Bernice was picked up after school by Susan, her so called aunt. Susan was Paul's niece and only eighteen, but made up to look like an older woman. She had done a good job on the disguise. The sophisticated make-up, nails, hair, and clothes, let Susan get away with the charade.
Bernice on the other hand, was pretending to be an eighteen year old. It was embarrassing for a mature, married woman having to act like an adolescent, and especially so, with this young girl bossing her around.
"What are you giggling at, girl?" Susan asked.
Bernice wanted to retaliate and put the annoying girl in her place. She had been congratulating herself on surviving her first day in a new school. It was a stupid thought, as she was no high school student, and had burst out laughing over the silly idea.
After only one day at school Bernice had sunk into the role fairly well. She had a run-in with a prefect and a teacher, and survived both humiliating situations. At least the afternoon had been quiet in class. Having someone to share thoughts and anxieties with was vital when growing up, so she would have to start mixing with fellow students.
She almost laughed out loud again. She had to remind herself, that she was a mature woman, and had left behind those awful feelings of self-doubt and anxiety years ago.
This had been the first day, and it would be the last.
She silently got into the sedan, with a typical tortured adolescent look on her face. She sat with arms folded, scowling.
"You can drop me off here!" Bernice announced. It was across town to her home, but she would walk it if she had to.
"No! Paul left strict instructions that I should take you home, and not let you out of my sight," Susan stated.
Bernice glowered, looking defiant and put upon.
Susan glanced at her while they drove home. The woman was acting weird. This morning Paul pretended he thought the woman was a kid, and they had all gone along with it. The pretence was strained, and not very convincing. Bernice seemed guilty and afraid, rather than young. Now she was behaving like a spoilt brat, when not getting her own way.
They pulled into the garage with the large automatic door shutting behind them. Bernice felt trapped, and with little choice traipsed into the kitchen behind Susan.
"Where's your uniform?" Susan asked, only just then realising the woman was wearing something different.
"I, err. . . I spilt paint on it. One of the teachers gave me this," Bernice lied.
There was no way she could possibly explain what happened. It would be too humiliating. Recalling the incident with the girls and Miss Perez, left her feeling small and vulnerable.
"That school uniform was expensive. I don't know what your, what Paul will say," Susan admonished her.
She just refrained from saying, 'what your father will say'. It was a familiar refrain her mother used. She was still unsure what her uncle and this woman were playing at. She was being well paid so what did it matter.
"Please don't tell him. Like, really it wasn't my fault," Bernice squirmed. She didn't want Paul to spank her again, so would have to gain this girls help.
Susan enjoyed this new power held over a woman. She stared Bernice down, revelling in seeing her submit. Looking her over afresh, Susan could see how different she looked from this morning. The adolescent pretence was far more convincing, from the way she behaved and spoke.
"I might make up some excuse for you. Do you promise to be a good girl?" Susan demanded to know. She imitated the heavy tone of voice her mother used when she was younger.
"Yes," Bernice conceded.
"Tell me then, so I know you mean it," Susan insisted.
"Like, Yea! I promise to be a good girl. Thank you Susan," Bernice demurely replied.
Bernice felt ensnared in the role, with yet more lies increasing its tight grip. If only she could tell them the truth and get out of this mess. The longer it went on the more difficult it was to escape. It was like a spiders web of lies being wound tight about her.
"You had better get on with your homework. Stay right there! Don't go to your room. I don't trust you not to get stuck into girly magazines. Get on with it then," Susan encouraged.
Bernice reluctantly flipped open a text book and note book. After a short while she became engrossed in the social studies assignment. It all seemed so much easier than before. This time she wasn't fervently looking forward to the end of school. This was it. The last school work ever. Before she realised it, the assignment was completed.
She sat at the kitchen table with a sense of satisfaction. She began to think back over the years of high school. Being bored in class, bullied out of class, her breasts developing late, boys, hating lessons, and the teachers.
While they waited for Paul to return, Susan fixed dinner. It left her feeling all the more like her own mother. Bernice was just sitting there, no longer glowering from being grounded, just staring into space.
"At least you could set the table," Susan said, with obvious exasperation.
