suspicion. It's not enough to be pure of heart. We must be pure of deed and look like it too! Do I make my point clear?"

"No sir, you don't." His face fell at this. "I don't mind telling you, sir, that I resent these insinuations. Very much. Must I deal with slander and whispered innuendo even here, in your office. From you? I think if you have a point to make, you should get to it. Right away."

"I see. All right. You been fucking that Tanner kid?"

Finally, she could contain herself no longer. She spit out her laughter. Long heavy peals of laughter. She saw his face turn beet red, tried to get herself under control, started to mumble an apology and collapsed again in hysterical, laughing. His eyebrows twitched. His eyes widened. He tried to say something but his mouth merely went through the motions with no sound whatsoever supporting them.

"Mr. Scroggins, please forgive me. It's just that when I finally heard it put to me in a straightforward question, I realized how absurd it sounded. Please try to understand. I'm no fool. I know what's been going around. It's been a source of great concern to me and I've felt somewhat powerless to do anything about it. I guess it's just such a relief to see how puny the charges sound when they're out in the open."

He looked flabbergasted.

"PUNY!! ! You say PUNY? Dear woman, have you lost your mind. Why, this strikes at the very core of our society. PUNY? I'm aghast. That's what I am. Aghast. Aghast, do you hear?"

"Yes, Mr. Scroggins. Puny. Words are cheap. Talk is cheap. Who has come forward with anything concrete? Who can back up any of their lies? WHO? I'll tell you who. NO ONE, that's who. Because that's what they are. Lies."

He peered at her from over the rim of his glasses again. :

"Oh. That's what you say, is it. I understand you've been spending a lot of time with this student of yours lately."

"Steve Tanner is an intelligent, talented young man. I was trying to encourage him to rewrite a paper he did for one of my classes. It was a good paper. Worthy of publication. It could have meant honors for him and for this school. If I erred in my judgment, I'm sorry. I thought I was doing my job."

"See here, Miss Perkins." He was fumbling for words. Then he sat back, confused. "So you're saying this is all bullshit. Is that what you're saying?"

"I might have chosen my words a little more delicately, but yes, that's the crux of it. It's bullshit. And I don't mind telling you, I am mightily disappointed in you and this school for encouraging this sort of thing. I doubt I can ever have any creative effect on my students or in any aspect of my job after this. The most I can hope for is that you won't torpedo my efforts to seek employment elsewhere."

"Now, now, hold on a minute young lady. Let's not go off half cocked. I'm sure we can work things out. If, as you say, this is all a misunderstanding. I'll have to think about this."

"Well please think very hard about it, sir. I stand to lose a lot. I'm sure you understand what I mean."

Wait a minute, she thought. Was he ... oh God. She'd absent mindedly been fumbling with the buttons of her blouse and without realizing it had opened two more than when she'd come into his office. He seemed aware, for the first time, that those were in fact real breasts flopping beneath the material. She glanced down and realized that with the view she was giving him, he really could have no doubt. No, she thought. I won't do it. Not even to save my ass. Henry Scroggins!?

"You were saying, sir?" she asked sweetly.

He ripped his eyes from her breasts and she fancied she heard the tearing sound as they became unglued.

"Oh ... uh, right. Uh, yes. What was I saying?"

"I think you were saying something about needing to reconsider this ugly situation in a much more fair light."

"Right! Absolutely!" He frowned and looked at her, puzzled. His eyes slobbered back to her breasts.

"Miss Perkins. I don't mind telling you that this disturbs me very much. Verrrry much. Yessir."

Now was the time, thought Julia, for him to stand up and walk over to the window as he waxed philosophic. Hmmmm ... maybe he had something to hide under the desk.

"However, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't impressed by your stout defense of yourself. Don't get me wrong. I've always liked you personally. Always struck me as a bright young lady. You'll make someone a fine wife someday. Yessir."

She beat back an impulse to plunge the fountain pen on his desk into his eye.

