Teaching Her a Lesson

"There's not enough."

And that was that.

________________

I am not a pussy, but I wasn't superhuman either, nor did I cleave to that tired but persistent belief that crying is a sign of weakness. I owed Isa big time, though. The fact that I was trying and mostly failing to stop sobbing with self-pity in the seclusion of my own home instead of festering in a jail cell was entirely her doing. Maybe a small nod to me for having the foresight to enslave her in the first place.

(Yes, enslave. No sense pussyfooting around the term now. Not when the whole city - the whole country, maybe, if this thing got traction - was going to be using it to describe me soon enough.

Acclimate, Canon.

)

Still, no matter Isa's insistence that they couldn't arrest me for something the girls had done, their exposure (pun intended) had done more than enough damage. I didn't know how much Principal Horen had overheard of their damning greeting, but she'd certainly

seen

plenty. The girls had been dragged to the office by Horen in anticipation of contacting their parents. Me, I'd been all but punted out the building ahead of them. By now, she'd contacted Megan, the Hutchings, Mr. and Mrs. Stern. Taylor's mom and Abbie's dad. The police department. Amy Cook-Burfield. The superintendent. Those were the ones I was sure of. If one were being paranoid, Mrs. Horen's contact list might extend to Mr. Horen, the district's lawyers, my union rep, someone from HR. Her favorite bartender, maybe, after the night she'd no doubt been having.

I was grateful to Megan for taking the risk of serving as a mule to deliver Abbie's package. She alone among all involved parties could contact me without suspicion. The look of pure wrath on her face as she stormed across our lawns had put a fright in me even knowing her real purpose. Even so, the pathetic trickle in the canister was hardly enough to make noise, much less take down everyone who now had access to our secret. If I used it as sparingly as I had on Taylor's chapstick, it would still be too little.

Per Isa's advice, uttered in haste as she'd escorted me to my vehicle in the faculty lot, I avoided calling her or any of the others. Still, thanks to Megan and her blackmailing burner phone, I had access to a safe line. As the rings sounded in my ear, my neighbor kneaded my shoulders softly but intently.

"Canon?"

"It's me."

"About time you called. You know, I've been meaning to tell you, you're not the easiest guy to run security for."

I gritted my teeth. Megan winced as tense muscles turned to stone. "You know, considering preventing this exact thing was your main job..."

"Really, master? You want to blame today on me? Do I even need to explain to you the dozen different ways this was your fault?"

It didn't help that she was right. I was the idiot who'd let Abbie get away with that idiot stunt at Gooses. Who'd gone to that dive motel with her after. Who'd routinely used his classroom as a sexnasium. Who hadn't even told his pet cop about his latest acquisition. "Surprised you could manage to place blame without falling to your knees," I replied cattily.

"I was on my knees the moment I heard your voice, and now I'm so pissed off at you I can't stop masturbating. So thanks for that." She was masking it well. I might not have heard the unevenness in her voice if she hadn't called attention to it.

"Yeah, because you're the one having a bad day." Megan switched to teasing her fingernails along my neck, sidling up behind me to offer her breasts as a neck pillow. It was going to do as much to relax me as any massage. "Anyway, talk to me. What's going to happen?"

"Let's start with what's already happened. Parents have been notified, and the girls were interviewed by Horen. They did good, kept their mouths shut like I told them. Still, it might be too little too late. The department's been notified too, so they'll be grilled more thoroughly soon, probably tomorrow. I don't think Horen overheard enough to suspect I'm in on it, but she thinks we're friends so I'm on the outs with her anyway."

"Parents. Jesus. How did they take it?"

"Well I assume you can answer for Mrs. Brown on your own, since you called me from one of her phones. The Sterns couldn't be reached, so she left messages for now. As for Tabitha - and thanks for giving me the heads up on that addition, by the way - her mom came in and met with Horen privately, but... yeah, I wouldn't put yourself alone in a room with her. Same goes for Tabitha, I expect."

"Tabitha's mad at me?"

"Huh? No, I meant her mother's pissed at her, too."

"Oh." That felt... not better, but less bad maybe. "Anything else?"

