Classmates' Revenge

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Judgment

Ed couldn’t credit such astonishing serendipity. The girl he’d just been mooning over had manifested herself like magic.

Seeing Carrie Mitchell back in town (the whole clique in fact) had obviously overjoyed him. All three were immensely wealthy and desirable – and now indisputably mature. Without quite admitting to himself that he’d groomed these girls (as he had so many others), Ed had eyed them from across the street with the satisfied smirk of a man whose canniest investments might be ripening. Every time he glanced at them, visions of scandalous dalliance competed with the anticipated taste of luxuries his salary couldn’t support.

Damn: they finished dinner and departed. Disappointed, Ed migrated his way inside. Slowed by salutations he forged across the growing-crowded tavern and finally made it to the hallway with the can. All the way their waves stayed with him.

The old glimmer was still there, particularly with Carrie. Ed had caught Julie peeking at him too. But it was the glamorous town princess who’d most bedazzled with her smile. As he shook off the water moccasin, zipped up and washed his hands Ed consoled himself with the hope that they’d be back another night, either together or alone when he might better cut one out of the bunch. The summer was young after all, if he no longer really was.

Thirty-four wasn’t eternity territory by any means. But The Pines catered to middle-agers, and there was no denying he fit right in. Ed wondered suddenly how long he’d be able to get away with his modus operandi. There was something pathetic about increasingly elderly educators abusing their influence to plow through an ever younger crop of infatuates.

Never unduly upset about his reputation, Ed just didn’t think he could live with such a conception of himself. Right now all he did was play the field (if perhaps massaging the lineup a little). That premonitory glimpse suggested cradle-robbing. Despite his nurturing of future potential, Ed abominated pedophiles and other such predators – cultists for example. One couldn’t be a teacher and want to corrupt the young. That was like being a homicidal doctor. Of course history had produced plenty of both sorts…

Shouldering out of the head, caught up in such unwelcome reflection, Ed wanted nothing but a fresh drink and some fellowship to dispel it. What he got instead was the ultimate payoff he’d been unconsciously contemplating. Seeing Carrie Mitchell materialize like an emissary sent from heaven blew blue ruminations right away. Without thinking his glib tongue took over.

“Carrie! What happened to your friends?”

“We had a disagreement and they ditched me.”

She reached a steadying hand to the wall. Instead she found a payphone that no one had used in ages. She almost knocked it off the hook. “Something about drinking and driving.”

Ed was an experienced operator. This was a gifted amateur. Hiding his eagerness he played into the ploy.

“Maybe they had a point. We can’t risk the prettiest – not to mention richest – kid in town. I know your papa wouldn’t approve. Why don’t we call up to the estate and have someone come and get you?”

“My folks are out of town.”

Devious Ed had heard this.

“I sent everyone away but the guard at the gate.”

This he had not. Their liquid depths eloquent with unspoken offers, despairing Carrie’s huge dark eyes implored him over a perfectly uncertain moue. “I…I don’t suppose…you couldn’t… would you please drive me up there? The car’s right here, a brand new ‘vette and everything…”

Anxiously she trailed off, biting one of those plump, incomparably kissable lips.

Awake or dreaming, this was way too easy. Ed couldn’t finish pinching himself.

“For a damsel in distress, I could accomplish legendary heroics.”

The snake that turned to stone was already stirring.

“A ten-minute drive isn’t a challenge at all.”

Ed cast a glance around a happily empty hall. That couldn’t last; a toilet flushed though the wall. He took the girl’s arm like a proper gentleman and shepherded her back out into the deepening evening. She in turn wobbled them toward a gorgeous black convertible, pressing the keys into his palm. Pointy toes and stiletto heels had her teetering. Gallantly Ed opened her door and lowered her into the deep bucket seat. He climbed into what felt like the pilot’s side. This was a sweet machine indeed, seriously luxurious. As soon as he inserted the key Carrie touched the button to close the top. Neither commented on their common wish for discretion. It wasn’t until they’d escaped Main that Carrie said anything.

