Chapter 4
She could not resist the temptation of glancing at several of the illustrations in the two books before placing them on the table. They were graphic and detailed. One could not possibly look at them without being aroused to a physical state of excitement. It was a new sensation for Melanie, one that surprised her more than the luridness of the illustrations. It was the same with the shocking postcard photographs that she took the time to carefully place around the framed mirror over the mantle, which gave her the opportunity to study each one individually. She could not for the life of her imagine how the girls had procured such lurid material while at Turbenthal Hall, which was situated in a very small ski resort community, almost forty miles away from any sizable town. Melanie had to give them credit for their efforts.
Melanie bit hard on her lip, wishing for an end to the wild pounding of her heart, searching for the needed courage to proceed onward with her dangerous mission. For a moment, she considered leaving the house immediately ... but then, the thought of Ursula Pavio and the other members of The Witchwags cancelled the temptation.
She peeked out of the study and saw the stairway that led to the upper floor and Mrs. Briar's bedroom. She tiptoed stealthily into the hall and around the banister of the stairway. Fearful chills coursed up and down her spine as she started to ascend the stairs. It wasn't until she had reached the top of the stairs that she allowed herself to draw a breath. There were two doors at opposite ends of the hall and Melanie had to rack her brain to recall which one Ursula had said belonged to Mrs. Briar. Finally she convinced herself that it was the door on the left. She wondered about the occupant of the other bedroom? Suppose Mrs. Briar had a visiting relative that the girls were not aware of and suppose the relative had not gone to the progressive dinner?
Melanie told herself to do what she had to do as quickly as possible and get the hell out of there. She bent over to remove her heels, her hands trembling so that she feared dropping them in her nervousness. She saw the opened bedroom door to the left and moved toward it. As she did so, a floorboard squeaked beneath her weight and she froze, her heart skipping a beat. She turned her head sharply and stared at the unopened door at the opposite end of the hall. She waited, dreading the worst, but when the door did not open, she convinced herself that she was alone in the house and gradually relaxed.
The bedroom was shrouded in darkness, the shadows lessened somewhat by rays of moonlight that slipped through the windows. Melanie stood just inside the door to Mrs. Briar's bedroom, letting her eyes accustom themselves to the limited light as she reviewed in her mind all the things that she had been instructed to do.
At that moment, everything seemed impossible and nightmarish.
Remembering Ursula's warning that her time was limited, Melanie forced herself into action. She moved to the bed quickly and pulled down the blanket and the top sheet. Then she jumped upon the bed and rolled around on it. It all seemed so ridiculous, so insane, for her to be doing what she was doing.
Next, she smeared some of her lipstick off on one of the pillow cases and then leaped off the bed, opened the small kit and dumped all the items on the night table. She was not even sure she knew what some of the items were, but she dared not take the time to find out. She could only guess that they were the sort of things her mother had described to her when she got her first lecture on the facts of life.
Melanie paused long enough to recall what else she had to do and for a moment her mind went blank. Not until she saw the small bottle of perfume she had clutched in the palm of her hand did she remember.
As she uncapped the small bottle and sprinkled the liquid on the bed sheets, she was given another jolt. The heavy scented perfume was the same that Olivia Lucas had worn that afternoon. There was no mistaking that heavy sweet odor. It was like no other perfume she had smelled before, one that quickly circulated and permeated the room.
A suspicion that Olivia was somehow involved in this game of revenge raced through Melanie's thoughts. Perhaps Olivia Lucas was the girl who had been caught in the act by Mrs. Briar. Melanie put her curiosity aside and tried to concentrate on what had to be done. There was still the matter of removing her panties. As she leaned over to peel down her panties, she turned slightly and in the process, a shock of fright raced through her entire body as she caught a flash of movement across the room. A scream of terror escaped from her throat before she realized she was looking at herself in a mirror attached to an opened closet door on the other side of the bed. The fleeting scare left her limp and trembling and she closed her eyes, trying to calm herself.
When she opened them again, her reflection in the mirror served to remind her of the insanity of the moment. A strange excitement began to ripple through her brain, one she had trouble understanding or explaining, and for the moment, she continued to stare through the shadows at her mirrored image.
Is this really me, she thought, unable to accept the fact. Is it possible that I'm actually doing this crazy thing?
Melanie shook her head and bent over to remove her panties quickly. She tossed them aside carelessly, telling herself that she had had enough of this wild adventure. Time was running short and she felt she could not bear to spend another minute in this house.
