The Dean peered through the closed Venetian blinds in his office window, observing the young teacher nervously pacing in his stifling waiting room. She was beautiful and hot, wearing a gauzy summer skirt with a tight jacket over a blouse, her smooth tawny skin perspiring. He was ready for her, but preferred to keep her waiting. Coming from a another institution that was considerably inferior to Kelten—and they were almost all inferior—she'd only been on staff for a few weeks, so he knew that she was worried about the reason for this meeting with the top dog. She had good reason to be concerned.
He glanced at his clock: 4:30 pm, although the temperature had not yet cooled on this unusual, blazing hot June day. Faculty, staff and students had all departed, as planned.
The new hire, Janice Slatter, had come on board so recently as an emergency replacement for the phys. ed. teacher, who had resigned abruptly. Janice was already popular with her students. The Dean was not surprised about the boys, who ogled her body and sensuous face, with its large eyes and wide, thick-lipped mouth. But the girls liked her as well. She must work out like a demon, he thought, to have such an incredible shape. Her jet-black straight hair was cut very short, almost like a tomboy, making her look years younger than her actual age of 26. He realized her haircut looked the way Demi Moore, Winona Ryder, Natalie Portman and Halle Berry wore theirs when younger.
The voluptuous innocent had been charming when he had interviewed her, although fidgeting and nervous. Her behavior had not been surprising. People were frequently uncomfortable with him one-on-one, due to his serious demeanor and what he'd been told was a tendency toward a "hard" look or "hard-edged" stare.
Yet after her hiring, she remained nonplussed when they said hello in the Teachers' Lounge or passed each other in a hall. He had meant to observe her during class when she was in her sports gear, or when she coached the swim team in a one-piece suit, but had not had the time. She wore no wedding or engagement ring and he knew next to nothing about her personal background. His lupine eyes watched her every move. He'd caught her surreptitiously looking at him several times, in student assemblies or in the hallways, when she would turn away, blushing, as he stared back. He knew that he would have her.
He had begun musing about a pretext to summon her, and had decided on a standard inquiry to see how she was faring after a few weeks, when he'd received the upsetting, major news that had caused him to scramble, news that could have put his own position in jeopardy. Thankfully, he'd devised a potential solution—but only if he could bend her to his will.
He opened the door. "Miss Slatter?" She started and whirled around, the full, lightweight skirt floating up and revealing half of her slender, taut thighs. It was a seductive effect, made more so since it was charmingly unplanned.
"Yes Dean, thank you." She entered his office and he shut and locked the door. He walked to his desk and sat as she stood in front of his desk. "I'll be with you shortly," he said, pretending to be occupied with paperwork.
"Would you like a drink?" he asked, pointing without looking at the carafe, bottles, crystal decanter and glasses on the sideboard.
Relieved to have something to do, she said, "Yes, thank you sir. May I pour a glass for you?" He nodded. She added ice to two large glasses, filled them with the clear liquid from the carafe and served him.
She followed his lead in raising their glasses. "To taking responsibility," he toasted cryptically, looking at her for the first time. She flushed, her silky tawny skin now highlighted with pink. He hadn't been this close to her since her arrival weeks ago. Unconsciously, she oozed sensuousness. They drank and she sputtered and coughed, leaning forward, her fat tits straining against her jecket. He smiled. She had swallowed a large mouthful as if it was water, not realizing it was premium vodka.
"Pardon me, Dean. I didn't realize it was vodka," she said hoarsely, recovering. "Is it okay for me to be have alcohol?"
"Oh yes. It's after hours and nobody else is in the building." She looked around nervously. "You look uncomfortable. Why don't you take off your jacket in this heat?"
"Thanks for your concern, Dean, but I'd rather not, if you don't mind." He frowned at her, not used to having his suggestions declined. "Then take a proper swallow of your drink and stand properly."
Tense, she drank off a large amount of the vodka. "Mmmm," she said, unconsciously licking the sweet liquid off her big lips. "That's delicious. So smooth and refreshing." She assumed the standard, formal Kelten pose when addressing a superior, legs spread and hands clasped at the rear of her waist.
"How's it going for you here at Kelten?" he inquired. "I know it's much different from your previous posting. Kelten has its own traditional way of doing things."
"Oh, I like it here very much, sir. Everybody's been friendly and helpful, my department's facilities are excellent, and the kids are nice." The Dean simply stared at her, enjoying the prolongation of her discomfort.
There was a pause, during which she shifted awkwardly. "Please, drink up. I'm so pleased that you like the vodka," he said. Gratefully, she drank, finishing the glass. He stood, poured her a refill and received her thanks. When he sat, he waited several seconds while she avoided his gaze. "Miss Slatter, before we get to the reason why I called you in, do you have any questions?"
"Yes Dean, there's one" she said, taking a drink from her refill. "I'm sorry to be so slow, but it's a sensitive subject and embarrassing for me to speak about."
"Please, drink up, it will help to relax you." She drained the remainder of the second glass.
"Well, sir, it was a few days ago, after a class, and I was walking through the girls' changing room. Almost everybody had left. When I heard a shower running, I figured somebody had forgotten to turn it off. When I turned the corner into the shower room, there was actually a girl there. Her back was turned to me. Despite the water, I could see something unusual." She stopped.
"And what was that?" Perspiring more heavily, she took another swallow. "Come, come, Miss Slatter, speak freely!"
"Yes sir . . . Well, there were marks on her rear."
"What do you mean? Like a beauty mark or birthmark? A tattoo perhaps?"
"No sir. There were long thin lines . . . ." He raised his eyebrows questioningly although he already knew the answer. "I mean, they looked like red welts . . . as if she'd been beaten."
"Mmm. Who is this student? And how many marks were there?"
"It's Lauren Graham, and there were three. At least, three on her bottom . . . another three on her back."
"Do you have any reason to think she'd been abused?"
"No sir, or I would have come for you, I mean, come to you immediately. But she's doing very well in school, has lots of friends, and I even know her parents from a Parent/Teacher conference two weeks ago." She took another gulp."
"Why didn't you ask her directly?"
