Probably something about being this year’s Homecoming Queen, she mused.
"So it would appear." The secretary picked up the phone, pushed a button and spoke into it.
"A Stacy Richards here to see you, sir." There were a few moments of silence and then she nodded briskly.
"Go right in; he’s expecting you."
Stacy entered the principal’s large office. It was set in the back of the school building, giving it a good view of the playing fields and then the forest stretching out behind Greenwood. The principal, Dr. Randall Grossman, sat behind a large oak desk. He had short, jet black hair which had recently begun the long retreat up his forehead. His large, dark eyes peered out from behind his bifocals. Despite this seemingly mild appearance, the principal had a strong physical presence about him. He had experienced little or no trouble in intimidating the students (and staff, for that matter) into compliance with his policies. As a result of his abilities, Greenwood regularly had one of the highest academic records in the state.
The students, of course, hated and feared him, and Stacy was no exception. Grossman did not hesitate to expel a student when he saw the need and had even, on one memorable and well- publicized occasion, been instrumental in the criminal conviction of a student who had been caught with a stolen exam paper. Stacy, perhaps better than anyone, remembered this.
"Miss Richards." His voice was high; surprisingly effeminate. "Please… have a seat."
Stacy sat as the school principal opened a white folder and removed a sheet of paper from it. He glanced at the form and then looked up at her.
"Stacy," he began, "your marks this year have been the best we’ve ever seen from a student at Greenwood. I’ve personally never come across such a consistently brilliant student."
"Thank you," Stacy said, breathing a small sigh of relief. She hadn’t been expecting trouble, but you never knew.
"That’s why I was so surprised at your History test," the principal continued.
"What?"
"History 12," he explained, handing the piece of paper over to her. It was the cover sheet of her exam paper in the History class; the one Gary had given her the wrong paper for. It had a "49" marked on top of it in bright red pen.
Forty-nine!
Stacy felt like she was going to throw up. That was a failing grade. Her hand trembled as she held the sheet. After everything that had happened to her this year; and now…
"Summer school," Dr. Grossman said, as if reading her mind. "If you fail a course, you have to make it up over the summer." He stared at her as she turned pale. "You know that, don’t you?"
White as a sheet, Stacy nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Summer school!!!
A tiny smile played across Dr. Grossman’s mild face as he noted the girl’s reactions. They were perfect; and so was she. A real find. Ever since Mr. Edgar’s tearful confession the previous week, Grossman had been looking forward to this moment. He had always fantasized about something like this - getting control of one of the beautiful young sluts in his school and imposing his "tastes" on one of them - but he had never dared try it before now. There was too much at risk: his job, his career, his reputation; and there was always The Club whenever he felt the need to indulge himself.
The Club! What wonderful things they could think of to do with this teenage slut; what wonderful things they WOULD do to her… if his plan worked.
And it should. It should work. If Edgar’s description of events was at all accurate, there was every reason to believe that his plan would unfold exactly as he hoped. First, however, he wanted to test the water. See how she reacted…
Stacy thought quickly. She couldn’t go to summer school. She just couldn’t! Taking a deep breath, the teenager regained control of herself and looked over at the principal. He sat staring at her appraisingly. Maybe. It worked with Edgar; why not with…
"Young lady," he said sternly, breaking the silence, "is there anything you wish to say or… do to convince me to exercise my discretionary powers in favour of giving you a passing grade."
He stared at her from behind his bifocals.
"I can do that, you know."
Stacy wasn’t stupid. She knew what he was talking about.
"S-sir," she stammered, flushing red. "I’ll do whatever I have to do to pass; whatever you w-want." The blonde teenager fought down the bile which rose in her lovely throat. She was supposed to be finished with this bullshit.
Dr. Grossman raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"
"Yes sir," she answered quietly.
They understood each other.
Moving suddenly, the school principal leaned forward in his chair and punched a button on his intercom.
"Ms. Peabody," he ordered. "Hold all my calls and visitors for the next two hours. And call Gardner to the office. He can wait out there." The secretary acknowledged the orders.
Dr. Grossman sat back in his chair and stared over at the trembling teenager. She looked so delicious, sitting there in her tight jeans and pink top, her beautiful blonde hair done up in a long braid.
"OK Stacy," he said. "Here’s the deal." He got to his feet and walked slowly across the room towards her.
"Stand up against the desk."
She did as ordered. The large oak desk came up to just below her crotch.
"Now, bend over and grab these drawer handles."
Once again, Stacy did as ordered. She was now bent over the desktop, stretched out with her hands just reaching the two drawer handles.
"Now," the principal continued, running his gaze appreciatively up and down her body "if you can hold that position for the next two hours, you pass. But if, for any reason, you let go of those handles… well, we’ll be seeing you at summer school. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir," Stacy answered quietly. Her fingers curled tightly around the small metal handles as she prepared herself for the worst. A tear trickled down one cheek and fell onto the desktop. She had a pretty good idea of what would soon be happening…
Harold Gardner was a big man. He was also a black man. He worked as a janitor and general handyman at Greenwood High, a position he had held ever since he had been personally hired by the school principal, Dr. Grossman. He and Grossman went back a long ways. They had similar tastes in certain… activities, and both enjoyed membership in an exclusive Club. When Gardner had lost his job at City Hall because of his criminal record, Grossman had been happy to take him in and provide him with employment. No blackmail or anything like that; just one friend doing another friend a favour.
Gardner looked over at Ms. Peabody and smiled. The secretary looked over and acknowledged his smile. She too was a personal appointee of Dr. Grossman and, like Gardner, she was a member of the Club. Grossman had discussed his plans for Stacy with her a couple of days earlier and, although she was somewhat concerned about the risks, she had agreed to go along with it. If it worked…
A rhythmic slapping sound came from the principal’s office. It had been going on for about twenty minutes now, and showed no sign of abating. Gardner and Peabody looked at each other and smirked; they had a pretty good idea of what was happening in there.
Five minutes later, the sound stopped. The door to the principal’s office opened and Grossman looked out. His face was flushed red, and damp with sweat.
"Ah, Mr. Gardner," he said. "I wonder if you could help me with a little matter in here."
"Ah’m sure ah can," Gardner answered, getting to his feet.
"Is there anything I can do," Peabody asked hopefully.
Grossman shook his head.
"I’m afraid I need you out here," he answered. "You have to hold my calls and keep people out of the office for the next little while. Later though…"