Chapter 6
"So, did you get them, or didn't you? "Huh?" asked Patsy, startled out of her daydream by the strangely familiar voice. "HUH? What are you talking about, HUH?"
Sot Madden, all six feet four inches and two hundred and fifteen pounds of him stared sullenly over her locker door at her.
"Sot ... " Suddenly she remembered!
She was supposed to have gotten the answers to the history exam! She'd forgotten all about it! She looked up at Sot (Whose real name was Percy, but God help the poor sonofabitch that called him that) and tried to think real fast. It wasn't fast enough.
"You said that you was going to fuck him to get the answers. Now, did you get the answers, or didn't you?"
"Ummm ... listen, Sot, it's not that easy, I mean ... I'm still working on it."
"Look, I happen to know that he was over at your house last night."
"How did you know that, Sot?"
"Because I followed the mother-fucker after football practice. That's how I know that. Now, he was over there yesterday afternoon, and he was back there last night. Either that boy takes a lot more convincing than he has any right to, or else someone's jerking me off. And I don't like the latter possibility, if you want to know the honest to God truth."
Sot was a mean Mother, there was no doubt about it. Patsy wasn't sure what had attracted her to him, except that she'd been trying to maintain an image of outlandishness and play the role of social outcast, purely for its own sake, and the closest thing that Multon had to offer in that respect was Sot Madden. Of course, Sot wasn't what you'd call a political sort.
"Don't you realize that it's all bullshit," she'd asked him once. "I mean, by just showing up at school, we're paying lip service to an institution that's already rotten at the core. It's decayed already, it's dying. It's not going to be long before everything comes toppling down onto our heads."
Sot had peered at her suspiciously through slitted eyes, popped the top off another beer can and asked, "What the flying fuck are you talking about?"
"Civilization! It's going down the tubes. All we can hope for is that it'll be a quick, painless death, although that's already doubtful. But we have a moral obligation-"
"Look. The last thing we need, is some pushy girl going around spouting a lot of ideas and bullshit, you follow? Now, I know you wouldn't be stupid enough to be a pushy girl ... DAMN they piss me off!! ! . . .so the question I want to ask is, 'what the fuck are you going around spouting a lot of bullshit for?' That's the question I want to ask."
Then, he'd downed the beer in a single gulp.
Then, he'd burped loud and long.
Patsy had realized from that moment on that Sot was not the kind of person who'd have gone over real well with her crowd back in LA.
But, he was still the closest thing to a natural anarchist that Multon had going for it, so she'd stuck with him, hoping that bit by bit, she'd be able to enlighten him, bring him around to a high level of consciousness, one that would comprehend the aesthetic and ethical values inherent in wanton, mindless destruction. As it now stood, he merely destroyed out of boredom.
"You did WHAT?" she asked him one night.
"Yeah ... just lobbed a brick right through the mother-fucker."
"You're kidding! WOW! I wish I'd been there."
"Yea ... " he chuckled, thinking about it. "We drove back there about a half hour later. SHEEEEEEEIIITTT you should have seen the crowd. All of them buzzing around like ants when you step on the hive. And there it was, right where we'd found it ... that pretty Corvette with its windshield shattered all to fuck and gone."
"Well that's wonderful! You knew the guy, huh."
"Nah!"
Patsy regarded Sot with awe. "You didn't? Wow. So, why'd you do it."
"I wanted to hear the sound it would make. And I had a half hour to kill."
"Sot ... that's fantastic! Do you realize, that's the first consciously anarchistic act you've done, for the socially correct reasons. I mean...."
"Patsy, will you please shut the fuck up and suck my cock?"
No ... Sot wouldn't be the architect of any revolution ... although if any bona fide revolutionaries came along and needed someone to torch a building or two....
None of which was comforting to Patsy now, as she reviewed her rapidly dwindling options.
She may very well have been growing disillusioned with Sot, and may very well have been considering that a break-off point was approaching, and may have been able to discourse for hours' on the necessity of such an eventuality, but trouble was, she had kind of forgotten to bring it up with Sot.
"By the way," he said, "what the fuck happened to your hair?"
