Primrose High

This is the second chapter of Primrose High, a multi part story that will take at least five installments to complete. To avoid confusion I would recommend that you start reading with Chapter 1.

With the first two parts of this story I'm trying to have a strong focus on characterization, build up and foreshadowing, as well as (what I hope to be) a somewhat compelling and interesting plot. I'm hoping that the backstory and interactions of the characters will make future story events more impactful, instead of jumping straight into the screwing.

See my comments at the end of the post for thanks and plans for the next installment. I hope you enjoy reading.

All characters are over 18.

------

"Why did you first want to get to know me, Josh?"

"I thought you were hot."

Bethany sighed over her lunch, unimpressed. Or cold. The picnic table was metal, the season fall, and the breeze had decided to join them. "If you want to play it like that there's plenty of other guys who want to get with the easy girl."

Josh shook his head slowly and said in a low tone, "Were, not are." The two glanced around them. Outside the wide cafeteria windows there were several picnic tables, empty save one. There was no one to hear for meters around but the risk of someone, anyone, overhearing seemed too high. A week into their new school year and the amount of metal in the new admissions' faces and the hemlines had dropped noticeably; both had an inverse relation to the height of neck lines. Math humor was as dry as their math class, but despite the jokes it seemed like the new crop of students were dropping like flies.

Bethany cautiously pointed at one of the plastic hair Ken doll look alikes framed by the school windows, "Last week he tried to grope me on the bus, he made some lame joke about asking if my shirt meant the pussy was free. Everyone stood up for me and shamed him until he sat down. It was nice to have people stand up for me, but..." Bethany shivered, but not from the cold, and pulled her jacket closer. "They were all in unison, like some creepy children of the corn, but the weirdest thing? They weren't even mad. They were smiling. And that guy? He was terrified, and look at him now. The gauges in his ears are gone and I can't even see the holes. I didn't even learn his name."

"He's not dead. You know you could still find that out."

"I know that, assho..." Bethany cleared her throat as she caught herself. Her mouth was a rictus as she spoke, "That's assuming he's still the same person, you jerk. One day he's trying to grope me and the next day he's posing for Ralph Lauren. "

Josh nodded, even his false bravado was wearing thin. Two weeks and the goths, punks, rockabillies and all the rest were heading one by one to the local outlet store to trade in their clothes for nice, well pressed khakis and polos. "I wish I understood it, Bethany. And I wish I weren't so scared. I hate to admit it, I hate it, but if only the school was pushy, shoving pamphlets at us, or if we saw some hint of rebellion or irony in the other students, but I don't think the groper is the kind of guy capable of that."

Bethany nodded staring down firmly at her food. "Let's talk about something else. You didn't answer my question earlier. And isn't that your sister's name? It creeps me out, like you're some hillbilly from Bumblef..." She caught herself again; they may not want to admit it, but they were being affected too.

Josh stood and draped his jacket around Bethany's quivering shoulders. "That is my sister's name, but I call her Beth so it's only a little incestuous."

"You're evading, Josh, as my therapist used to say. Tell me why you first wanted to hang out with me, or I swear I'm going to pull out a floor length skirt and do my hair up in a bun."

Josh sighed, trying not to shake noticeably from the cold, "You were hot, I'll admit that was why I wanted to at first. Hey, wait, I'm not done," Josh said, gesturing for Bethany not to get up."But, I also saw that you pretending."

Bethany arched an eyebrow.

"I'm serious, you never talk about anything remotely sexual, you make a point not to touch anyone in any way, you're always adjusting your clothes, and not to show more, you're always stiff, trying to remember not to slouch, and honestly, you don't flirt for a second. You were interesting. I think you're the same as me, and that neither of us belong here."

Bethany shook her head, "No one does, this place is a freak show."

"You know what I mean, I don't think you deserve the reputation you're trying to create."

"You don't think I'm a slut?" Bethany asked pointedly.

"No."

Bethany pulled up the hood and shook her head so her short bangs hung in front of her face, "I think you're an idiot. Possibly. Either you're playing the long con, or you're sincere."

"And when will you know which it is?"

"You'll know when I decide. And no one but my father calls me Bethany, please call me Imee."