“Thank you very much for seeing me safe, Professor Marsh.”

Her voice had the breathiest touch of overawed teenager to it. Mocking or seductive in intent, Ed found this unsettlingly both. He covered suavely enough.

“You can call me Ed, Miss Mitchell. We’re both college graduates now I guess – congratulations by the way. And this is no difficulty at all. Like I said…”

“A ten minute drive is not a challenge.”

“That’s right.”

A two-beat of silence ensued. Then like a teenager again she twisted in her seat, pulling up her legs and turning to confront him. “You like a challenge.”

The velvet tone was one itself. A subtle insinuation was being repeated. Ed squirmed unexpectedly. “Only cowards don’t.”

“Bravely said, heroic Ed. See, I’m tempted to make you pay for all your naughtiness.”

Another impossibly pregnant pause passed. This wasn’t the patter he was prepared for. It evoked his foreboding in the shithouse. Still Ed sounded steady to himself.

“I’m afraid I don’t get you.”

Twelve years his junior or not, Carrie saw through him like air.

“You incorrigible tease! You came on to me all through my junior and senior year – my friends too. Don’t try to deny it. But you never carried through. Not even a surreptitious kiss. Why wouldn’t you ever sleep with me, or with Julie or any of our classmates?”

That at least Ed could answer.

“To begin with it would have been immoral and unethical, not to mention unprofessional and illegal. Some may consider such things situational. And certainly some adolescent girls are more than just physically mature. In some cultures they’re married with babies already. But this is modern America, where honorable men don’t take advantage of impulsive kids – or drunks.”

“You’re a rare one then Ed. I guess I have to believe you.” Carrie giggled guiltily. “And now I’m left to make my own confession. I’m sorry, professor. I’m really not that drunk.”

“I suspected not.” Another weighty wait tested Ed’s tingling.

“I’m not a kid anymore either.”

“Praise Jesus, Allah and Zeus for that too.”

This time they giggled together, giddy with relief.

“This damsel in distress display was actually an invitation.”

“It’s been recognized and accepted.”

“Not to mention long anticipated.”

“Well, yeah.”

“You’re a manipulative pig. Have you ever seen my dad’s place?”

“Just the fence outside.”

“He had it built in the eighties. It’s pretty amazing.”

“Where’s Frank now?”

“Boston. My brother and his wife just had twins. First grandkids and all.”

“How is Trevor?”

“Happily spinning his hamster wheel.”

“Freeing you for otiosity.”

“All hail Ra, Baal and Moloch for that as well.”

They laughed in companionable warmth. Ed went on cautiously exploring.

“So the place is yours for the summer?”

“Care for a tour? The bed was crafted for Russian royalty in the seventeen-tens.”

“Are you kidding? That sounds fantastic.”

“It’s a spectacular setting truly, fitting for the most divine kind of performance art. I’ll be happy to demonstrate for you. I’ve been getting bored back here already. Downtown Locklin isn’t exactly Manhattan, dear man.”

“Maybe not. But to a fellow who makes under six figures, this place truly looks like heaven on Earth.” Ed was pulling in to the gate, which opened to admit them. Spacious grounds spread out beyond. Everything was meticulously maintained. Meanwhile Carrie sounded affronted.

“That’s what you get for so diligently molding America’s youth? Even at an elite quote-unquote academy? Perhaps we’ll have to make that up to you too, professor. Here, pull right up to the portico. We’re entering through the front door. Just leave the key in its slot.”

Ed did as directed, savoring double entendres. Shortly he was indeed being amazed beyond his expectations.

Old Frank Mitchell certainly had a taste for ostentation and the loot to indulge it. Antique furniture, Persian rugs, Roman statuary, everything without a flaw and dramatically spotlighted in the forbidding dimness: this place was more like a museum than a home. It was actually quite intimidating – especially considering the local legend that Frank had made his stones and bones in the booming eighties’ cocaine trade before prudently divesting.

