Unbelievable 9

A casual observer of Sara Daniels would never realize just how angry she was right now.

A close friend or a family member might notice the tiny narrowing of the corners of her green eyes, behind glasses that she had tilted ever so slightly downward. They might spot the way her full, ruby lips pursed as she looked over the sheaf of papers in front of her--not like a lover might pucker up for a kiss, but rather like a Victorian maiden aunt might react on seeing a naked man in her bed. They might notice that her bun of flame-red hair had been pulled back just a little bit tighter than usual, with the deliberation of a samurai preparing for battle. Only those who knew Sara very, very well and were aware of her predilection for icy fury instead of fiery rage would understand the depths of her anger at this moment.

But if there were any such people in Sara's office, they'd have taken one look at Sara's face and made a run for it.

Sara's secretary, Miss Bleddows, was blessedly unaware of her employer's moods as yet, and as such thought nothing of interrupting the new headmistress. "Miss Daniels?" she asked, after a cursory knock on the door. "Miss Black is here, as you requested."

"Please," Sara replied, "send her in." She uttered the words with such cold precision that she could have cut glass with them. Miss Bleddows ducked back out, and after a moment, the door re-opened to admit another woman.

Sara looked at Veronica Black appraisingly. She was all too familiar with the woman's file, but Sara had never seen her in person before this moment. Veronica looked more like one of the students than an instructor, and a young prodigy at that; she was a waif of a girl, with the slim hips of a dancer and almost no chest to speak of, and long dark hair that was pulled back into a girlish ponytail. But one glance at Veronica's flinty gray eyes convinced Sara that she had the right woman...and that all of her suspicions about Veronica Black were true. "Please," she said after a moment, giving the word a biting tone. "Sit down."

"Of course, Miss Daniels," Veronica replied, taking a seat and gazing unflinchingly across the desk at Sara. Her feet barely reached the floor, but she held herself with the bearing of a calm, confident adult. Sara could tell that the other woman obviously had no suspicions of the tirade she was about to deliver. "What can I do for you, Headmistress?"

"As I'm sure you're aware, Miss Black," Sara began, theatrically glancing down at the papers in front of her, "I took over as Headmistress of Saint Agatha's College for Women three days ago. Naturally, my first step was to familiarize myself with my new staff. After all, the most important aspect of a successful university is the quality of the educators."

Sara deliberately paused just long enough to give Veronica time to wonder whether or not she was expected to respond, then continued. "Naturally, I expected a top-notch staff, given Saint Agatha's reputation as a first-class facility, and I certainly wasn't disappointed. Every teacher had a magnificent record of qualifications and honors. But yours, Miss Black, stood out above all the rest."

Veronica smiled modestly. "You're too kind, Miss Daniels."

Sara let her mouth curl into a cruel smile. "Oh, I don't think you'll believe that for long," she replied. "You see, your résumé happened to catch my eye almost immediately, due to your degree in medicine from Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford University. I was a Lady Margaret girl myself, and I'm always happy to see a fellow graduate doing well."

Sara had thought that perhaps Veronica would cringe at the implications of her statement, but the other girl remained calm and collected as she continued. "As it turns out, we have even more in common than just the choice of our alma mater. I returned to do post-graduate work at Oxford, and by the sheerest coincidence, it was during the exact period you claim to have studied." She looked sharply at Veronica, but saw no crack in the teacher's composure. "Unfortunately, despite being at the same school for two solid years, I have absolutely no recollection of your presence on campus."

"Our paths must not have crossed," Veronica replied smoothly. "Lady Margaret Hall isn't the largest college at Oxford, I know, but I still can't imagine that you made the personal acquaintance of the entire student body. I was a quiet student. You might simply have failed to notice me."

"No, but they do keep records of such things as attendance and graduation for just such a contingency. I contacted them, and they had no record of you even attending Oxford, much less graduating." She stabbed a finger at the sheet of paper in front of her. "And that's the most believable claim in this entire tissue of lies! I don't know how you managed to hoodwink the previous headmistress, Miss Black, but rest assured I am neither as gullible nor as slipshod in my researches as she was. I am fully aware that even the most cursory check of the claims you make in your curriculum vitae shows you to be nothing more than a liar and a fraud."

Veronica's mask of calm finally slipped then, transforming into a look of contrition so pathetic as to be almost theatrical. "Alright," she said. "I will admit that in my desire to get the position, I may have stretched the truth a bit here and there. But in my three years here, I think I've proven myself time and time again. Ask any of the girls here--they all love me. Ask the other teachers. They'll tell you just what a wonderful job I've been doing."

"I'm afraid that it's a question of character, Miss Black, not simply ability." Sara stood up and began to pace the room, each footstep sounding like the crack of doom. "A CV isn't simply a list of qualifications, it is a solemn oath, made from prospective employee to prospective employer. It is a promise of honesty and integrity, and to find out that you have not kept that promise in one area casts a shadow on your entire tenure here at Saint Agatha's."

Veronica looked honestly shocked at the idea. "But Saint Agatha's means the world to me!" she said. "I love it here--I only lied on my résumé because I couldn't stand the thought of not being able to spend my whole life working with the young women who pass through these halls. There was never any real malice, I swear to that."

"And just what is that oath worth now?" Sara said, standing over Veronica and glaring intently at her. "I cannot trust a woman whose foundation here at Saint Agatha's is a farrago of lies and deception. You will need to come clean with me about everything, Miss Black, if you wish to have even a hope of retaining your position."

