Teaching Her A Lesson Pt 07

Teaching Her A Lesson

Part Seven: Collaborative Learning

"Looks like someone's got a case of the Mondays!"

The look I gave Mrs. Cook-Burfield, almost knocked her back a step.

"You know, like the movie?

Office Space

?" She smiled apologetically. "Sorry. You just look... you know. Tired. But who wouldn't, right? Thirty-some Mondays in and all. Geez, maybe

I

have a case of the Mondays."

After a moment, I forced a smile. "Yeah. Sorry, long weekend, but I still don't feel ready for the week. One of those, eh?"

"One of those. Hang in there, Mr. Canon."

"Yeah. You have a good one, Amy."

It was 6:45 when I let myself into my classroom that morning, fifteen minutes earlier than usual. I wasn't surprised to see my department head here this early. She'd only inherited the position last year and practically had a complex about proving herself. She was on the benefits committee, the extracurricular committee, hiring committee, PTA, and co-coached Academic Super Bowl. Somehow the woman even managed to raise a kid and keep a husband. Whenever I felt overwhelmed, I thanked my lucky stars I hadn't been afflicted by whatever ambition plagued Mrs. Cook-Burfield.

I hadn't been lying to her, either. It really had been a long weekend, and I really wasn't ready for the week. Candy, Isa and I had met in the kitchen to figure out how to deal with our little blackmailing issue, though we'd wound up letting the girls in on it in the end anyway. Better than leaving them huffing and grumbling by their lonesomes in the living room, pouting at being ignored. I'd bid them a grudging but thorough goodbye once we were as ready as we could be. Taylor, who'd hardly said a word since we'd scraped her body off the floor, ran to their car the moment she was given permission. Abbie practically begged me to give her a turn, but between finally getting off and the cloud of judgment Officer Barbour had brought to bear on the proceedings, I was having misgivings about the whole thing.

As for Isa and Candy, the former refused to discuss the subject of what she'd walked in on or the ensuing tasing (a "mild" one, she insisted); the latter made it plain that she blamed me without expressing a single word. I supposed it was up to them to handle it, at least for now. If they couldn't fix things, maybe I could try to find a way to intervene -- this time,

without

the Serenex.

After all, despite Isa's best efforts at researching it using her police resources, she hadn't turned up much. There was no mention of deliberately inducing the mind-altering effects we'd unwittingly discovered in their archives. Her thoughts were that considering how probable it was that spraying a crowd with the stuff would end with some of it being inadvertently ingested, she speculated that it was possible the canister I'd purchased had an impurity or defect. Common enough with black market drug purchases, or so she said. There was always the possibility of having the chemists in the regional crime lab run a test on it, but she warned that could raise red flags, force her to answer questions about where she'd gotten it, to say nothing of the possibility of not getting it back. For now, we'd hold off. For now.

As to the question of the duration of the effect, what she'd found was only marginally less useful. Serenex suppressed the fight or flight system in the brain, while the influx of its chemical compound damaged that portion of the brain in the process. In effect, it meant that the memories of being dosed couldn't produce those responses either. (I'd given Taylor props for applying the metaphor of a scar over the brain's panic button. Not perfect, but considering the source...) We had no way of knowing if that would extend to the added mind-altering effect, but it was cause for hope, at least.

(And yes, I recognized that having Abbie think of herself as my fuck buddy for the rest of her life was problematic in all sorts of ways, but it was preferable to having her wake up one morning and decide to stuff me in a trunk.)

Our business concluded, then it was home to do laundry, prep the week's lunches, and finish grading my juniors' tests over our read of

Night

. It was quite the transition, from the most intense sexual encounter of my life to assigning grades on a 5-point scale for responses to a Holocaust memoir.

It would make today easier, at least. My seniors and I would be transitioning out of that weighty subject matter with the help of a three-day viewing of

Toy Story 3

. They didn't believe me yet about its status as a Holocaust allegory, but they'd come around as their predecessors had in years past. My juniors were working on assessing bias in the media, so I filled the morning looking for a few different takes on some current events and headed down to the photocopier.