"My mother and I ... sort of reached an understanding about it."
"Yeah ... well, it looks better. Which pisses me off. You walk around looking like an ass-hole for me, and you get yourself looking all normal for that mother-fucker. I don't like it. And now you tell me you don't have the answers. What do you want me to do, flunk that mother-fucker's course?"
"No Sot, I don't-"
"I'm telling you, Patsy, I'm not going to spend another damn year in the eleventh grade. Fuck it! Enough is enough."
He had that "I'm going to go out and ruin something" look on his face.
She'd seen it before. It was a very real and valid indicator of his moods. It was also quite prophetic. She feared that he was getting ready to ruin her.
"Listen Sot, you have to understand, he can't just produce them, he has to sneak them from his old man...."
"But did you ask him?"
"Well, yes, of course I asked him," she lied.
"And he said he'd do it?"
"Well, he said he'd try ... " she lied again.
"He'd better do a fuck of a lot more than try. I'm telling you, I ain't spending another damn year in the eleventh grade. I'll fuck somebody up first."
Patsy breathed a sigh of relief. He scared her. And truth was, he was lousy in bed.
Oh, he had a cock that was easily big enough, but he didn't have a lot of imagination about using it.
And his knowledge of the finer points of the female anatomy was nearly non-existent.
"Don't go talking to me about no fucking clitor orgasm and vaginal orgasm," he'd said one night, highly annoyed. "All I know is that you stuck your cock in it, you come. So does she. You come, don't you?"
"Yes, but Sot, I was just trying to point out...."
"I'll do the fucking pointing around here. That's the trouble with you, Patsy, you think you're still living out in California. Now, there's a faggot state. All you got is faggots running around talking about rights, and personal growth, and all kinds of radical bullshit. They ought to all be put up against the wall, you want my opinion."
"How can you just make a blanket accusation about an entire state? And what makes you so sure that everyone's a faggot out there."
"Because they let their women run around with a lot of hot shot ideas oozing out of their head like pus from an open sore. I'm telling you, it all started with the fucking vote. If they'd kept them from getting that, there wouldn't be any trouble now."
"What, with faggots?"
"No, with women."
"What? You are ignorant-"
"GODDAM YOU DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT AGAIN," he'd shrieked with that sort of demented tone to his voice. "I don't gotta take that shit! I'm telling you, I ain't no faggot that'd let you get away with that shit. Your in Multon now, and you'd better start acting like it."
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wasn't all that fond of Sot after all. In fact, she'd already started to realize that the only truly justified reaction to someone like him would be blind fear. That's about what she was coming around to.
She tracked Johnny down at lunch and tried out whatever influence she might have built up with him the day before.
"Hey, Johnny," she said, trying to be as foxy as possible. The problem was, she was here at school and she'd never really gotten into the flirtatious mood that was so common to the Mary Ellen Rogers types.
Johnny, seeming to sense that, was also little uncomfortable. Strange, that the context could so totally describe people's actions.
"Oh ... hi, Patsy, how are you doing."
"Pretty good. Had a real good time last night."
He looked embarrassed. "Yeah ... " he kicked the dirt, "well, yeah, I did too, sort of. I ... uh, wasn't exactly expecting it, but yeah, it ... it was real kind of interesting. Sort of."
You seem uncomfortable."
"Well, hell, Patsy, so do you. You know. I mean fuck, I'm not really all that experienced at this sort of thing. I mean...."
"Look, I understand. You want to do it again?" He looked around to see if anyone was watching.
"Gosh, keep your voice down, would you?"
"Oh, I see. Well, if you're embarrassed about being seen with me...."
"No, no, that's not it at all. It's just that ... well how would it look for both of us if it got out what we were doing last night?"
"I didn't say you should take out an ad in the paper. I just wanted to know if you thought you might be up for it again."
"Oh. Well. Yeah, sure. I mean, well shit! It was great. You know...."
"OK. Look. I've got a favor, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't ask me why I need it. Just take my word for it, if I didn't, I wouldn't ask you."
"Okay. Shoot."
"Do you think you can steal the answers to the history mid-term next week from your old man?"
"Are you out of your mind."
"Well ... no."