She made her way through the opened door and was about to descend the stairs when she remembered that she had left her shoes, the small zipper kit and the perfume bottle back in the bedroom. She returned to the bedroom, gathered up the forgotten articles quickly and dashed back out into the hallway, turning back to partially close the bedroom door.
As she made another half turn back toward the head of the stairs, she glanced up and froze in her tracks with a gasp. Standing before her in the hallway was a middle-aged man she had never seen before, an overweight man with a protruding paunch, who wore nothing but his ill-fitting long underwear.
"Well, now," the man said leering at Melanie, "what have we here?"
He took several steps forward and as he did so, all the blood seemed to drain out of Melanie's body. She could riot for the life of her scream. She could not move. She just stood there staring at this stranger, paralyzed with fear.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" As the man started coming toward her, she made a sudden jerk backwards. The movement momentarily startled him. "Don't be afraid of me, little lady. I won't tell on you, if you'll be nice."
Melanie's paralysis was destroyed by a burst of cold panic. "Don't come near me," she screamed. "Just don't touch me. I ... I didn't take anything, as you can see." She could feel herself teetering on the brink of hysterical tears as she looked around, seeking some avenue of escape.
The man gave her a sickening smile, releasing an odor of bad breath. "I also see something I'd like to take, sweetheart. You bet I would," he chuckled and then added, "You be nice to me and I'll be nice to you. What do you say?"
Another choked sob broke from Melanie's lips. Shaking from head to toe, she couldn't seem to make herself move in any direction. It wasn't until the half naked, round-faced man made another move toward her, that she erupted into frenzied motion. In a state of complete panic, her fist plunged into his pudgy chest, knocking the man slightly off balance, but enough to allow Melanie to sweep past him and race down the stairs.
"Come back here, you little thief."
The shout spurred Melanie to greater speed, and she literally sailed out of the back kitchen door into the yard. She ran on through the darkness, stumbled and falling, dropping the things she carried. She retrieved them quickly and staggered on. She prayed desperately that Ursula Pavio would still be in her car waiting at the side of the deserted road.
Her lungs bursting, panting heavily, she emerged from Mrs. Briar's yard and stopped for a second to catch her breath. As she brushed back her loose red hair, the Ferrari headlights went on and the motor turned over. Melanie whimpered her relief and continued on to meet the white sports car that was approaching her. A door swung open and she jumped into the red leather seat even as the car continued rolling on down the road. The moment she closed the door, Ursula gunned the motor and the sleek car roared away from Faculty Circle. Melanie slumped low in her seat, still gasping for breath but limp with the realization that she was safe.
Ursula slowed down after they were back on the highway and turned to glance at Melanie. "What happened, baby? Anything serious?"
Melanie related what had happened, not overlooking a single detail and once she had finished Ursula burst into raucous laughter. "Do you have any idea who it could be?"
"It could only be one person," Ursula choked out from her laughter. "Mr. Briar, the old bastard himself. Who would have thought that he would be home and in bed at this hour?"
"He might have been drunk or sick or something. He looked terrible."
"That's it," Ursula concluded. "He was probably sick in bed."
"What am I going to do now," Melanie moaned.
"You look as though you need a drink, baby. Here."
"I certainly do." Melanie took the flask gratefully and uncapped it.
The whisky seared her throat and made tears spring to her eyes, but she forced herself to swallow a second time. The heat was already spreading through her chilled and trembling body and her nerves were becoming calmer as a result. She coughed, lowering the flask momentarily, and noticed that Ursula was cruising into the dormitory driveway.
Ursula glanced at her. "Take it easy with that stuff. It's dynamite, especially if you're not used to it."
Melanie sighed wearily, lifting the flask again. "I, don't care what it is. I was never so scared in my whole life." She took another swallow and realized that she was becoming a bit dizzy. "Oh, Ursula, what am I going to do if Mr. Briar tries to identify me?"
"He wouldn't dare, not after trying to make a play for you. He'd have more to lose than you would."
"I hope he looks at it that way."
"Who the hell cares," Ursula shrugged. "What can he do?"
"I don't know. That's just it."
Ursula laughed wryly as she swung the sports car to the curb and into the thicket of trees just beyond the dormitory building. After cutting the motor and lights, she leaned back and looked at Melanie. "All in all, I would say you had yourself quite an evening, Miss Stevens."