"If it wasn't clear already, Serenex is out as a solution. There's way too many who know now, and it's only getting worse. There's Horen herself, Cook-Burfield, at least a couple officers, parents-"

"I know. I already figured. Abbie got the rest of the canister to me, but it's practically fumes."

Megan wordlessly lifted her top above her breasts, wrapping her big bare tits around my head. They were weighty enough that I didn't even need to hold onto the phone any more, their weight pressing it there firmly. I reached back and pinched her ass appreciatively.

Isa continued, "Right. So... looking ahead, there's going to be an investigation. Hard to say how it'll go, but we're going to make them work for it at least."

"Hard to say how it'll go? My boss - ex-boss - has a video of me making out with a student in a bar, and walked in on three other students waiting for me half-naked in my classroom. How the hell can this be anything other than a one-way ticket to Fuckedville? Am I missing something? Some exculpatory miracle?"

"Hey, I won't lie; it doesn't look good. Still, it's not all bad. All of the girls are going to help cover for you, and without their testimony, they won't find out about all the

really

bad shit. I've already made the rounds, and we're agreed on a story. As far as anyone's concerned, the whole thing this afternoon was a stupid prank initiated by the Sterns. Cassie and Tabitha will say they were bullied into it."

"Bullied. Into showing me their asses, in school. Are you serious?"

"Kids these days, ya know. It's stupid, but they can't lock you up for something someone else did to you, and I'd be surprised if they'd risk taking this to trial when every witness will swear you had no knowledge of it. Not sure what fallout will hit the girls, but less than would come down on you."

Interesting. I suppose under normal circumstances, the girls would probably confirm Horen's assumption. Without their word, I could claim I'd been as surprised as the principal had been. Flimsy, but maybe a reasonable doubt? "What about the bar, though? She has a copy of the video. She matched Abbie's dress to her own prom pics."

"That's going to be trickier. How much had you had to drink that night? Enough that your friends would agree you weren't operating at peak efficiency?"

Megan pulled her breast to the side, then released it, letting the mound of jiggling flesh slap against my cheek playfully. "Some. I was probably tipsy, but I wasn't drunk. Why, are we supposed to claim she roofied me or something?"

"No, but if you were drunk enough, you might not have recognized her. She's not one of your students, after all, which might muddy the waters enough to give you plausible deniability. If she were still a minor, it wouldn't matter, but the codes on teachers banging students have a higher burden of proof of intent."

"You're sure?" It sounded too easy. Way too easy. I hadn't expected to be peddled hope, especially not from Louisa Barbour, a woman who'd called me a child molester to my face.

"I'm sure you have a chance. Not all of your fuck slaves lie as well as the Sterns, and there's no telling what else they'll dig up. We don't know who else has suspicions that may come forward. Plus they'll likely check your phone records, so we'll need a reason why you made any calls to your girls. I figure we can explain Taylor with your after school meet-ups, and Abbie we'll say she used her sister's phone and you just assumed it was Taylor at an alternate number. You were helping Cassie do some SAT retake tutoring as a favor to her mom, I figured, in case you two ever used phones."

"Huh. All right, I guess that makes sense. Sort of."

"They won't be able to get copies of your text messages, thank god, so just make sure you do like I told the girls and delete anything incriminating."

I squeezed Megan's tits tighter around my head, a warm, fleshy security blanket. "What about surveillance?"

"Surveillance?" she repeated incredulously. "Canon, you're an English teacher, not Jason Bourne. I suppose they might put your house on a patrol route. It shouldn't need saying, but given your penchant for ignoring the obvious, it's a bad idea to have your pets over, just in case they get nosy or your usual penchant for fucking everything up strikes again."

"Man. Lied to by TV once again. Guess you guys are more useless than I thought."

I'd thrown in the barb just to titillate her, and was rewarded by the addition of a slight tremor in her voice as the rage translated into heightened arousal. "Canon, at worst, you're some lucky prick who got to do what half the assholes at the precinct only wish they could. They don't tap phones and do stakeouts for guys like you."

"For an accused child molester, even? Sorry, just... not what I expected."

She clicked her tongue reprovingly. "First off, they're not children. You're all adults in the eyes of the law. If you weren't their teacher, you could fuck them all day every day and nobody could say boo. Second, that's not what you're accused of. The charge is a teacher engaging in sexual conduct with students. What they've seen doesn't look good, but they didn't walk in on... well, any of the hundred-odd incidents that would be damning."