When Ms. Salata walked past me to check her mailbox on her way into the building, we nodded hellos to one another and went about our business. Nobody can know about my relationship with the Stern girls, and it only made sense to extend that rationale to Candy. Play it casual. Don't think about what she'd looked like spreading herself for me in the shower. Just keep collating. Get through the day.

One day a few years back, I'd dropped a marker while writing the day's standards on the board before school. When I bent to pick it up, I then managed to split my pants down the back. Too embarrassed to explain my predicament to anyone so I could get somebody to cover for me, I'd had no choice but to ride it out. Until lunch, I'd had to teach sitting in my chair at my desk. Then during my lunch period, I wrapped my jacket around my waist and darted home to change. It had been some of the most intense anxiety of my life. I'd been on edge for hours, knowing that if anyone found out, it would be all over school in minutes and take years to live down.

Today made that memory feel comical by comparison. Having even one person out there in the world who knew what I'd done -- one who wasn't part of our pact of secrecy, that is -- made it feel like anyone and everyone else might, too. I'd texted them to promise payment this evening, and they'd assured me they'd be in contact with instructions. No word as yet. Every minute I didn't hear from them was a minute closer to discovery.

"Oh my god, Mr. Canon! You're the worst!" exclaimed Billie during second period. My head jerked up from the essays I'd been grading at my desk. Oh no. Who'd told her?! How had she found out?! I should kick her out of class, send her to the office before she could tell everyone that--

"You guys, look, the toys are stuck hiding in the attic -- it's all Ann Frank and everything! You have ruined this movie for me!" Billie chided, laughing.

"No freaking way!"

"That's kind of a stretch, don't you think?"

"No, but look -- then they get sent off to the daycare, which is like a labor camp, right?"

"Dude!"

I shushed them and let the movie play on, my heart slowly sinking back down out of my throat and into its proper place.

Don't faint, Canon. You're not a pussy.

I made sure I hadn't peed my pants. Nope. Solid.

Needless to say, the grading wasn't going very expeditiously.

By the time sixth period rolled around, my final class of the day, I was feeling a bit better. In part, I had the girls to thank. Right before lunch, I saw Abbie in the hall leaving her own English class, but she ignored me altogether except to give me a dirty look when I lost sight of myself and stared a little too hard. Nobody seemed to notice, though. But a few minutes later as I flipped open my lunchbox, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was her, texting a picture of her shirt lifted over her bra in a bathroom stall.

NOW u can stare :P c u soon!

Stare I did.

As for Taylor, the first time I saw her all day was in class. She behaved as well as she had ever since I'd first had her write those words on my whiteboard. I tried to orient myself so I didn't have to look directly at her -- too distracting -- and did my best to forget she was there. To forget those mouth-watering tits, that gorgeous round ass, that sopping wet pussy. Those lips.

I'd fucked her. I'd fucked Taylor Stern. For like two seconds, technically, but I'd done it. Every time I caught one of her classmates checking her out, a common enough occurrence any day but particularly so in today's beige leggings and her v-neck shirt, I had to fight down a smug grin.

Eat your hearts out, losers. I've been there, and you never will. And yes, it was as incredible as we all imagined it would be and then some.

It was a bizarre high, but an intense one.

Taylor lingered for a moment after class. I made the handoff per the plan. She took it without a word, tucking it into her purse.

"Taylor, wait," I said as she reached the door. She paused, closed it, turned to face me. Her face was as imperious as ever; no one looking at her would think a thing had changed between us.

"What."

"About yesterday..."

When I didn't say anything, she rolled her fingers, prompting me. "Yeah? What about it?"

"Do you think we should talk about it?"

"I'm on the pill, if that's what you're worried about."

It hadn't been, but holy hell it should have been! "That's a load off."

When I once again trailed off, threw her hands up. "Is there anything else? Because I got somewhere to be, you know."

"No, I guess that's it for now."

"Fucking waste my time, why don't you. Asshole," she muttered as she threw the door open.

"Ms. Stern, hold it."

She once again froze, once again shut it. "Am I allowed to leave or not?"

"Come here."

With a sullen scowl, she stalked over to me. "Yeah?"

I placed a hand on her back. Wordlessly, with soft but unyielding pressure, I bent her over the top of my desk. Her leggings came down easily. "Thong today? Nice." It hadn't been twenty-four hours yet, but damn, had I ever missed her body.