"You sure are. Do you have any idea how hard that would be?"
She gave him a sly grin. "Oh, I don't know. But I'll bet it wouldn't be as hard as something else I'm thinking of right now."
"Come on, Patsy, cut it out."
"Hmmmmm, how hard do you think it would be?"
"Look, just don't even ask me, all right."
"I have to."
"Why?"
"Because I'll get killed if I don't get you to do it."
His eyes widened. "WHAT?. "
"Sot Madden."
"Oh. That's right, you were sort of seeing him, weren't you."
"Um hmm. He knows you were over at my house last night."
"He what?"
"I'm afraid so. He followed you."
"That goon."
"True, but the fact remains, he wants the answers to that test, or he'll kill me, and probably injure you for life."
"Oh, great. Jesus, is this what I get for playing around?"
"Were you just playing?"
"No, look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that ... I really meant it when I said that I had a good time ... but Christ! I don't particularly want to die, you know what I mean."
"Don't worry, I doubt he'd do much to you. I'm the one he's pissed at."
"Tell me, why does that not make me comfortable?"
Suddenly, a voice called out down the hall.
"Johnnnnny," it sounded, shrill and bird-like. Johnny cringed.
"Oh shit, there's Mary Ellen. Look, I ... " He paused, about to tell her to make herself scarce, but then he held back. "I'll leave," said Patsy.
"No, that's okay. Hang on."
"Oh Johnny," sang Mary Ellen as she bounced up to him, "I was just talking to Mr. Scroggins and ... oh. Hello Patsy."
She looked curiously from Johnny to Patsy, and when no explanation was forthcoming she immediately assumed that she was the odd-man out.
"Well, maybe I should leave and let you two continue whatever discussion you were having...."
She acted like she expected Johnny to tell her that wouldn't be necessary. Instead, Johnny just looked down at his feet.
"Look, Mary Ellen," he finally said, "I kind of have something private to talk to Patsy about."
She looked vile and deadly.
"Is that right. Well, let me just tell you sonny, perhaps you should talk to her about the Homecoming dance as well!" She looked at Patsy. "You see, dear, until about thirty seconds ago, I was his date. But I suppose he found something a little more in line with his base interests."
"What's that supposed to mean, you tight-assed twat?"
Patsy wasn't about to take anything from this cunt.
"Well, well, aren't we associating with pleasant people," Mary Ellen said to Johnny. "If you ever regain your senses, give me a call. It'll be a pleasure to hang up on you."
She turned around and stormed off.
"Johnny, I'm sorry," said Patsy.
"Look, she breaks up with me like that at least once a week. She thinks we're all in a soap opera."
He kicked his shoe against the pavement.
"Look, I'm worried about this clown, and I don't mind saying so. He's crazy. You ought to see him at practice. He's a fucking animal. He's the only one that the coaches try to hold back a little. They're afraid that he'll kill someone. I think they're right."
Patsy nodded, sagely.
"You're really seeing this clown a lot, aren't you?" Johnny asked.
Patsy looked up at him.
"Would it make any difference to you?"
He grinned awkwardly. "Well, it sort of looks like I don't have a date for the
Homecoming dance."
Patsy's eyes widened in astonishment, as much at the invitation as the fact that she was actively considering it.
"Do you know how strange I'd feel at a Homecoming Dance?"
"Probably no stranger than I felt last night at your house."
Patsy grinned. "That was kind of strange, wasn't it?"
"No shit! Is your sister like that too?"
"Who, Suzie? Not a chance! She surprised us and got back from the library real early last night. It was right after you left, as a matter-of-fact. You should have seen Mom and me running around, picking up our clothes. She's daddy's favorite. Neither one of us like the sonofabitch at all, as you might have guessed."
"I got the impression that you two didn't like each other either."
Patsy frowned. "That's kind of strange ... I don't know exactly what happened, except that she made me color my hair back. How do you like it?"
"I think you're real pretty. I was kind of surprised."
"Well thanks."
"No offense. But I just hadn't seen you look normal."
"Well Johnny, if you think about all the ways that you've seen me so far, aren't too many of them that are normal."