Hearing it that way was at least some relief. Not much, but some. "How do you rate my odds?"

She was quiet a moment; I could hear Candy in the background prodding her to admit she'd just come in her panties, Isa shushing her. "It's hard to say, master. Horen wants your head, that's for sure. Still, all she has is girls who will all swear you knew nothing about their state of undress, and a grainy video of what's probably a student kissing you in a bar. If I were you, I'd be getting in touch with my union and contesting the charges. You'll look a lot less guilty if you formally deny it. Innocent men tend to fight back."

"Huh. So you really think we could get away with it?"

"I don't think we have any choice but to try."

________________

We spent some time going over the particulars. It was determined that our story about the Gooses incident would be that I didn't recognize Abbie until after we left the dimly lit bar, at which point I spurned her and sent her home untouched, then was subsequently too mortified to tell anyone. Her outrage at that rejection was Abbie's motive for pushing her sister, a girl with a well-established record of despising me, to fuck with me as she had after school. The Sterns had gotten compromising information about Cassie and Tabitha at a recent party at Cassie's house, using it to coerce them into joining her. I was the victim, not the perpetrator.

Like

Wild Things

, basically, except without the circular firing squad.

Horen would never believe our little fiction, but she didn't really have to. We had only to satisfy the detective, help them present such a mild case that it drifted away in a cloud of he-said/she-said. Horen could try to fire me for what she thought she'd seen, but when it came to the judicial end of things, it was nebulous. Maybe not as nebulous as I'd like, but Isa succeeded in convincing me that it wasn't over.

"So you're going to pawn this all off on Cassie and the girls?" inquired Megan in between casual slurps on my cock. It was late, now, closer to the sun's next rising than its prior setting. Megan had tasked Cassie with putting Robby to bed so she could stay over here and work on her debt. She'd been doing so for hours now, rotating from method to method as orifices and limbs grew fatigued. I'd taken a nap after dinner, during which time she'd taken a break to quietly tidy the house. Then it was back to work.

"That's the real question, isn't it," I non-answered. There had been no judgment in her tone; she was merely helping me process. "If I don't, I'm done. There's no other reason besides the truth why those idiot girls would be in my classroom half-naked and grinning."

She wiped a tear from her eye brought on by a fresh effort at deep-throating. Mere weeks of practice and her daughter was already surpassing her. Still, big tits and a round ass went a long way toward taking me away from my troubles. "And if you do?"

"Then... I don't know. If we can sell our story, the Sterns will be expelled. Cassie and Tabitha too, maybe." There had been a boy my first year teaching who had claimed one of the PE teachers had made sexual advances on him at a track meet, though he hadn't counted on a friend betraying him and admitting the kid had made it up. That boy had been tossed out of GHS so hard I wasn't sure he'd landed yet. "Somebody's head is gonna roll for this. I just don't know."

"If that's what happens, how are you going to feel about that?" Again, no judgment. Lord, I'd done a number on her.

"Shitty. So shitty. Cassie and Tabitha never did anything wrong. They're great. Hell, even the Sterns don't deserve expulsion." I reflected. "Not for this, anyway."

She let her hands take over for her mouth, only sucking me off now when I was talking. "There's always GED programs. They wouldn't have to do much to finish them, considering their situations."

"You know that's not the same." Megan had a GED herself, and she'd complained more than a few times about the distinction in the eyes of employers, especially when she'd been younger. "Besides, they earned it. I'd never forgive myself if I cheated them out of a rite of passage like this. But then, I also really, really don't want to go to prison." Or explain to my mom why I lost my job. Ugh.

"So then... quit. You could quit, right?"

"Quit? I can't quit. This is my job. My

calling

. This is what I was meant to do. Without this job..." I shook my head. "What good would it do the girls to quit anyway?"

"Tell your b.s. story, get them to drop charges. Then trade Horen your dismissal for their graduation."

I snorted. "You say 'drop the charges' like it's a guaranteed thing."