"An evening I'll never forget." Melanie felt the need for another drink, as the thought of what she had just been through still gave her the shivers. This time the whisky did not seem as strong as it had earlier. In fact, as it slid down her throat, it seemed smooth and wonderfully warm. When she finished she handed the flask back to Ursula and leaned back contentedly. "I hope I never have to go through anything like that again." She rolled her head on the red leather seat to look at Ursula. "Do you think I've passed all my tests, Ursula?"
"With the flags waving, baby."
"Really?"
The slender Italian brunette flipped her cigarette butt into the darkness amid a shower of sparks. "You are now a member of the notorious Witchwags," she announced. "And this will make it official," she added, cupping her hand around Melanie's neck, drawing the girl forward.
There was a strange light in Ursula's eyes and Melanie had only a flicker of time to sense what was about to happen. She felt herself being pulled forward and saw Ursula's ruby red lips descending toward her own. The strange lips fused and a sudden tremor of excitement coursed through Melanie's body as a warm and seductive tongue caressed and probed the roof of her mouth with startling artistry.
Melanie remained motionless, neither helping nor resisting, her eyes wide and her senses reeling as the kiss grew more intimate and possessive. She felt weak and dizzy and her brain refused to function. She wasn't sure if it was really happening or whether she was just so drunk that she was imagining it.
Before she was fully aware of the beginning of the caress, Ursula's hands had slid beneath her blouse and the gentle fingers were fondling her bare breasts. Melanie felt as though she were drowning in a sea of sensation and a new heat, stronger than that of the whisky, began to suffuse her. She could feel herself sliding lower in the seat beneath the forcefulness of the kiss. Her body began to quiver as the fingertips tested and kneaded the soft fullness of her breasts. She moaned helplessly as they centered their manipulations on her sensitive nipples and the sea of sensation commenced to swirl like a great whirlpool.
"Ursula...." she gasped, sliding her mouth free for the necessary intake of air.
"Hush, baby," the girl whispered, continuing the fondling and kissing.
"Ursula, don't ... don't...." she whimpered, her head rolling from side to side on the leather seat, her body on fire as the hands brought her virginal nipples to a state of complete and throbbing erectness.
"Let me make love to you, baby," Ursula murmured huskily, her rich black hair tickling Melanie's cheek as her lips trailed down in hungry wanderings. "Don't be afraid."
Melanie couldn't seem to think clearly and then, suddenly, she couldn't seem to think at all. She jerked uncontrollably, crying out, her senses rocked by a piercing pleasure as her blouse was ripped open and Ursula's soft lips captured the tip of her exposed breast. "Ursula, don't...." she gasped, her fingers tugging weakly at the closely cropped hair.
The kiss continued, devouringly, and Melanie felt herself sinking under the spell as the spiraling circles of sensation robbed her of all resistance. She moaned helplessly as Ursula tore the blouse further away from her, completely freeing both her bare breasts. Melanie had not bothered to wear a bra that evening underneath her loose fitting blouse and the kisses roamed with new freedom, bringing her stiff nipples to unbearable sensitivity and her swollen breasts to a state of constant tingling.
"Ursula, please...." Melanie whimpered, frightened by what was happening and by what she was feeling. "Oh, please ... stop. Stop it."
The weakness evaporated with heart-stopping quickness the moment Melanie felt Ursula's hand sliding beneath her skirt. She cried out and shoved the girl away from her and twisted frantically in the leather seat to fumble with the catch of the car door. It sprung open and Melanie all but fell out, her red hair swinging loosely over her eyes, her bare breasts swaying and heaving as she stumbled and then regained her balance.
Melanie tugged at her blouse and her jacket, pulling them about her with trembling hands as she blinked in astonishment and confusion at the girls who remained seated in the white sports car. "Ursula, what on earth ... how could you? I don't understand ... I just can't...." Melanie stopped stammering, her brain not functioning adequately.
Ursula returned the stare, her olive complexion very pale in the moonlight. "Welcome to the club, little virgin," she stated softly, somewhat cynically. "Welcome to The Witchwags. Now you know what it is to be a full fl-edged Witchwagger."
Utterly bewildered and still shaken by her own response to Ursula's kisses, Melanie could do nothing more than stand there in silence and watch the girl start up the car and drive off into the night. As she watched the flickering lights of the Ferrari disappear into the darkness, the cryptic words kept echoing in her head and although she didn't fully understand their meaning, they frightened her.
Welcome to the club. Welcome to the Witchwags. Now you know what it is to be a full fl-edged Witchwagger.