He laughed. Then he got serious again.
"Look, what am I going to do about this ape that's after you and me too, most likely?"
"I don't know. But I'd better get the answers to that test from your daddy."
Johnny thought about things a moment.
"That was the reason you invited me over yesterday?"
She nodded, not exactly looking like she was proud of it.
He pondered some more.
"You know, you might have pulled it off, if you'd hit me up right then."
"I know. I guess I was thinking of you kind of differently by then."
He nodded.
"There you go again. Lord. You nod more than anyone I've ever known."
"So look," he said, changing the subject, "what are you going to do about Sot?"
"You really can't steal them from your old man?"
"I wouldn't want to try."
"Well, then I guess I'm on my own. Tell me, does your daddy have any kinks?"
It was late afternoon, about an hour since the last bell had rung. There were still sounds of rehearsals drifting over the high school campus, the football team out in the stadium, the majorettes and the marching band, the cheerleaders (even from here Patsy could make out Mary Ellen Rogers' shrill voice barking out orders to the squad) ... There were also some teachers remaining late, grading papers, planning the following week's assignments-One of those was Mr. Swanson, the history teacher. Patsy had just finished her fourth recon check of his room, and there he was, still sitting behind his desk that looked just a little too big for him, with a massive stack of term papers piled up to the side.
He didn't seem to have made a lot of progress during the hour since school had let out.
Patsy decided that the moment was now, or never. She wasn't at all sure what she was going to do, and she wasn't sure that she'd even still be a student when she was through, but Sot Madden was pissed, and if he didn't get his way, there was no telling what he'd do.
Strange, she thought. When she'd first undertaken this mission, it was for someone she thought of as her boyfriend. At least, that was the rationale she'd used to justify the act in her mind.
Now, she was still doing it for a boy that she liked, but the cast had changed drastically.
Now, Jimmy was the reason. Patsy had no doubts that Sot would break his fingers, or his arm, or maybe inflict permanent brain damage. The way he'd look at it, he'd already spent three years in the eleventh grade. He was just one step away from total social failure anyway. It would almost be worth it to him, just to release some of his pent up frustration.
That's something she'd learned. Stupid people like to be violent when they're frustrated or kept from something that they want.
Weak stupid people break dishes, put holes in walls, maybe crush a small animal or two. Strong stupid people kill.
The trouble with Sot was, that not only was he capable of killing, he actually would get off on it.
She wondered again what it was that she'd seen in the goon.
She knocked on the door.
"Urn ... Mr. Swanson, may I come in?"
He looked up, startled, and quickly fumbled with some of the papers on his desk, and also ... with some papers under his desk, in his lap, or at least that's what it looked like.
She strode into the room without waiting for an answer, and walked up to the desk. He was looking more and more flustered.
She couldn't believe it, but she would have sworn that he'd been beating off.
"Mr. Swanson, listen there's something I need to talk to you about, if that's okay with you. I mean, I don't want to interrupt you grading your papers or anything."
That's it, she told herself, keep your face perfectly naive, perfectly innocent.
Act like you don't have the faintest suspicion that anything was out of the ordinary.
She gave him her prettiest smile, and then realized that he didn't recognize her.
"It's me, Patsy Devlin. I dyed my hair back."
Dim recognition dawned.
"Oh ... uh, yes ... yes, of course, uh, Ms. Devlin. Well ... harumph, uh ... what can I do for you?"
She hoped that Johnny had been right.
She leaned over his desk, acting still like nothing more than a friendly student, polite, sociable....
She'd already made certain that there were two more buttons undone on her blouse than she'd ever have tried to get away with during class.
He zeroed in on them at once.
He seemed to be listening to her, but his eyes were glazing over, the more he stared at her ample cleavage.
"So you see, Mr. Swanson, it's really something that I need a lot of help on ... a whole lot of help. I really don't know what I'll do ... really I don't. I'm just so scared, because if I do flunk this test, it's going to put me way behind for the rest of the year, and then I'll have to spend all my time trying to catch up here and it's going to throw me off in my other classes, and I just don't know what I'll do...."
She started to cry.
