Sabrina Barnes woke up Monday morning with a smile on her face. The weekend had been both pleasant and productive, for her and Pamela Evans. Hopefully the girl would follow her instructions, and take her threat seriously.
Although Sabrina had a pretty good feeling young Pamela would do just that.
She had barely started eating her breakfast when her cell phone rang. Wondering who this was to be calling so early, she picked it up. "Hello?"
"Sabrina, it's Rebecca."
"Rebecca. Hello," Sabrina said. "Is there something wrong?"
"No, there's nothing wrong. I just wanted to let you know that I was going through a pile of internship applications and just happened to come across an app with Pam's name on it. Apparently it was submitted well before she took your class."
"Okay," Sabrina said.
"You're sure this girl is the one you want?"
"Yes. You can play with her, too, you know."
"I know," Rebecca said evenly. "I just wanted to make sure the new pet smell hasn't washed off and you're having second thoughts."
"Nope," Sabrina replied confidently. "I want Pamela Evans."
"All right," Rebecca replied, stretching the words out.
"What's wrong with her?"
"Well," Rebecca said, still speaking slowly, as if choosing her words carefully, "I wasn't expecting you to choose a girl so young. Or black, for that matter."
"You weren't expressing any reservations at the party when you were fucking her, or eating her pussy."
"I just wanted to make sure you weren't having any doubts."
"No doubts," Sabrina said. "So would you stop asking? And if you want to play with her, just ask me, instead of this passive-aggressive bullshit that's so unlike you."
Sabrina heard a sigh, loud and clear. "Okay. I admit it. I want her. She's just the kind of pet I'd want for myself."
"Well then, hire her on permanently once she's graduated from school and she would come with me when I go to stay the night at your house next time."
"I suppose that's fair. I'll forward her application to our internship director."
"That latina you hired?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Well, have her come to the party this weekend and she'll get to meet Pam. Surely you pay Ana enough money?"
"More than enough. I'll give her my invite. Her and the lady who's going to be Pam's supervisor."
"Let her know she needs to behave. Both of them."
"I will," Rebecca promised. "Now, I have to go. I'm still getting ready for work."
"Me, too. Talk later."
"Bye."
"Bye."
Sabrina hung up with Rebecca, shaking her head. Men could be so much easier to deal with. They at least said what was on their mind, instead of making her guess. Even as a woman, Sabrina was sometimes not exactly right. Pretty close, but not on the bullseye.
As she continued to eat her breakfast, a thought crossed her mind. How was she going to communicate with Pam, once school was over with for the year, and especially when the girl was no longer her student? Calling the girl at home was sure to cause her parents to take notice. Next year, when Pam was no longer taking any classes from her, it would surely attract attention if Pam were to keep coming by her office -- official attention.
That was something Sabrina did not want. Therefore, discretion was in order.
A few bites later, Sabrina had the answer to her problem. It was both simple and elegant.
* * * *
Pamela Evans was just on her way down the hall towards her creative writing class, when she spotted Jimmy Waters, by himself, for once. It had taken her the whole week, patiently biding her time, but she finally managed to catch him without any of his friends.
A funny feeling sparked way down deep inside her at the very sight of him, dressed in the school's uniform, but no tie, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his broad chest. Perhaps it had to do with seeing him fucking their professor. Or perhaps it had been the sight of his hard muscles, his chiseled pecs and abs, as well as the stubble on his jaw and chin.
But she shook off the memory and called out, "Jimmy. Hey, Jimmy."
He turned around. "Yeah, Evans?"
"Hey, uhm...I wanted to, uhm...apologize. To you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. For, uhm, you know. Using your stories. I'm sorry. That was wrong. It won't happen again."
Jimmy looked surprised. Pleased, but also surprised. But he only said, "Okay. Cool. I'm glad to hear that. I had to speak to Professor Barnes about that."
"I know. I'm sorry." Pamela swallowed.
"Don't sweat it," Jimmy told her. "Apology accepted. Class is about to start. See you there, Evans."
And he walked off, turning the corner into their classroom. Pam found she could breathe again.
"Pam," she muttered, sounding frustrated. "My name is Pam."
Then she realized what time it was. Jimmy was right. She hurried the rest of the way down the hall to the classroom, sitting down just in time.
Her soft yet firm bubble butt barely touched the hard, wooden seat when Professor Barnes walked in, attired this time in a dark grey, sleeveless, ribbed-knit turtleneck dress and sky-high black patent leather peep-toe high heels.
Barnes also wore a very faint smile on her mouth as she looked at Pam.
Pam crossed her legs, scissor-tight. She could feel moisture in her panties. She squirmed in her seat. Now was not the time to get aroused.
Sabrina Barnes turned, put her attache case in the little cubbyhole in the lectern, and when she faced the assembled students, her face was all business.
"Good afternoon, class."
"Good afternoon, professor," the class replied back.
"I'm sure you're all well aware of what time of year it is. Yes, spring break is coming up very soon. Next week, I believe."
A ripple of laughter greeted these words.