"Alright, like really, there's no need to nag!" Bernice grumpily complained.
She could feel the response was wrong, yet couldn't help it. All weekend she had desperately tried to convince Paul she was a teenager. Being in school had demanded she behave like a schoolgirl, and she had. Reliving those awkward years of high school all over again was getting to her.
She had to get away before Paul got home. If he discovered who she was it would be dire. He knew about those boys she had been messing around with. Now he could tell her husband she had been at school all day.
"Hi Paul, had a good day?" Susan automatically asked. 'Shit! I'm turning into my mother, years ahead of time,' Susan thought.
Bernice tried to look unobtrusive, as though she could blend into the background, so as not to be noticed.
"That smells good! Have you been a good girl at school?" Paul asked.
Bernice had stopped cringing over being asked if she were a good girl. She accepted the demeaning question, yet couldn't accept that she was. Each time it was said, it reminded her of what happened Friday evening. She was a very bad girl. She felt like telling him she hadn't let anyone fuck her today.
"Yes, Sir," Bernice demurely answered.
"Sit down and we can eat together," he said.
While she washed up, Paul commented on the skirt and top.
"I gave it to her. They don't wear a uniform at that school," Susan lied for her.
"Alright, you can wear it tomorrow," Paul said.
He had a successful day while Bernice was absent from her office. The team in her department co-operated, without the boss looking over their shoulders. It would take awhile to gather enough information to make a proposal to the CEO, so he needed to keep her out of the department for a few more days.
Hell! Not another day of school, not that. Miss Perez was after her, and she would have to face those nasty girls. She had got herself into this mess and would have to talk her way out of it.
He was sending her to school because she said she quit, to work in that burger bar. He had watched her being fucked by that nasty boy, so she had to pretend to be someone else. At the time she had been pleased not to be recognised by him. Another mistake was telling him her parents were away. He ended up taking her to his home, to look after and make sure she behaved herself.
Damn! She had brought it all upon herself.
She neatly folded the school clothes on a chair, and wrapped a dressing gown around her naked body. She would have to do something. Where the hell was her husband? He hadn't answered the phone all weekend. The messages he left about being away meant Paul kept her here, until her parents returned home.
She padded on bare feet to the lounge, where Paul was working on a report.
"Can I phone home, sir?" she asked.
"Sure. If your parents are back, I'll take you home. If you promise me you'll be a good girl, I won't mention what happened," he smiled reassuringly at her.
A ray of sunshine lightened her feelings. She felt so excited at the prospect of escaping the nightmare, she danced on the spot.
"Oh! Like, thank you, Sir! I promise to be a good little girl, and do as I'm told. I'll keep away from the naughty boys, and study hard. I promise, honest!" Bernice gleefully gushed.
She was so excited it felt as though all her birthdays had come at once. A heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. The guilt over what she had done would return, and she had to work out what to do about Paul being in her office. All that had been forgotten. She was being let off school, and would be returned to the safety of her home. The humiliating charade was over!
Watching her skip off to his workroom, he wondered what lie she would come up with. The gossip in the office was that her husband was having an affair with a woman he worked with. Perhaps that is why she had been trying so hard to rekindle their marriage with silly games. She must have sensed something was going on.
It was while playing one of those games with her husband that got her into this mess. It was convenient for him to pretend he didn't recognise her, to keep her out of the way. He was finding it amusing keeping her like this, and pushing her to the limit.
Joan, the office gossip, figured the husband had finally left, and Bernice was recovering alone at home. It took a little digging to check their guess had been partially correct. In the end it had been so simple to find out what was going on. The husband had left her, to move in with the other woman.
Bernice listened to the answer phone message. It was short but certainly not sweet. Angus sounded uncertain, then firmed up his voice. He was leaving and not coming back! She was numb, not hearing the rest. She dialled again to listen once more to the message. Her husband wasn't coming back!
Bernice stumbled into the lounge, not seeing anyone or anything. The horrible news was unforeseen and shocking. She had tried so hard. Now she knew why he was paying her so little attention.
"Are they back home yet?" Paul asked, feigning ignorance.
Bernice shook her head. Tears ran from her eyes in silent splashes onto the carpet.
"Come here," Paul told her.