"Now ... wait a minute ... I don't understand what you're talking about ... I really don't at all ... I seem to recall that you're doing rather respectably in my class...."
He pulled out his grade book.
"Hmmm ... let's see ... Devlin, Devlin ... ah yes. Here we go. Yes. This is nothing to be ashamed of, your record so far this semester. You'll win no awards, but all in all, I'd say that ... um ... Pd, uh ... uh ... uh . ... "
Patsy had unbuttoned the last two buttons on her blouse. It was obvious that she wore no bra underneath. Mr. Swanson was getting quite confused, and seemed unable to even continue.
"Mr. Swanson ... haven't you figured it out yet?"
Please, please, please, be right Johnny. You don't know how much is riding on this.
She took a deep breath, and then, assuming the most sexy stance she could, and putting the most alluring look on her face that she was capable of, she stared him right in the eye and slowly drew her blouse down over her shoulders. Not all the way.
The hemline of her blouse was still tucked into her skirt, and so her breasts remained covered. But every inch further that she pulled her blouse caused more and more of her lush curves to show themselves.
Please be right, Johnny, please be right, she said to herself. If it was possible to scream in ones thoughts, she was screaming.
"Mr. Swanson ... ? " she said, softly, almost a whispered singing lilt in her voice.
He was becoming very still. He knew what was at stake. He knew the risks. Everything depended on what Johnny had told her. If it was true, she couldn't miss. If it wasn't, or if she'd interpreted it wrong, then she'd never graduate from high school.
"Well," he had said, in response to her question about his father's kinks, "I think he really gets off on ... gosh, this is a little embarrassing. He's my father after all."
"It's your life, after all. And Johnny, I'll make it up to you. I'll make it worth your while. Remember last night? There'll be more. Lot's more. I promise."
"Well, one night when my folks were gone, I was going through my dad's drawers, you know, just to see what I could turn up, and I found all kinds of hard core porn that he kept stashed away. And I swear, I don't know where they make this stuff, but I know that it's got to be illegal. It was all these magazines, and films, and books, and the theme was always the same. Young girls. And I mean young. There's no way any of these chicks were over sixteen. Swear to God, the real, authentic number."
"I swear, it was heavy. It was kind of a turn on too, but strange, you know what I mean. He doesn't know it, but until yesterday, those magazines of his have been my love life."
Patsy laughed at that.
"But that's not all. One night, I heard the two of them horsing around, and so I stuck my ear up to the door to see what I could catch. They were going through this really bizarre game kind of thing, with my dad playing the teacher, and my mom playing the student. And my dad was saying things like "Now Candy, I'm afraid the only thing I can do is punish you. You've been a bad girl. You've forgotten your homework three days in a row, and I've warned you, repeatedly...."
Patsy was already forming her plan.
"It was pretty strange. I looked through the keyhole, and there was my mom all dressed up in pig-tails and a cute little gingham dress, and my dad bent her over his knee and spanked her! So I think you could say that he has a few kinks for little girls."
"Wow, it sure sounds like it. Thanks a lot."
Now, as she waited for his reaction, she held her breath. He stood up. There was a stern look on his face.
"Are you trying to bribe me with sexual favors, young lady?"
Patsy sat back, a stunned look on her face.
"Why, Mr. Swanson," she laughed nervously, toying with the buttons on her blouse, "whatever made you say something like that...."
He said nothing for a moment, then he turned and walked to the door. He looked out in the hall, up and down, and then a second time, and then he slammed the door shut. The lock made a sharp metallic click when the bolt fell into place.
He turned back.
"Do you have any idea how serious this offense is, Ms. Devlin?"
"I ... uh, well ... I, ummmm ... " she stammered, stalling, looking more and more scared.
"I don't know how serious this difficulty of yours actually is, but I can assure you, it can't possibly be serious enough to justify this type of behavior. I'm afraid that I'm going to have to do something about it."
He looked stern. He looked imperial. He looked dangerous. He looked just like Patsy hoped he would look. He was a fool and she was going to play him for all he was worth.
She continued to look scared, but managed to put just a touch of hunger in her voice.
"What are you going to do to me, Mr. Swanson ... you aren't going to ... spank me, are you?"