"But I'm not referring to that. Specifically, for the second year students, it's time to select a major. A lot of you will have already begun taking prep courses for your major this year. But this will be the time to officially declare your major.
"The only reason I mention it is that I will not be seeing some of you in any of the more advanced classes that I teach. I have enjoyed getting to know all of you. And I wish you all well in whatever major you choose. Now, please get out your textbooks, and turn to page one oh five."
* * * *
Once class was done, Barnes said, "Please don't forget to turn in your homework before you leave, class. And on the Monday after spring break, we'll be discussing Chapter Ten of your textbook, so please come prepared for class."
There was a rustle of a groan as the class rose collectively from their seats, and approached Barnes at her lectern.
With a certain amount of quiet pride, Pamela Evans took the stack of printed sheets from her school bag and gave them to Barnes.
Barnes didn't say anything, but did give Pam an approving single nod.
Out in the hallway, Pam swallowed down her fear. She hoped that she wasn't doomed to fail this one class. But she remembered what Barnes had told her.
"As long as it is your work, I will read it."
Pam rested easy in the knowledge that, at the least, she had not borrowed from anyone's work to complete the homework. Whether it was any good or not, Professor Barnes would have to say.
As she had explained to Professor Barnes after the party last weekend, her mother had grown concerned last year that Pam had not taken a creative writing class yet. She still had one general education class to take, and in the spirit of killing two birds with one shot, had signed up for Creative Writing 101 -- The Basics of Creative Writing, only to find out, much to Pam's terror, that she had not a whit of talent, leading to the chain of events that had led her to...the party last weekend.
It was Friday -- near the end of the week, and right before spring break. Normally, Pam would be looking to crash a frat party and lying to her parents about it, but for some reason, that didn't appeal to her any longer -- the frat party, anyway.
Because she had a different kind of party to attend.
On Monday, that afternoon, after she got home from classes, Pam had gotten an email from Professor Barnes. It was a very long email, as well as peculiar. Mostly, it contained the username and password to an email address that Sabrina had set up for Pam.
As the email explained, Sabrina had set up the email account so she could send Pam instructions without raising any suspicions at school or at home, for when Sabrina was having one of her fetish parties that Pam was expected to attend. Pam had some latitude in exactly how she was dressed for these parties, but she was expected to wear what Sabrina asked of her.
For that, Sabrina Barnes explained she had an entire closet of the most beautiful outfits for Pam to wear, waiting for her at Sabrina's house. Pam was pretty sure that every single item in that closet was made to fit Pam and only Pam.
Pam wasn't sure how they got her measurements and didn't know, but was just as sure she didn't want to know.
As the email further explained, Sabrina couldn't exactly give Pam her instructions in class. And extra visits to her office on campus would get people talking and rumors flying. Although Pam was pretty sure that was nothing compared to what would happen if she were to get calls at home. Especially since, after this school year, Sabrina was no longer going to be Pam's professor, and it was just as obvious that creative writing was not going to be Pam's major.
So Pam got in the habit of checking this email inbox at least once every day.
Pam was still adjusting to her new situation. But it was preferable to having her parents come pick her up at school after waiting in the campus quad, after being expelled for plagiarism.
So, that Friday afternoon, with all her classes over with, and all her tasks done for the day, she went back to the tiny dorm room she shared with her room-mate Frankie, booted up her laptop and accessed her, uh, "other" email inbox.
It was a good thing she did, for in that inbox was confirmation that Sabrina wanted her presence for a party this very evening. A car was being sent for her. There was a password for the driver. And the last line of the email was very peculiar. It said, "Be sure to brush your teeth, especially your tongue, and rinse with mouthwash."
Pam didn't know what to make of that, but did it anyway. She hated to kiss a guy who hadn't bothered to brush his teeth.
Leaving a quick note for Frankie written on a sticky note stuck to the mirror over the bathroom counter, Pam stripped off her school uniform and changed into a white tank top, matching drawstring shorts, grabbed a pair of sandals, put them on, and then ran out to meet the car that was being sent for her.
She barely came down the stairs and out to the parking lot, when the car pulled in.
The driver hopped out. "Pamela Evans?"
"Yes," she said.
"I've been sent to fetch you."
"What's the password?"
The driver said the word in the email and held the back door open for her, so Pam got in, wondering what other students were thinking, if they were watching.
According to Sabrina's email, the other students were to be left thinking Pam had met a rich boyfriend. Pam agreed with the need for discretion. It would be bad for both of them if people even suspected their, ah, relationship.
Pam was just a little overwhelmed by all the brisk efficiency.
After a surprisingly quick but leisurely half an hour drive, the car pulled up to a large, wrought iron gate, where the driver pulled out a cell phone and pressed two buttons.
"Yes. It's me. I've got her." And she gave a code word.
With a clank, the gate opened inwards.
The car began to slowly roll forward.
It was then, as the car rolled down the tree-lined road, that Pam noticed the driver was...pretty. Pam didn't know how old the female driver was, only that she had beautiful china blue eyes, and pale, almost white-blonde hair, pinned up in a perky bun.
