Classmates' Revenge

Chapter One-3

“So our ultimate dream guy decides he’s going to live like a closeted gay or something regardless of how insanely he got off on being beaten and bound and ridden hard all weekend. Apparently I wasn’t compelling enough to make him forsake Miss Goody Two-shoes. Either that or I burned him down and terrified him off. Can you believe that s**t? Some dream guy…”

A rare, pensive silence descended.

“My dream guy wouldn’t mind being marked-up for good,” murmured Julie. “He’d wear my whip-scars with pride, and my brands and any number of indentifying tattoos too. But he could also be allowed to top me when I’m in the mood.”

The others nodded quiet agreement.

“Unfortunately I’ve never met a guy I’ve trusted enough. I mean the way I do you two. I need someone I could keep on a short leash. He’d have to know that when playtime is over, momma is still in charge. And that playtime was over exactly when she said it was!”

These nods were more emphatic. Glasses were drained and banged down. At their word the waiter brought a pitcher; the evening proper was underway and the place filling up.

So was the street laid out at their feet. Pedestrians lingered and mingled with arriving and departing patrons. Neighboring establishments absorbed and disgorged strangers and acquaintances; some waved or even hailed the three ladies.

One of those that raised a silent glass in salute from the patio of the tavern opposite was their former history professor. If it hadn’t been for that story, if they hadn’t just been bemoaning their dearth of suitable male company – or if the fellow in question hadn’t been such a deserving flirt – the idea never would have occurred to Tara. As it happened, at her word the most exciting, perverse and consequential summer imaginable was about to begin.

***

“Well, well. Look who it is, sisters. Smile and wave.”

Tara was smiling and waving herself. Her voice however had taken on a devilish lilt that Carrie knew all too well. Even as she smiled her own seductive best she was protesting.

“You can’t be seriously considering…”

“Why the f**k not? He’s way hot. And very naughty too. Name a guy in this snore-fest that needs a comeuppance more.”

Ed Marsh was a notorious skirt-chaser. A regular fixture of the town’s nightlife, he had a long string of conquests tied to his name – including not a few of his fellow teachers and former students. Even more unprofessional was his behavior toward his more attractive current charges: busy eyes, flirtatious comments, preferential grading, after-class assistance, caressing of the arms and shoulders… all of this amounting to hundreds of serial and parallel emotional affairs. Although he’d never been caught in any physical act with a minor, persistent rumor of such indiscretions had dogged him for a decade.

Of course all three of them had enjoyed his attention and benefitted from his favor. As the most desirable girl in school, Carrie had finally decided that if Mr. Marsh hadn’t tried to bed her, he probably knew better than to actually take his pants off with a pupil. Still that just made him guilty of being an intolerable tease!

“I’d have given it up to him.” Carrie heard herself saying aloud. “With glee. I was disappointed he never tried. How about you guys?”

“f**k yeah!”

“Likewise.” Julie was peeking at him speculatively. She squirmed on her sore rump. “What exactly did you guys have in mind?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tara in turn was almost bouncing on her seat. “We teach the teacher an overdue lesson. We seduce him, get the goods on him and make him over into our secret communal f**k-slave.

“I want to see him cleaning the mansion wearing high heels and women’s underwear. I want to see his own underwear taped into his mouth while we take turns beating and riding him. I want to rub his degradation in his face until he learns to love it. Then...”

“Maybe after he’s properly cowed and collared we let him in on the coin flip.” Julie finished. “You think those other rumors are true?”

“What, about him having a giant d**k?” Tara snickered. “Who knows? Schoolyard invention or truthful gossip, there’s one sure way to find out.”

“I’m on board!” Julie was peeking again. “But I’m just a freeloader here. Unless he’s some kind of chubby-chaser, Carrie’s got the estate and all the assets.”

“You’re not chubby,” Carrie sighed. “I’d f**k you in a hot second. For that matter, what makes you so sure this guy will succumb to me? He didn’t back at old Grantland Academy.”

“You were jailbait then. Your family would have crucified him. Look at you now.”

“Yeah but you’ve got the history degree.”

“Art history.”

“It’s still a good conversation starter, Miss Body by Botticelli.”

“Are you telling me you can’t find an opening line with a guy? Maybe we should send motor-mouth instead. It was her idea.”

“Oh no, you guys have got the goods. I’ll do it if you’re too chickenshit. But you were always his favorite Carrie. And Julie’s right: it’s your house where we’re going to be staying and playing all summer.”

“All right,” Carrie gave in. “I’ll try him first. If I fail, we’ll give it a few nights and let Julie try. Then you, Tara. What are our tactics here?”

“Simple.” Motor-mouth had it all figured out. “I’ll take Julie back to the estate on my bike. We’ll start the cameras in the bedroom and make ourselves irresistible. Meanwhile you pick up Mister Teenager-teaser and bring him home in Julie’s Stingray. The minute you get him in bed, the rest of us will fall on him.

“We have a very imaginative orgy which results in some extremely compromising video. We make sure something gets recorded that might cost a man his position at an elite private high school should it turn up on the internet. Thereafter if our charms ever fail to suffice to keep our new b***h compliant, we resort to some good old-fashioned blackmail. We play this titillating new game until we tire of it – if that ever happens. Either way we send this miscreant back to class in the fall a very chastened exploiter of adolescent woman!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Julie raised her glass and they all did.

“It’s still not nine o’clock.” Carrie observed.

“You want to wait for him to get drunker?” Tara sounded skeptical.

“I’ll play it by eye,” she decided. “Let’s kill this pitcher and make our move.”

They gulped their drinks. Carrie felt hers hit her, though as the dregs of the pitcher it was half melted ice. That was all right. She had a good buzz building, but nothing she couldn’t handle. And appearing drunker than she was could come in handy. She paid the tab, warming to the adventure ahead. As they left the terrace, nodding and waving as socially appropriate, Carrie glanced across at The Pines where her target was still doing his own socializing.

Ed Marsh hadn’t missed their movement. Their eyes locked again; he saluted with his drink again. They exchanged smiles that suggested this was a fait accompli. Carrie began to chivvy her friends along. Nevertheless it took them long minutes to reach the car; the evening was still picking up steam. At last Julie was handing over the keys.

“Don’t wreck it yet please.”

“Don’t worry. It’s all in the plan.”

“Good.” Julie grimaced as she settled her butt on the bike. Hiking her dress up exposed the welts on one thigh. “Don’t fail, dear. Make the torture I’m about to endure worth it.”

“I’ll get him. You guys hurry home and set things up.”

“See you soon.”

Once they were gone Carrie drove the Stingray out the back of the lot. Circling around a couple blocks, she pulled in behind The Pines much as they’d parked at Reilly’s. Checking her reflection in the mirror, she quickly re-glistened her lipstick before leaving the car.

Adding a bit of unsteadiness to her gait Carrie headed for the building. All night Marsh had been on the patio out front; she intended to enter by the rear and try to mingle her way unobtrusively into range.

This door was actually an exit-only, the terminus of an interior corridor that led to the restrooms. Patrons often slipped inside this way as others were leaving though and Carrie doubted she’d have to wait long. Sure enough as she approached the door it opened. A couple in their early forties emerged, saw her coming and obligingly held it for her.

Lucky me, thought Carrie. Yet that wasn’t the half of it. As soon as she stepped inside she hit the jackpot. Coming out of the men’s room just in front of her was none other than her former history professor. His face lit up at seeing her and the rest was effortless.