Megan took the time to give me a few dozen bobs before replying. It was oddly frustrating, this first moment in my life where I was more interested by words coming out of a woman's mouth than my cock going into it. "Tell ya what, I think you've got a real shot here, buddy. From what Isa was telling me earlier, the Sterns have disciplinary records as long as my legs. Cassie even told me Abbie was already expelled once in middle school. People would believe they'd do something like that." She paused, swished a finger in her mouth and flicked something irritably. "Sorry, pube. But seriously, this is the

cops

we're talking about - they live for the chance to ignore allegations of sexual misconduct by men. At my old job at the cannery, at least half a dozen women made complaints about our manager and they didn't lift a damn finger until they found out he was hiring illegals. Some bro dicking hot babes? Hero. But let a few Mexicans try to make a buck and blammo, they're out in force."

"What would

you

do, if you were me, Megan?"

"I'd use the last of that Serenex shit on Bradley Cooper, that's what I'd do. I love me some Bradley Cooper." She chuckled. "Look, I don't know what to tell you. You don't want to go down for it. You don't want to throw the girls under the bus. You don't want to go for a plea. I guess you just gotta figure out what you want, and what you can live with."

I put her mouth back to work as I mulled it over. Maybe this would all blow over. It sure didn't feel like it, but as someone who'd taught

Crime and Punishment

three years running, I knew that my sense of guilt over what I'd done outweighed the evidence against me. By the time Megan coaxed a grudging spurt of cum out of my balls, I was no closer to peace of mind nor to a plan for dealing with Horen, but the distraction had been fun while it lasted. I wasn't sure what I could live with, but as I considered a life separated from my ladies, I was more certain than I wanted to admit about what I couldn't live without.

________________

Tuesday morning I contacted my union rep to appeal my dismissal and for legal counsel. They rushed somebody out before noon, a tired-looking fellow named Capaldi with wire-frame glasses and only a few lonely hairs left on his head. I explained my situation using the lies I'd settled on with Isa. We were still talking over what to expect when I got the call from someone at the police department asking me to come in for questioning as soon as possible. The appointment was set for that afternoon.

I'd driven past the place a thousand times without a second glance, an old brick building next to the courthouse. It was on my route to the high school. Nonetheless, it was a daunting thing, walking into that police department with all that guilt weighing me down. I couldn't escape the feeling that I would never leave, like they would ask the perfect question and I'd be left with no choice but to confess all my sins and throw myself at their absent mercy.

Capaldi and I were led to a sparsely decorated office. It was nothing like what I'd expected, some concrete cell with a heavy steel door, a hanging lamp and a window through which their profilers might observe me, watching every word for signs of guilt. Instead, the dread interrogation chamber was brightly lit and comfortably furnished, more welcoming than my reception the day before in the principal's office. It was cozy, almost. Disarming. Perhaps that was the point.

The occupant of the office was a heavyset man close to my father's age who introduced himself as Nick Shipman. I shook his hand, he asked permission to record, and off we went.

The interview proceeded about like how Isa had said. Maybe because she was the school's resource officer, I'd been doubtful about her knowledge of more conventional police proceedings. Not so. He asked about the incident at Gooses, and I explained my version of events - my impaired state, my swiftness to reject Abbie once I recognized her, her anger at being pushed away. Shipman asked why I didn't go back in to rejoin my friends, but I said I was feeling too confused and upset by what had happened to be good company.

From there, it was a checklist of sorts, asking about my relationship with each of the three bare-assed and/or bare-pussied high school girls who'd been discovered in my room the day before. I explained what I could and lied my ass off about what I couldn't. As to contact with them outside of school, I vaguely replied that Taylor and I kept in touch about her makeup work; remembering the handful of texts to Tabitha, I claimed that she had asked me to write a letter of recommendation for her and we'd briefly corresponded, as well as a few other times earlier in the year regarding special projects for her honors credit - in case they were that thorough. That last part was actually true, but nonetheless felt as deceitful as the rest to say.

All in all, it was fairly pointed and easy to navigate the simple lies we'd constructed. As near as I could tell, he didn't try to sweat me out, trip me up, entrap me, or press on the weaker points. I'd subjected students to greater scrutiny about lengthy trips to the restroom. Still, I reminded myself that they could always call me back in again - or drag me back in - and it could simply be some cop trick to make me feel comfortable enough to let something slip.