"And if I do?" Veronica's confidence seemed to have completely deserted her now.

"Then I shall certainly factor it into my deliberations," Sara replied. More than likely, it would decide the question of whether to simply throw her out, or to have her horsewhipped first, but Sara would decide that after hearing what the other girl had to say.

"Alright," Veronica said. "As you already know, I didn't attend Oxford. I went here, to Saint Agatha's. The days and nights I spent within these walls were some of the happiest of my life, Miss Daniels, but circumstances prevented me from completing my studies here." Sara made a mental note to look up the girl's academic record. No doubt she left under a cloud of some sort.

Veronica reached over and picked up her résumé. As she looked it over, she continued to speak. "Let me see..." she said. "I never did an internship at Charing Cross Hospital in their physical therapy ward. Everything I know about athletics and sports medicine is entirely self-taught." Sara shuddered to think that this woman had been in charge of the university's physical education program for three years with next to no professional training in the prevention or treatment of sports injuries.

"I did not, in fact, win the bronze medal with the Olympic women's curling team in 2006," she continued, her eyes skimming down the page. "I actually don't know how curling is scored, exactly. I know it's kind of like shuffleboard, but I'm not sure what the brooms are for."

She flipped the page. "Where it says that I was published in the Lancet seven times, that should read zero. I do read the magazine, though. Well, not all of it. Just the things that look sort of interesting. Um, I have never won the Boston Marathon, I did not actually win a Nobel Prize for Medicine...oh! I'd forgotten I even wrote that one. No, I wasn't an early member of the Spice Girls. Although I did meet Posh once, she was doing a signing in Manchester..." She noticed Sara's eyes boring into her, and continued quickly. Again, though, Sara got that strange feeling of theatricality, as though the other woman was playing along with a private joke.

"I don't actually have any teaching experience prior to this--the other posts I listed are entirely made up. I don't even think there is a 'Byron University', actually." She blushed. "Sorry, I know I'm saying 'actually' a lot. Um, I didn't do post-graduate work at Oxford, either. Because I didn't graduate ever."

"I didn't do any work with the United Nations World Health Organization, I did not write Billie Piper's hit 'Honey to the Bee', and...ah! Yes, I didn't actually win a BAFTA. I did some summer theater, though, and several people told me I was quite good."

Sara's anger was practically incandescent by now. Turn out the lights, and she half-suspected one could see her glowing in the dark with rage. "I see," she said, spitting the words out furiously. "Is that entirely all?" Sara knew it wasn't; she'd read the ridiculous claims so many times she'd practically memorized them.

"Um, no," Veronica said contritely. "I didn't secretly get the OBE for rescuing Prince William from Iraqi insurgents during the second Gulf War."

"Oh? I never would have guessed." Sara gave the words a contemptuous spin. "So there are no more 'little white lies' on that CV, now? You've come completely clean?"

"Yes, ma'am," Veronica said hopefully.

"So your claim to be in the Guinness Book of World Records for 'World's Fastest Hypnotic Induction'?" Sara replied with scorn in her voice.

"No, that one's entirely true," Veronica said, springing out of her chair. She grabbed Sara's wrist with one hand, and the back of her neck with the other. She pulled Sara's arm down sharply and said, "Sleep."

Sara couldn't quite remember events after that. Everything seemed hazy, but she distantly recalled slumping rapidly forward as her eyes fluttered closed. She remembered sagging into Veronica's arms, the hand on her neck pulling her downwards with an almost irresistible force. The suddenness of the whole sequence of events had taken her completely by surprise, and she found herself in a state of dreamy confusion before she knew it.

Beyond that, her mind grew even more fuzzy. She could recall sinking down even deeper, feeling the thick carpet scratching against her knees as Veronica guided her down to the floor. She remembered the warm, soft feel of resting her head on Veronica's thigh, and the slickness of saliva at the corner of her mouth as she drooled just a little onto the other girl's skin. All of her memories were centered around her sense of touch; somehow, her eyes didn't want to open again once they'd closed.

She remembered some sounds, but not at all clearly. She knew Veronica was talking to her, but she couldn't remember the words. It was all very important and very logical, though, and Sara listened intently even as she forgot what she was listening to. It was more important to feel than to remember.

She also remembered a smell and a taste, but they were too unfamiliar for her to place afterwards. It was a sort of musky perfume, very thick in her nostrils, and a taste that was slick and deliciously salty on her lips. Sara remembered licking away at...at...at something warm and wet to get every bit of the taste she could, but she couldn't recall what it was. It didn't matter, she knew. She was sure to remember the next time she tasted it.

Other than that, it was all a blur for the next few hours. Just a vague impression of moaning and whimpering, and almost indescribable pleasure. Sara definitely remembered the pleasure, at least. Next to that, everything else seemed distant and unimportant, especially tiny and insignificant errors on Veronica's CV. Sara had already decided not to worry about them even before she woke up.

When she did wake up, Veronica had already left. Just as well, Sara decided. The young woman probably had lots to do, and Sara didn't want to get in her way. She'd made her point clear, even if she couldn't quite remember what that point was. It was unfortunate that she'd had to get so angry, but it was nothing personal. She quite liked Veronica. But with some people, you just had to give someone a good tongue-lashing to get them motivated.

THE END