Whether this was racist innuendo born of the fact that he and his son had both taken Colombian wives or was actually substantiated, it added to the dark glamour of accompanying this exotic young heiress through such eye-popping opulence. It evoked Tony Montana’s place in Scarface. By the time they reached the ridiculous master suite Ed was torn between vague unease and the temptation to try to move in for the summer – if not marry the debutant outright. After all, he’d never see wealth like this again. And he couldn’t play even a crooked field forever…

Carrie led the way straight toward the enormous antique bed of which she’d spoken. Easily over twelve feet square, the headboard itself was a masterpiece. While its top and sides were intricately inlaid like the rest of the structure, the deep inset was carved into a crowded relief of figures: angels, devils, cherubim, satyrs, animals and more obscure forms from myth and lore, most of them associated with sleep, night or fornication in some fashion.

While Ed was studying (or gawping at) this, Carrie moved to a rolling drinks table. Brandy was decanted into crystal snifters. She handed him one; the ambrosial distillate evanesced on his tongue. The mistress of the manor stepped closer, more alluring than any of a hundred conquests previous. Her voice had a sultry throb to it; all the breathy naiveté had gone away.

“This is my most private place, Edwin Marsh, my sanctum sanctorum. My rule is gracious but absolute here. Is that acceptable to you?”

What kind of clod could quibble? Only an imbecile as far as Ed was concerned. Having been admitted to Olympus, was he going to retreat to his hovel because couldn’t usurp the scepter? Or was he going to let the most desirable female he’d ever met have her way in her own bedroom, the heart of the staggeringly paradisiacal palace she’d just so hospitably opened to him?

“My dear young lady, I would never gainsay a host – to say nothing of a goddess in her bower. I am your most admiring subject here.”

Carrie smiled at him again.

This one was filled with such wicked s****l intent that Ed shivered, and not entirely pleasantly. He took another slug of brandy three times his age. As he was swallowing this, his old charge plucked the still quarter-full crystal away. An evil glee cavorted in her gaze.

“In that case my former authority figure, I would like you to take your clothing off. Show me what you wouldn’t five years ago – though you spent enough time looking down my top and up my skirt didn’t you, disgraceful man? You didn’t even try to hide it.”

“I confess.” Ed began unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you, five-eleven, two hundred?”

“Only after Thanksgiving dinner.”

Carrie laughed appreciatively again.

“Good one. Brown hair and eyes, no chin or lip scruff. What a sexy chest! I love hairless men. Any scars or tattoos?”

“Nothing yet,” Ed allowed, wondering if this was foreplay or a police lineup. He tossed his shirt on the bed. Opening his pants exposed the erection leaping free of his briefs. His sigh of relief was drowned out in a sudden shriek.

“YES! Talk about a distinguishing feature! The rumors were true. I guess too many teachers and assistants and older sisters were punished by that thing to keep their mouths shut about it.”

Ed grinned and shrugged, working the rest of his clothes off. By the time he was nude Carrie had demolished both drinks and returned their glasses to the tray.

Making him wait, she removed her heavy amber pendant earrings. Still wearing a thousand-dollar dress, overtopping him now in those stiletto heels, she closed to within intimate distance. Awaiting kisses and an embrace, Ed was abruptly shoved instead. Like a crouching kid in the schoolyard, the bed hit him in the back of the legs.

“Woof!”

His breath was expelled in surprise as he toppled over backward. Unacquainted with aggression in women, Ed’s head spun in sudden exhilaration. His prick waggled wildly; kinesis encouraged its already urgent engorgement. Abruptly this exclamation point was grabbed and jacked. By the time Ed caught his breath, rose to his elbows and blinked himself lucid his hostess was mostly naked too. With her dress now bunched about her belly she had him in a firm fist-grip. She was meat-beating him so maniacally those stupendous breasts jiggled like coconuts in a cyclone. Within a minute he was panting and struggling woefully to withhold. Fortunately Carrie still seemed prescient. At the penultimate moment she slowed her strokes.