"And you are Stacy Richards?"

The older woman stared suspiciously at the teenager, as if suspecting her ofbeing an imposter.

Yeah, Stacy thought to herself sarcastically, like I really want to behere.

"Yes," she answered politely. "Dr. Grossman wants to see me?"

Probably something about being this year’s Homecoming Queen, she mused.

"So it would appear." The secretary picked up the phone, pushed a button andspoke into it.

"A Stacy Richards here to see you, sir." There were a few moments of silenceand 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 theschool building, giving it a good view of the playing fields and then theforest stretching out behind Greenwood. The principal, Dr. Randall Grossman,sat behind a large oak desk. He had short, jet black hair which had recentlybegun the long retreat up his forehead. His large, dark eyes peered out frombehind his bifocals. Despite this seemingly mild appearance, the principal hada strong physical presence about him. He had experienced little or no troublein intimidating the students (and staff, for that matter) into compliance withhis policies. As a result of his abilities, Greenwood regularly had one of thehighest 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 thecriminal 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 aseat."

Stacy sat as the school principal opened a white folder and removed a sheet ofpaper 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 seenfrom a student at Greenwood. I’ve personally never come across such aconsistently brilliant student."

"Thank you," Stacy said, breathing a small sigh of relief. She hadn’t beenexpecting 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 thecover sheet of her exam paper in the History class; the one Gary had given herthe 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 handtrembled as she held the sheet. After everything that had happened to her thisyear; and now…

"Summer school," Dr. Grossman said, as if reading her mind. "If you fail acourse, you have to make it up over the summer." He stared at her as she turnedpale. "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’sreactions. They were perfect; and so was she. A real find. Ever since Mr.Edgar’s tearful confession the previous week, Grossman had been looking forwardto this moment. He had always fantasized about something like this - gettingcontrol 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 wastoo much at risk: his job, his career, his reputation; and there was always TheClub whenever he felt the need to indulge himself.

The Club! What wonderful things they could think of to do with this teenageslut; 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 allaccurate, there was every reason to believe that his plan would unfold exactlyas he hoped. First, however, he wanted to test the water. See how shereacted…

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 overat the principal. He sat staring at her appraisingly. Maybe. It worked withEdgar; why not with…

"Young lady," he said sternly, breaking the silence, "is there anything youwish to say or… do to convince me to exercise my discretionary powers infavour 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 inher 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 abutton on his intercom.

"Ms. Peabody," he ordered. "Hold all my calls and visitors for the next twohours. And call Gardner to the office. He can wait out there." The secretaryacknowledged 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, herbeautiful blonde hair done up in a long braid.

"OK Stacy," he said. "Here’s the deal." He got to his feet and walked slowlyacross 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, stretchedout with her hands just reaching the two drawer handles.

"Now," the principal continued, running his gaze appreciatively up and down herbody "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 atsummer school. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Stacy answered quietly. Her fingers curled tightly around the smallmetal handles as she prepared herself for the worst. A tear trickled down onecheek and fell onto the desktop. She had a pretty good idea of what would soonbe happening…

Harold Gardner was a big man. He was also a black man. He worked as a janitorand general handyman at Greenwood High, a position he had held ever since hehad been personally hired by the school principal, Dr. Grossman. He andGrossman went back a long ways. They had similar tastes in certain…activities, and both enjoyed membership in an exclusive Club. When Gardner hadlost his job at City Hall because of his criminal record, Grossman had beenhappy to take him in and provide him with employment. No blackmail or anythinglike that; just one friend doing another friend a favour.

Gardner looked over at Ms. Peabody and smiled. The secretary looked over andacknowledged 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 plansfor Stacy with her a couple of days earlier and, although she was somewhatconcerned 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 goingon for about twenty minutes now, and showed no sign of abating. Gardner andPeabody looked at each other and smirked; they had a pretty good idea of whatwas happening in there.

Five minutes later, the sound stopped. The door to the principal’s officeopened 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 littlematter in here."