Josh did his best to keep his face neutral, but the smile still managed to creep in at the corners of his mouth. As they got up at the sound of the bell Josh thought, just maybe, that under the shadows of Imee's hood he could see the hint of a smile there too.

------

Since the start of the school year--two weeks or a lifetime ago--Josh and Imee had shared classes. With the school's block scheduling and the small number of students two of their four daily classes overlapped. Besides the very calm, very uneventful lessons Josh had decided to also brave the bus. The list of reasons was long: Beth was unbearable, which was a given; also with how the school was, being the dork riding the bus meant nothing, and most importantly, Imee was on the same bus route.

They'd sat together in the mornings, huddled together for protection from the cold and the very nice, very sincere students. Though they were careful not to sit too close or be called out for unacceptable behavior.

It was Friday again and finally a chance to escape their new prison. The first weekend had felt like waking from a bad dream. Then on Sunday night reality set in that, no, this was the new normal. Primrose was no going to disappear and vanish.

The weather had turned cold, wet and miserable. Josh's stop was 30 minutes before Imee's. She had stayed on, riding to her home before walking back to his house; getting off at the same stop seemed too risky. Josh was now waited, staring at the unfinished ceiling of the basement, trying not to think of anything important. During his time away Josh's old room had been turned into a study and he had turned into a mole man, living in the basement. At least the unfinished basement was quiet and after some contemplation he had figured out which below-ground dwelling outcast he was. Josh decided that he was the Phantom of the Opera, roaming the depths to emerge from underground and snatch away fair maidens using only his silver tongue. Josh laughed, picturing himself seducing Imee with an overly dramatic song.

"Laughing alone in a dark basement is really, really fucking creepy, I'll have you know."

Josh smiled broadly, looking up the stairs that lead back up into the house. "Hi."

"Hi yourself." Imee bounced loudly down the creaking steps into the basement. "God it's cold out there! It just had to start pouring as soon as I got off the bus. Can I used your drier? I'm soaked." Imee's hair clung to her forehead and drops of cold, fall rain ran down her flushed cheeks. Despite it all she still managed to look stunning.

Josh sighed dramatically, "Yeah, I guess... It's no problem, really. The basket on the top is clean. You can wear anything of mine that you want until your clothes are dry."

Imee's teeth chattered. "Thanks, I really appreciate it. Are we cool hanging out down here? I'm not going to get you in trouble with your parents, am I?" Imee started to pull off her shirt, stopped and twirled her finger and Josh obediently turned to face the wall.

"My sister won't be home until late, she works after school at KFC and she's not off until nine. My mother is away on business for the foreseeable future, at least another few weeks. I'm not supposed to have anyone over, and Beth will not do me any favors, so..."

"Good to know. I understand, I'll scurry out a window if I need to." There was a wet squelching noise and metal bong as a piece of Bethany's clothes plopped into the drier.

"Did you hear that they're planning to separate girls and boys into separate classes so that there would be no, 'distracting influences,'?" Josh called over his shoulder.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Imee yelled angrily, something heavy and wet plopped on the floor.

"I know." Josh sighed watching the abstract shadows of Imee dancing on the walls and boxes on the far side of the room and tried not to fantasize. At least not too much. "I don't know what's going on. There are probably plans by the Gulag to build lovely camps in the back of the school for beneficial exercise in the refreshing winter air."

"I don't like this at all." For a long while neither of them spoke. The silence was broken only by the rustling sound of fabric, then there was silence. Josh turned slowly. "Imee?..." She was standing with her side to him examining a pair of sweatpants and wearing nothing. Her copper legs were thin and long, but curved with liquid flowing calves and smooth thighs. There was a wisp that he could see from the side that hinted at a dainty, dark bush. Faint tan lines traced up over her hips and then curved to caress her small, tight ass, which was round and high like her breasts. Imee's breasts were dusted with goosebumps and her nipples were dark, small, and very hard. Imee glanced up and their eyes met. Quickly she turned away and covered herself. Josh coughed and turned back sharply. "Sorry! I didn't mean to peak, I thought you were done."

Josh heard the sigh of cloth on skin and then footsteps as Imee walked towards him. She wrapped his arms around his neck and her wet hair tickled his ear, as did her lips. She whispered to him as softly as her lips brushing his ear, "You passed."