"This sort of thing is regrettable. But," and here, he paused for another blatantly lustful look at her breasts, "there are always solutions. Isn't that what the philosophers say? Solutions always present themselves, right? We, uh, just need to know how to recognize them. Yessir."

And with that he thumped his desk again and indicated that the conference was over. Julia was not quite sure just what, if anything, had been decided.

"Mr. Scroggins, you called me in here to accuse me of one of the worst things a teacher can be accused of, and now you're dismissing me, with nothing having been resolved? I can't believe this. What am I supposed to do now? How can I go back out there and teach, without even knowing who my accusers are. Why can't I face them? How can you do this to me?"

"What? Oh, uh ... right. Yes, you have a good point there. Well, I'll have to get back to you on this. We don't want to rush into anything hasty now do we. No sir. like I said ... things have a way of working out, don't they?"

She left his office relieved and frightened both. She'd obviously been offered a reprieve, an escape route, should she have the stomach for it. And Suzy Reed hadn't given away any of her choice photos either. Otherwise she'd never have pulled off the bluff. But she could have shown them around. To other students, perhaps. Steve? Wally Joe Jordham? Scroggins was obviously quite sure of himself, even though he didn't have enough finesse to get himself through a wet dream, let alone spar one-on-one with someone who had brains. She'd handled him easily enough this time, but what if he got his story a little straighter? What if, the next time she walked into his office, she saw lined up along the top of his desk, full color glossies of her and Steve Tanner fucking away like demented chimps? Well, she thought, buttoning her blouse. There were ... solutions, as he'd put it.

Her path back to her classroom took her along the edge of the parking lot. She watched as a car waited at the light, turned the corner with a screech of rubber and glide easily into the lot. The car was familiar to her. She'd been fucking her eyes out in its back seat not long ago. It stopped and Steve Tanner got out, walked around to the passenger's side and held open the door. Suzy Reed stepped out and as they walked towards the school, both stopped and stared in silence at Julia. Steve looked both leering and uncomfortable, as if he had all his lines perfectly memorized but had to go to the bathroom real bad. Suzy merely flinched when she saw Julia, visibly pulling back. Steve placed a comforting arm around her, whispered something in her ear with a grim look on his face and lead her away.

Julia's calm reasoning process turned to confetti. Refusing to think, forcing herself to keep her mind blank, she returned to her classroom, somehow fumbled her way through the remaining periods of the day and fled to the sanctuary of her house as soon as the last bell sounded. Once there, she stripped, drew herself a hot bath, poured herself a very strong drink and tried in vain to relax.

What could she do? What was left for her? There was no mistaking the implications of the two of them together. She felt the rage of furies swarming about her and could only jab pathetically in the darkness, and wait for them to show themselves.

When the doorbell rang later that night, she sensed that time had come. Steve Tanner's slouched stance on her front steps confirmed it.

"Hello Steve," she said dully. "What do you want."

"We need to talk, Miss Perkins. Seriously, we really do."

She knew she should have sent him on his way, maybe even given up with the whole business right then and there, phoned in her resignation in the morning and taken the first bus out of town. Instead, she stood silently aside and ushered him in.

"I don't know what to say to you Steve. We made a horrible mistake. Both of us. I'm afraid I'll have to answer for it." She lit a cigarette.

"So get to the point. What do you want?"

"Gee, Miss Perkins. I wish you didn't sound so mad. I kind of had some good news."

"So what is it." she said, growing impatient when he said no more. "I could use a little good news right about now."

He grinned insolently at her and took an envelope from his pocket.

"See what you think of these."

