© 2023 by Lorenzo Marks. All rights reserved. Not for sale.
Reproduction in any form is prohibited.
All of the characters in this story are over the age of eighteen.
Chapter One
For the first time in the three years that she had been teaching at Winston-Radcliffe High, Mrs. Caroline Lambert found herself physically incapable of opening the door to her home classroom. She still couldn't believe the absurd situation she had managed to get herself into, although given the added risks she had been running recently, it was hardly surprising that she had finally been found out.
Lord knew, she had tried to find a remedy--medication, psychiatry, hypnotherapy, even acupuncture--but nothing had worked. For most of her life, she had been a slave to this horrible compulsive disorder, and it had only been by the grace of God that she had managed to avoid exposure all this time--until now.
She was still unsure of how that hateful little man, Mike Kettle the gym teacher, had managed to catch her stealing from the teachers' locker room on film, but the email he had sent her was as damning as it was terrifying. Her initial reaction had been to sit it out and deny any wrongdoing, but closer inspection of the images clearly showed the items in question being removed from a fellow teacher's locker. Stupid, insignificant things that Caroline had absolutely no need for--cosmetics, a book, a fold-up umbrella, pocket change. It had been Caroline's second excursion into the staff locker room--she had previously kept her compulsion outside of the workplace--and although there had been no formal complaints, her first victim must have mentioned something, which might explain why Kettle had put the hidden camera there.
What had unsettled her as much as the shocking and unexpected email, was his puzzling and troubling proposal. He had suggested a face to face meeting if she wanted to keep her crime a secret--unfortunately that was a no-brainer given her high station in the local community--and when they had met up at an out-of-town cafe, he had been quite blunt in presenting his plan. After allowing Caroline to squirm and plead for a few minutes, he had agreed that their little secret would remain just between them, with one caveat--she was to report to her homeroom every Saturday afternoon for detention.
Detention? Caroline couldn't believe her ears! She was a senior teacher, for heaven's sake!
And Kettle hadn't even given her time to think about it! A simple yes or no on the spot, and if her answer was the latter, then the photographs would be sent to her husband--who just happened to be the school principal! The resulting scandal would have been unthinkable! Caroline was a highly respected member of the community. She organized several church fundraising events each year, she was a committee member of the local women's society and had even been the recipient of an award from City Hall for her charity work for the homeless. Not to mention the fact that her husband's social circle included judges, priests, wealthy captains of industry, and local politicians. No, for Mrs. Caroline Lambert, mother, educator, and all round pillar of society, to be shamed publicly as a common thief was simply not an option!
So as much as it galled her to have to give in to the common little man's demands, here she was on a quiet Saturday afternoon in the deserted school, reporting for detention, as Mike Kettle had disconcertingly put it.
She wasn't sure if she was supposed to knock--the idea struck her as ridiculous--so instead, she placed her ear against the door. She couldn't hear anything, and peering through the frosted glass panel, it was impossible to tell if anybody was inside. For a moment, her heart rate slowed at the possibility that he had just been toying with her. She checked her expensive Bulgari wristwatch--an anniversary present--and saw that it was three minutes past the arranged meeting time.
It was possible of course, that Kettle was sitting quietly inside, and mindful of the catastrophic fallout should he follow through with his threat, Caroline took a deep breath and turned the door handle. Cautiously putting her head around the half-open door, she scanned the empty classroom. Her desk on the far right in front of the blackboard and national flag was empty, as were the rows of desks facing it.
With a sigh of relief, Caroline was just about to close the door and leave, when Kettle popped out from behind the door. "Hi, there! I'm glad you finally worked up the courage to come in!"
"Oh!" Caroline started, putting a hand up to her chest.
"Did I surprise you?" Kettle grinned. "Well, you'd better get used to that.
Come on inside and lock the door behind you."
For safety reasons, the classroom door could not be locked from the outside, but there was a deadbolt on the inside. As she turned it, Caroline felt a knot of foreboding in her stomach. Following him over toward her desk, she also noticed that the blinds had been pulled down on all the windows. What could he possibly have in mind that would require such privacy?
In fact, that question had been tumbling around in her mind ever since her unwanted meeting with Kettle. He had told her she would have to serve a series of Saturday detentions until he was satisfied that she was sufficiently punished--but he hadn't gone into any details. Caroline had supervised countless detentions during her career, and for the most part they had involved extra study sessions, or long boring hours of just sitting. Was that what he had planned for her? Somehow she didn't think so.
Kettle had already seated himself behind her desk, and Caroline found herself in the unaccustomed and somewhat belittling position of having to stand before him rather like a naughty schoolgirl. The only other option would be to sit at one of the students' desks, but that would present an even more deferential picture, so she stayed where she was while the despicable little man studied her with an impudent grin on his face.
He seemed to be enjoying the moment, allowing his eyes to rove up and down her body, and she shifted uncomfortably. Totally in the dark as to what she might have to expect, Caroline had dressed in her usual summer outdoor style--a light floral dress pulled in at the waist with a matching belt, light brown tights, sensible flat shoes, and her customary string of pearls around her neck.
She could only guess as to why Kettle was examining her so intently, but to break the tension, she said, "So what exactly do you want from me?"
"Hmm," Kettle grinned, tapping his chin. "What indeed? What could you possibly have that I want, huh?"
His cryptic response was as irritating as it was worrying, and Caroline snapped, "Look, I've come all the way out here as you asked, so you could at least have the decency to let me know why I am here!"
Her haughty approach didn't seem to bother him and instead of answering her question, he said, "How old are you, Caroline?"
Bridling at this unexpected over-familiarity, Caroline said, "What has that to do with anything?"
"Well, it's just that I've always imagined that you are hiding a rather curvaceous--if a little generous--figure under those frumpy frocks you like to wear."