It was her turn to be unresponsive. Leaving her in place, I snatched the scissors from their place on my desk and snipped first at her right hip, then her left, then pulled the stringy yellow panties free. I gave her naked ass a few soft pats. "All right, now you can go."

"You know, that's the second school day in a row that you've stolen my panties. If this is going to be a daily thing, lemme know so I can buy more underwear."

I tucked them into my pocket as she pulled her leggings back into place. Rubbing them between my fingers, I made an observation. "Doesn't feel like you mind so much to me."

"You do know that's not necessarily from being turned on, right?"

"Not necessarily. Sure. Now hurry up and get to class."

Her nostrils flared. I didn't stop her this time.

Part of me was chiding myself for doing something so rash without even having the door locked -- and during passing period no less, when the halls were thronging with people. But the bigger part of me told myself that was the old, pussified Mr. Canon speaking, and patted me on the back for bringing the girl to heel.

She would be on her way down to Officer Barbour's office now. There was nothing left to do but wait and see. If it didn't work out, I supposed I could take Isa and Candy up on their offer to empty their savings and pool it together to pay this lowlife off. Or, I tried not to tell myself, I could always pack up my girls and flee, start a new life somewhere far, far away.

And never leave my new bedroom again.

"Well?" I demanded an hour later. "Did it work?"

"Of course it worked. Why wouldn't it work?" Taylor folded her arms beneath her breasts.

"So? What happened?"

"She took the bait. I offered, she took it, smeared it right on. I even told her she needed a little more to make her lips really pop, and she put it on."

"Yes!" I pounded my fist on my desk. At this point, the school was emptying out. I didn't have to worry about making a little noise. Randi's vacuum was already audible down the hallway.

"Sure, cool. Anyway, I sent the text like we said, and she got called out like thirty seconds later. Never came back by the end of class. Her stuff was still sitting there a few minutes ago when I left."

"Good work, Taylor."

"Don't thank me. We used to be friends when I was still doing sports. Just don't go all psycho like Abbie, OK?"

"Speaking of, why don't you go out and wait with her. We will get some work done today, but I don't want you two around while we deal with this."

Taylor sneered. "What, you don't trust us?"

"Why would I."

"Mr. Canon... that hurts." Her sarcasm was kept nice and thick.

My solitude lasted only a few more minutes before the door opened again. Officer Barbour came in first, but right on her heels was our quarry. My blackmailer Cassie Brown.

I'd known Cassie for years, even before I started teaching. She and her mother Megan and little brother Robby were my next door neighbors. They'd lived there for many years before that, but I was the new guy on the block. I knew the family pretty well. Our grills were situated adjacent to one another on either side of the fence between our properties, and Megan and I would shoot the breeze while we cooked oftentimes. I'd always liked the lot of them rather well, and my sense had been that the feeling was mutual. I dog-sat for them when they were out of town, for crying out loud. Pepper and I were fast friends.

But Officer Barbour had traced the number to a prepaid phone, and had taken some "extrajudicial" measures to find out who paid for it. Luckily, Cassie had been stupid enough to use a credit card instead of paying cash. I remember talking to Megan only a couple months back about her apprehension about letting her daughter get a credit card. Had I supported the idea? Opposed it? I had enough conversations with parents about their students that my memories weren't a hundred percent.

It had floored me to learn that Cassie was behind this. Before this weekend, the most trouble she'd ever given me was the time she and some of her teammates were practicing in her backyard and bumped a volleyball over the fence and knocked over my bird feeder. Cassie had still been crying when she knocked on my door to tell me, horrified that she might have (but didn't) hurt some innocent bird. She'd always been such a good kid -- that made her perfidy all the harder to accept. Sweet, shy little Cassie Brown. I'd once thought of her as a friend of sorts. Now, she'd photographed me in a compromising situation and demanded a king's ransom to delete the evidence. I guess greed could be a powerful motivator.

However, thanks to Taylor's uncharacteristic generosity with the Serenex-infused chapstick I'd provided her after class, Cassie was dosed. Thanks to Officer Barbour, she'd been called down to the office and kept under close scrutiny to keep anyone from screwing with her before she could be delivered to me. The plan had gone off without a hitch.