Julia opened the envelope, already knowing what she would find. Still, she recoiled at the sight. Suzy's camera focused well. Even through the window, she could make out the separate hairs surrounding her wide opened cunt. She saw the sheen on Steve's stiff cock as he buried it in her mouth. She could even see blobs of cum floating over her pussy lips. She must have gone through two rolls of film, thought Julia. They'd done everything that night, more even than she remembered. Steve fucking her in the ass, Steve buried in her cunt, licking her pussy, sucking her tits, she eating his huge cock. She recalled the heat she'd been in that night. Recalled the passionate desire she'd felt, the craving to feel that huge log plow through her. Suzy's camera work brought it all back, with grim reality. No where could she see the tenderness she'd felt, the joy. Pure fucking. That's what these pictures chronicled. Pure mindless animal fucking. Her face twisted in an endless variety of ecstatic grimaces, their bodies colliding in as many ways as she had been able to imagine. Yes, it was true. She'd loved it. Viewing these dim echoes, she still felt the heat, still felt his cock throbbing in her, still, God help her, wanted him to fuck her.

"These pretty much tell the story, don't they?"

"Yeah," he said. "You gotta hand it to Suzy. She knew how to get the job done."

She looked back over the pictures, then turned to face him.

"All right Steve. What does all this add up to? Where do I stand?"

He smiled triumphantly, and extracted another envelope from another pocket. He spilled the contents onto the table. There were six thin celluloid strips, dark reddish brown in color with tiny square sprocket holes in the sides. She felt like fainting.

"Are these all?" she asked finally, meaning both the negatives and the prints.

"Every last one."

"Steve, I don't know what to say."

"Why don't you say, 'Steve, how 'bout a drink?' " His confidence was unsettling, very unlike the untested boy she'd seduced in her classroom. Without thinking, she went to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Her mind was racing. Could it be true? Was she to be passed over, at last. Was the cruel hand slowly pulling back into the clouds, the accusing finger turned away from her?

"I'll get some ice," she said and hurried to the kitchen. As she cracked the cubes into two tall glasses she felt that it was the awesome weight of tension she was shattering, breaking to bits and scattering to the winds. Damn she felt good! She had no idea what Steve intended with this visit, only that her gratitude and relief washed all doubts aside as they roared through her. She hurried back into the living room with the two drinks. She felt like getting drunk. Hell, she felt like getting laid. Her utter shock at finding Wally Joe Jordham in her living room with Steve when she returned paralyzed her instantly. A drink dropped from one hand and bounced on her fuck carpet. Alcohol and crushed ice splattered over her ankles. She stood, immobile, as they leered back at her.

"Miss Perkins, I believe you two have already met." Steve said this with an air of casual nonchalance that chilled her blood. She felt like she might faint.

"Howdy, Miss Perkins," Wally Joe said, nodding politely. "Those sure are some damn pretty pictures of you."

"Both of you get out." She knew her voice sounded cold and hard. She knew they didn't believe it for a minute.

"Miss Perkins," Steve said, standing up. "You might as well get used to it. You don't tell us a damn thing. Understand."

She looked at him, pleading. He was not affected.

"You sure do play some sweet assed games with people, don't you? Do you have any idea how badly you fucked up Suzy? Oh, I'll admit, it was a damn good move on your part. And it gave me the chance to play the hero and take all the responsibility off her poor little shoulders." He nodded towards the pictures.

"Look at it like this, Miss Perkins," said Wally Joe standing up and taking off his shirt.

"You were willing to fuck poor little Suzy to keep her quiet. Now you get a chance to really put your cunt where your mouth is." He unbuckled his jeans.

"You two stay away from me." Panic was full in her. She felt it spilling out into her eyes, the twisted lines of her face, the shuddering in her leg muscles. The boy who was no boy at all but a mountain of muscle and flesh dropped his pants. His cock stuck through his underwear and she quailed at its size. Massive. Unbelievable. She already felt it ripping her body in half.

She turned to run, but Wally Joe had a heavy paw on her shoulder and literally jerked her backwards into his arms. She struggled to break his grip but it was like trying to bend stone. Who said steroids were bad for you, she thought.

"Boy, you were right, Stevie old chum. She's one fuck of a live wire." He slapped her as hard as he could on the ass. "Goddam I love 'em to squirm." He slapped her again, even harder.

"Come on, you worthless cunt. Squirm!! ! " Another slap. "Squirm, I say!! ! "

He was hurting her badly, and hadn't even gotten down to business yet.