She saw him falter, just for a second. She was right on target.
"Oh, Mr. Swanson, please, you wouldn't do that, would you?"
She lowered her blouse a little more.
"You wouldn't paddle me would you? Slap my on my bottom, till I cry, and I wiggle from the pain ... what would you use, your hand, or do you have a paddle? Would you pull my skirt up, and pull my panties down ... ? "
She continued to act like she was frightened by the thought, but lingered over each image, until she saw the bulge begin to rise in his crotch. She'd been expecting it. He was still playing the role, and wasn't really prepared for her to be playing along with him. He wasn't, actually, sure what was going on, but she'd rightly figured that anyone as obsessed as Johnny had said he was, would most likely be unable to take a shot at her, no matter how far off the mark he might be.
She lowered her blouse all the way and slid her arms out of the sleeves.
"Would you really paddle me just for exposing myself to you, Mr. Swanson? Is that all you want to do, is paddle me?"
She stepped up close to him.
"What else would you like to do? Would you like to tie me up? Use a belt on me? A whip? Would you like to whip my breast? Think about it, Mr. Swanson. It's just you and me. The door's locked. Think about what I'll look like if I undo the clasp on my skirt ... and just let it fall to the floor. . .like this ... may be?"
There was a frown on his face. No, you loon, she thought, this is not your bedroom and I am not your wife, and whether you've caught on or not, I am in control here. You are just along for the ride.
She waited to see if he would try to stop her, but she knew that he was past that now. He'd thought he was toying with her. Now he'd find out what toying was really all about. The one thing he'd never counted on was encountering a real life student who not only could play the fucking role, she'd actually enjoy it, go beyond it, live it.
Anything for a kick. That had been her motto for the last five years, and just because her hair was now all one color had done nothing to change that. She'd try anything once, even pain. She frankly doubted that Mr. Swanson was up to giving her anything she couldn't handle, but even if he turned out to have little backbone, well, then she'd have had the experience. That's what finally counted, right? Somewhere along the way, she had no doubt that she'd be able to worm the test questions out of him, somehow.
She let go of the opened flaps of her skirt, and it fell to the floor. She'd worn a pair of very flimsy panties to school, not really knowing why, but thinking that they might very well come in handy.
Mr. Swanson let out an audible gasp when he saw her standing naked in front of him.
"Look at my body," she said, softly, stroking him with her voice, "Look at how firm my breasts are ... have you ever seen such perfect breasts on one of your students? I doubt it. Most girls are still waiting for them to pop up, but mine are already round, and firm ... see how they jiggle when I shake my body, and see how tight and hard my nipples are?"
She took a nipple between each thumb and forefinger, and slowly began to pull at them, pulling harder and harder, moving her breasts around in circular motions, stretching all of the flesh at the nipples as she increased the tension.
She hopped up on his desk.
"Aren't you going to paddle me now, Mr. Swanson? I want to feel your paddle on my buttocks. You know what I'd like? First, I'd like you to paddle me with my panties on ... see how they pull my cheeks in and keep them firm ... that'll make it sting nice and hot ... and then I'd like you to paddle me on my bare ass. And after that, maybe we can get my panties real wet and you can paddle me wearing them when they're real wet ... how does that sound?"
He was losing control now, seeming to stagger by blind reflex alone. He couldn't keep his eyes of her body, and she leaned back on his desk, holding each of her breasts in her hands, spreading her legs, smiling coquettishly.
"I'm yours, Mr. Swanson. I'm yours, to do anything you want to do. Isn't there something you'd like to do to me?"
She pulled the material covering her crotch to one side.
"Look at my pussy. See how wet it is. See how wet my pubic hair is? It's wet for you. It wants to feel you, Mr. Swanson. Think about ... whipping it. Hitting it with your belt! Wouldn't you like that? Come on, Mr. Swanson...."
"STOP IT!! ! " he yelled all at once. For a second, Patsy was afraid she'd gone too far. He seemed to be really past the danger point.
But then, he stepped up to her, taking in all her body with his eyes.
He stared hard.
He seemed unable to believe what he saw. She must have looked like something out of a dream.