"Wait, were you testing me?"

Imee recoiled away as if she'd been slapped. She covered her chest defensively with a faded shirt as he turned to face her, "No! Well, yes. I'm sorry, please, please don't be mad. I just, I'm not good at this. I'm not... You're right, I'm not how I dress. I wanted to be sure that's not what you wanted. I hate mind games but I needed to know you wouldn't try to take advantage of me."

"I understand, I guess. It's okay, I didn't mean anything by it." Josh felt his chest flutter at the look of relief that washed over her face. Imee's smile was brilliant. Shyly Imee dropped her hands, baring her small breasts.

"...I thought you didn't want me to look." Josh said, unsure, turning away slowly while his eyes lingered on Imee's bare skin.

"I did, I do. This peek is for free, so make sure it counts." Josh turned back to face Imee. She was breathing hard, standing there in only a worn pair of sweatpants, as Josh's eyes slowly moved over her. She winked as she slowly, slowly pulled the faded sweatshirt over her head. She had the body of an athlete; her breasts were small and perfect, as were her nipples which were dark and delicate. The shirt slid over them, and down over her tight, flat stomach, around her slim waist. The sweatpants she was wearing were too small in all the right ways and hung low on her hips, a wisp of her pubic hair brushed the too loose elastic band. Josh followed the lines of her stomach as they slid deliciously below the waistband until they disappeared as the old sweatshirt that he had once loved, and now hated, hid them away.

"God you're beautiful." Josh said, trying to not to sound hoarse.

When Imee's head popped out of the the sweatshirt she was blushing just a little. "As long as all you need is a mouthful, I guess. I'm way too gangly. I'm like a bag of coat hangers." She turned and fell heavily next to him on the couch, rubbing a towel through her damp hair. "Keep it up Casanova, flattery will get you far. I'm glad you're calling me Imee. Because really, I'm in your house, probably wearing your sister's clothes. I'd be worried you really are one of those sister fucking hillfolk."

"It's my pleasure. What type of name is that?"

"A middle name, and my grandmother's. Dad wanted a good old fashioned American name, mom wanted something from her family. I want to avoid being my father's daughter as much as possible. But now we're getting into my baggage when we could be doing something more fun," Imee leaned in and gave Josh a delicate peck on the cheek as she inched closer and put his arm around her. "You saw my boobs, tiny though they are, I think you can take the next big step and cuddle with me a little." Imee yawned, "All this mushy bonding stuff is great, but do you have any ideas on what we can do about Primrose?"

Josh nodded and pulled out his laptop. "I've already been doing some investigating. There's not too much, but there's some." The articles from four to five years ago were sparse and short. A small, unknown reform school didn't draw much press. The few articles Josh had found were rather harsh reviews in small conservative blogs and newsletters. They did hint at internal problems at Primrose; budget difficulties, poor enrollment, low satisfaction and high recidivism. Then, a year ago, something changed. The transformation in students was miraculous and the local paper had a piece from parents saying how their troubled children had turned around and were now model citizens and happy people. A follow up to the newsbyte on the Primrose homepage mentioned again the member of the state board of education's interest in the school's revolutionary teaching method.

Though there was no reason a long time hire, or a group or people for that matter, couldn't have been responsible hiring dates of staff made a couple faculty suspicious. Nichole Willis, guidance counselor, and Katie McTigue, health instructor. Josh and Imee spent a long night looking up the class and faculty rosters. Most had only a few entries on professional networking sites or mentions in previous schools or college newspapers. After hours of searching they hadn't found any concrete information on Ms Willis; the few possible matches were far from certain. Well after midnight Imee threw up her arms. "Yes!"

Josh jerked awake, "What did you find?"

"I don't think it's just the students that are going through this initiation thing. It may be at least some of the teachers too. I found something on Ms. McTigue."

"The one that was hired a little before Willis?

"Yeah, tiny redhead, hair always pulled back? That's the one. She was hired about a year and a half ago, six months into their lackluster year and six months before Primrose got really culty. Now, look at this." Imee showed him the minor news scandal in a local paper on the other side of the country. Katherine, or Katie McTigue, had been a teacher at another high school and had been fired over an incident involving a post by her on Facebook; something offensive and sexual, the article mentioned. The author went on to quote Ms McTigue as saying in the post that she, "...wanted to give some of her students a good spanking".