"Hoo-boy!! ! We gonna get laid tonight!! ! ! Hoooo-boy!! ! "

He spun her around. She spit in his face.

"Uh-oh. Steve, didn't you teach this fucking whore any manners when you fucked her?"

He reared back with his arm and slapped her across the face. It knocked her senseless. She saw stars. Then she felt his hands on her again, heard the tearing of cloth, felt her pants being peeled down her legs. A thick hand dug deeply into her crotch, and with several fingers plunging deep into her cunt, she felt herself literally lifted off the ground by her cunt, the weight of her whole body slamming down on the wet fulcrum of cunt lips against hand. She fell forward, into his body. He jiggled her up and down on his hand, her feet never touching ground.

"Oh God, put me down, please stop, OH GOD THAT HURTS!! ! PLEASE STOP IT!! ! "

He did as she begged, tossing her off his hand, spilling her body like an overturned drink onto the rug.

"On your knees, SLUT!! " he commanded.

She couldn't think, couldn't even gather her thoughts enough to wonder if any options were opened to her. She got to her knees. His cock was out now, stiff as a steel rod, long as an arm and thick as a tree.

"Suck it."

She made a move to obey, but her mouth would not open.

He reached down and grabbed a handful of her long blonde hair. He yanked up on it. Hard. So hard she felt her knees lift off the rug. She screamed.

"I said suck it, you worthless slut."

"Hey, Wally Joe, cool it man. You're gonna fuck it up real bad."

He turned to Steve with utter contempt.

"Stevie old boy, why don't you run along and leave me to the little lady here. I don't think you know how to handle a cunt like this."

"Hey come on. You said you wanted to fuck her, not kill her."

Julia was limp. Her hair was still in Wally's big hand and her head dangled like a puppet's before his engorged cock.

"Steve, I don't know about you. All week long you've been telling me this cunt hole needs to be taught a lesson. So do we teach her a lesson, or what."

Steve was silent for a long moment.

"No marks. No bruises. Understand?"

"Aw, that's half the fun," he said, giving her head a yank.

"I mean it Wally Joe. Don't hurt her."

"Well, if I can't hit this cunt, maybe," he said, clamping his other hand tightly around a bouncing nipple, " I can give her a little PINCH!! ! How about THAT!! ! " He said with a vicious vise-like pinch on the suddenly burning brown point.

"Oh Jesus," Julia gasped. "Oh God, stop, please, I beg you."

"I'll stop it when you're through fucking my balls off, you wet little slit, you. Now I said SUCK"

He thrust his dick towards her mouth and she had no choice but to let it in. She wanted to hurt him and she bit on the swollen head as hard as she possibly could.

"OOOOEEEEEDAMN!! ! That's the ticket.

YEAH!! ! " He just thrust his hips at her face harder, jamming the thick piece of meat into the back of her throat. She gagged, unable to breath.

"Come on bitch, suck it good. Real good. Oh that's it. Yeah ... all right!! ! '

She heard his words disintegrate into broken mutterings and groans and knew he was beginning to come. All at once he withdrew. The head of his cock looked straight at her.

"Beat it bitch. Beat me off into your sweet little face."

Frightened, wanting only to keep him from hitting her again, she took the cock in both her hands and began jerking him spasmodically, licking the head, biting it, jerking harder and harder until she felt the base of his cock sputter into orgasm, shooting the heavy load in his balls up into the shaft of his cock.

His wad gushed at her and splashed into her eyes. A second wad struck her in the cheek, and then he was back in her mouth, pumping her full of his jism. It was hot and she tried to swallow it, but felt some squirt back out around his cock. "Unh-unh ... none of that," he instructed her and she raced her tongue over the shaft to lick up the excess.

"Now scrape that mess off your worthless face and lick it off your fingers," he told her and she obeyed.

As she cleaned his cock with her tongue, he looked over at Steve.

"How 'bout that Steve Old Boy She done quite a trick."

"Pretty impressive, Wally Joe. Pretty damned impressive."