Remembering the last time I'd had that confidence -- Saturday, moments before I'd had to improvise a second dose for Candy -- I hurried over to lock the door before I said a word, then gestured for Officer Barbour to stand guard in front of it while I handled things.

"Cassie. Have a seat."

"Yes, Mr. Canon." Terrified. That was the only word for her expression. Good. Served her right. This weak of a dose of Serenex ought to keep her pliable but not altogether suppress her personality. Well done, Taylor. (When was the last time I thought those words in this classroom?)

She took a spot near my desk. The desk in front of her made a handy perch for me, ideal for looming. Cassie was taller even than Taylor. Coach Howland had been crushed when Taylor's grades rendered her ineligible, but Cassie was her pride and joy. "Let's cut to the chase. Do you know what you're doing here?"

She swallowed, and it was audible. "I... no?"

"Really? Because I'd be willing to bet that you do. Sticking your nose in my property, prying into my business, cheating me out of my hard-earned money? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"But... but... this is about

that

?"

"Yes, Cassie. This is about that, that one tiny incident of you trying to screw me over. You really thought you'd get away with this?"

"I know I was being kinda pushy, but I didn't think it'd make you this mad!" Tears were already brimming up in her eyes, but I didn't have any sympathy for them.

"Didn't think I'd be mad?! Didn't think I had friends in law enforcement is more like it," I thundered, gesturing to my protector in the doorway. "If not for Officer Barbour, no doubt you'd be kicking my door down right now, demanding your little bounty. I was the one being taken advantage of! I thought we were friends, Cassie. I trusted you! And this is how you repay my good will?"

"I'm sorry! I thought I was doing the right thing!" she wailed. The girl had the audacity to start crying. It might have moved me were I still a pussy like I had been in those pictures, when she'd caught me in the act of struggling not to fuck Abbie Stern.

"The right thing? Right, the Send Cassie Brown to College Foundation, one of my favorite charities," I said snidely.

"Not just me," she mumbled.

"Right, you were thinking of others. It was a selfless act, antagonizing me. Your altruism is truly moving."

"Alt... what?"

"Self-sacrifice. Which, by the way, is what you've accomplished. Not in the way you might have intended with your little venture into entrepreneurship, but I've got a special remedy for predators like you, Cassie. Very special."

"Wait, am I in trouble? I didn't think it was that big of a deal!"

"Of course not. After all, what's a little blackmail between neighbors?"

"Blackmail!" Cassie exclaimed. "That's not...!"

"Not... what? Here's a vocabulary lesson, Cassie. When you take pictures of someone, threaten them, that's called blackmail. Now be quiet," I snapped. "Until we're done here, I don't want to hear another word out of you unless I tell you to. Do you understand?"

She nodded. It looked like she wanted to reply, but the Serenex was working. I'd been careful to avoid imperatives or any of the incidental identity-altering phrasing that had done its work on the others. Still, remembering the less pronounced results I'd gotten from Taylor's initial session, I wasn't settling for half measures when it came to this little would-be thief. I retrieved the Serenex from my briefcase and tilted her mouth open with my thumb. Her eyes were wide, frightened, but she didn't resist. Couldn't resist.

I'd have to repay Taylor for her role in this later. Maybe the people who made her chapstick, too.

She made a face at the acrid taste, but I didn't let her spit any out. Sure enough, after a few moments her posture relaxed. Her mind opened.

Blackmail me, will you? Now, you're mine.

"Try not to go too hard on her," cautioned Isa. It was the first she'd said since leading Cassie into my room.

"If I don't do at least twenty-five grand in damages, she can consider herself lucky."

"I mean it, Canon. I'm here to keep you out of trouble, not watch you violate students," she said evenly. "Again, that is."

I made sure Cassie wasn't paying attention, but like the others had, she was staring into space, oblivious to the world. With the others, I'd had to say their name, make noise in their face to get their attention, otherwise they didn't seem to absorb anything that was said. With Cassie sufficiently docile, I approached Isa more aggressively than I'd thought I ever could. The woman didn't budge in the least.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"I... what are you getting at?"

"You're my protector, right?"

She frowned. "Oh. Yeah, you know I am. You made damn sure of it."

"And what is your number one priority?"

"Keeping you safe and preserving your freedom."