"Okay..." Josh said, unsure.

"This is the good part." Imee said, grinning, "The picture wasn't in the article, but I looked around and I found a mirror on some kid's blog that was in her class. The comment in the article was attached to this picture."

Imee switched to another tab and Josh's jaw dropped. "Woah." He said, staring.

"Hey, keep staring like that and you might make me jealous." Imee winked as she poked Josh in the side. Ms McTigue almost looked like a different person. Her wavy red hair spilled down around her shoulders, parting and breaking like waves over the tops of her breasts before sliding on down out of the picture. She was holding her thick librarian glasses and chewing on one end suggestively. The dress she was wearing was tiny, tight, leather, and not school appropriate. The deep maroon leather was cut low and showed off and framed her breasts stunningly, pushing them up into mountains of cleavage. Held between her breasts she had a red Sharpie. "Bad girl," was written across her breasts in red marker.

"That's her?!" Josh exclaimed.

"Oh yeah, 100% sure. Apparently that was meant to be a private message to her boyfriend or something and she made a mistake and posted it publicly. Some students copied and spread the picture around before she could delete the post. There was a long investigation and they couldn't find any inappropriate behavior between her and her students, but the teacher's union had a hard time backing her, considering the picture and what she said. The school didn't fire her, but she was forced to resign. There's almost no activity online from her for a year or two then she shows up at Primrose. I can't find any posts by her not long after that."

"What do you think it means?"

Imee shrugged, "I have no idea. But, that woman," she pointed at the picture, "is Jessica Rabbit. She's ridiculously hot and pure sex. Hell, I'd do her in a heartbeat. And you can lower that eyebrow. Don't lie, you would too, given the chance. But look at her now. She's what, a double D here, maybe bigger? And I saw older pictures of her with students, I found picture with her students not long after she resigned in her support and she still looked like a teacher, nothing outlandish, but fashionable and fun, if sad. She must have had something done, she can't be more than an B now. I can understand toning back how you dress after something like that happened, but not surgery. And now she dress like a granny and is so... Primrose, I guess. Can I say something crazy?"

"Imee, we've been living in crazy for weeks. I'm all ears."

"Do you think they're brainwashing students?"

Josh opened his mouth and started to shake his head and then shrugged. "Sure, I'm not going to reject that."

They looked at each other lit only by the blue glare of the laptop screen, and the shimmering red of Ms McTigue's former self. "It's really late, Josh, almost three. Do you mind if I stay here?"

"Of course not!" Josh flinched, realizing how overeager he'd sounded. "You can have the couch, bed, pullout. Whatever. I'll get a sleeping bag or something and take the floor."

Imee shook her head, "I'll take the floor, I'm not going to kick you out of your own bed."

Together they pulled the couch out, wincing at how loud the springs and hinges screeched, and collected spare blankets from old boxes. There were no moths, though some corners had been gnawed by mice in years past and all the blankets smelling faintly of age and disuse.

"You're sure about this?" Josh asked, sitting in bed.

The pile of blankets on the floor shifted as Imee's head emerged from under the edge of a quilt. "I kind of like it, I never lived anywhere long enough to have boxes hidden away. Everything always smelled clean. This feels homey. It's nice. Plus I feel like a hamster, which is also nice."

Josh laughed as Imee nibbled at an invisible cracker, "If you say so. Goodnight, Imee."

"Good night Josh." Josh pulled a string and the lights went out. "Thank you for this."

"That's what friends are for." Josh said, yawning. In the dark Josh could hear a sniff, and then another. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm just happy, is all. Don't worry about me." The bed sagged and groaned. "And I changed my mind."

"You decided you're kicking me out of bed?" Josh asked, scooting to the side as Imee slid under the blankets.

"No, but if I was I would be doing you a favor, this thing is ancient. I just want," Imee faltered. "Just, hold me."

Josh wrapped his arm around Imee, ignoring the wetness of the tears on her cheek and they held each other like they were in a storm and any moment one of them could be swept away.