"So what do you think? You want to fuck her, or what?"

"Yeah, I'll take a crack at her. For old time's sake."

He'd shed his clothes while she sucked Wally Joe's dick. Wally reached down and grabbed her behind the knees and lifted her by the legs into the air. She couldn't believe his strength. She dangled head down, facing his cock, while he lifted her pussy to his mouth.

"Ummmm, there ain't nothing so sweet as scared twat. Her Steve, have a whiff. Go on. It won't hurt you."

She couldn't see Steve, but she heard him say, "I think you're being too rough on her, Wally Joe."

"So what? What's she going to do about it? You've got the fucking pictures, right?"

"Come on. Let's cut it out."

"Shit, Steve, I guess you're a pussy too. Not as fine as this one, I'll tell you that."

He lifted her cunt to his lips again and licked with all the subtlety of a grizzly bear. She was upside down, growing faint. Her face pounded from the blood rushing to her head. Through clouding vision, she saw his cock dangling before her, saw it growing stiff, saw the huge sac of balls behind it Sac of balls. BALLS!! ! Of course. Could she do it, and live? Only one way to find out.

She wiggled her cunt in his face a little to distract him and it worked.

"Hey, she-likes it. Sure you don't want to jump in Steve? The water's fine."

Taking careful aim (it had to be right the first time or he simply pull her legs apart till she was ripped in two) she brought the flat of her palm up against his balls with all the strength left in her. She felt them mash against each other, felt them squish beneath her hand.

Kkkkkkkrackk!

He went rigid. She struck again and he dropped her like a massive burst of electricity suddenly flowed from her legs where he'd grasped her.

She broke her fall with her hands and as she tumbled onto the carpet, she saw that the full effects had not yet hit him. Working it smoothly into the motion of her fall, she jammed her foot into his crotch. That did it. like a sail cut from its mast, like a balloon with its air valve suddenly opened, he crumpled into a massive heap. Steve was dumbstruck.

"My God, you'll kill him."

"I certainly hope so."

He was out cold. His face turned a very pale white.

"Wow, you really did him in." Steve's voice was filled with awe.

"Get him out of here and you get out of here."

While Steve still stared amazed at Wally Joe's crumpled form, Julia ran to the table, gathered up all the pictures and negatives, picked up her lighter and raced for the bathroom.

"Hey!" Steve yelled. "Come back here." She heard his footsteps hard on her ass, but she made it. As he pounded wildly at the door, she set a mini inferno in her bathtub and fed the glossy strips into it, adding pieces of toilet paper to feed the blaze. When there was nothing but a pile of ashes left, she unlocked the door and confronted Steve. He looked genuinely scared. It made her feel good.

"I told you to get out. Take your pet moose with you. I'll kill you if you ever come near me again. So help me God I will."

He said nothing, simply returned to the living room, put his clothes on and dragged the still inert form of Wally Joe out the front door.

When Julia was certain that they were actually gone, she returned to the bathroom and examined her body. No permanent damage, she thought. None that was visible anyway.

She stayed up late that night. Beethoven's Sixth soothed her, particularly the last three movements-raging storm, shepherd's song, and the triumphant fifth movement with its transcendent upward sweep of the strings spilling over into the last grand melody. Her storm, perhaps was past. Her present calm, though maybe a bit premature, was soothing. She was finished with Clinton. She knew that now. She realized that she'd been through with Clinton from the moment she gave herself over to fantasies about Steve Tanner's cock. That line, so imperceptible when she'd first crossed it, she now saw as that one irrevocable step she'd finally taken in desperation, a step out of her rut, a violent breaking of a dull routine, opening her life back up to the possibilities of change, of growth. Unable to simply stand up and say, "This, I can no longer do', she'd instead placed herself in a position where she'd had no choice. She'd nearly been destroyed by it. But she survived. Was even now basking in the glow of new found strength and conviction. Yes, she was through with Clinton. But not quite. She had a score or two to settle. She knew how to achieve her ends, fast.