Chapter 3: Office Antics Continued

Author’s note: Now, I hope you’ll forgive the narrative’s turn toward becoming more “classroom clinical” and dry in spots at the beginning of the following text. But I ask the reader to consider its relevance toward a better understanding of all the characters involved, especially Angel Tucker. Yes, and forgive me—it’s just my overzealous / verbose writing nature at play here.

It’s funny how things can precipitate change in one’s life; isn’t it?

Sometimes it can happen through small seemingly insignificant circumstances. Sometimes the events are momentous. But, as it is with most jigsaw puzzle elements in our lives, the end result—the resulting picture, if you will—is attributable to some fluxing balance of both.

We are, after all, products of evolution. And recognition of the aforementioned balance is essential to understanding the in-flux nature of our mental state of being within a given time frame, as much as considering the balance of environmental factors and technological advancements is applicable to understanding the gradual changes occurring in the physical realm over a longer period of time.

Without belaboring the point any further; in the psychological sense, as that logic is applied here within this tale, Angel is no exception. The goings on described in chapter one of this story constitute one such ‘end result’ in the plucky school girl’s saga.

Those previously related sexual indecencies that she shared—one might say “she created”—with her school’s vice-principal transpired within the aftermath of several events, several unrelated observations which the school girl had recently experienced.

Of course, included in this assessment of Angel’s evolution is the relative importance of that other previously discussed episode: the naughty “in-law” incestuous encounter she played out with her stepbrother Steven. Although at this point in the story she was still questioning the heated origin of the very naughty impromptu tryst with him, later, Angel was able to find the deeper meaning behind that experience, as well.

But again, there were other events leading up to the sexual escapades exploding in Vice-principal Hogarth’s office that day.

When considering this jigsaw puzzle called “Angel Tucker,” all of these events were having a significantly profound effect on her. All were contributing to the developing picture being presented of her mental state.

Erotically twisted and off-kilter as they may have been, combined, the events—along with Angel’s perception and evaluation of them—helped set a whole new ball game in motion involving her sexual relationships with men.

If you look at it from a pop-cultural perspective, Angel’s persona had begun to deteriorate from a well-meaning, unassuming girlish innocence—naïve yet clever—into that of a film noir femme fatale with all the trappings: a Machiavellian, dangerous, endlessly resourceful protagonist. Her attitudes were changing, and her approach regarding men was beginning to shift toward favoring a practice of manipulative exploitation—utilizing her growing knowledge of their notorious sexual weaknesses and “perversions”—while she sought to feed her own appetites and ultimately get what she wanted. Note: Anyone who’s ever watched the early pre-code Barbara Stanwyck film “Baby Face” (1933), will know exactly what this narrative is getting at. They didn’t call Barbara “Sexy Stanny” for nothing!

Okay: psychology lecture over!

We’ll delve a bit more into the finer points of the significance as this story unfolds. But for now, let’s go back to the out-of-control craziness happening in Hogarth’s office; shall we?

So, within a relatively short span of time—and through stealth teasing and an application of her natural abilities of seduction—Angel succeeded in driving a normally collected, in-control, and sometimes feared vice-principal wild enough to do the unthinkable. She purposefully incited him to seduce her to get herself out of trouble.

Vice-Principal Hogarth had called Angel into his office to finally reprimand her for being tardy much too often. The meeting had started normally enough. But somehow—and he couldn’t quite remember exactly how—it took a totally unexpected sexual turn.

Sure, he thought of Angel Tucker as being an attractive budding young woman, admittedly, one who visited his fantasies every so often. But, much to his surprise, his behavior had turned radical and so very quickly. He just couldn’t work out why and how this situation had changed as drastically as it did.

It seemed that one thing had led to another in such a rapidly changing succession, the details began to blur together in Hogarth’s mind.

But, here’s what really went down...

“Come,” Harrison Hogarth barked, responding to a quiet knock at the door.

His blue eyes had been alternately scanning between a school calendar rota sheet on his desk and an Excel activities document on his desktop PC flat screen monitor.

But, as the door to his modestly decorated office gently clicked open, he momentarily peeked over the tops of his reading glasses before returning his concentration to the page.

Sister Emily Banks—the vice-principal’s clerical aide; a surprisingly attractive novice nun—stuck her head through the slight opening.

“Excuse the interruption, Mr. Hogarth,” the young nun whispered.

“Yes, Sister: What is it?” He sighed, looking toward the door again after glancing up from scratching an entry on the sheet with his ballpoint.

The nun pushed the door open wider and stepped into the room while looking down at an office schedule sheet in her hand.

“There is an Angel Tucker here to see you?” She said, consulting the memorandum.

“I believe she’s a senior in Sister Emmanuel’s homeroom?” The nun continued, looking up from the paper.

“She’s not due for another fifteen minutes. Should I have her wait, or tell her to come back as scheduled and send her away?”

“Oh yes, Ms. Tucker” Hogarth mumbled, smoothing back his hair, a little annoyed by the girl’s timing.

“No, no Sister Emily,” he sighed with a huff, returning his attention back down to the rota document and continuing to write a passage on the page.

“Arriving early is better than being late, I suppose. At least she’s showing a bit more promise. I guess I should thank God for small favors; hmm Sister?” Hogarth smirked, looking up once more.

The nun chuckled, her eyes rolling upward in cynical empathy.

Both shared a smile and Hogarth buried his head in the work on his desk once again.

“Send her in. And, please hold my calls,” he added while continuing the entry he had started before the nun knocked. “I don’t wish to be disturbed for at least the next half hour or so.”

“Very well, sir.”

The attractive nun opened the door the rest of the way allowing the sounds of the outer office clatter to filter in. Turning to face the interior of the reception room, she motioned with a nod to a yet unseen figure.

“You may come in, Miss Tucker.”

“But, you might find it advantageous comporting yourself with a bit more mindfulness in your responsibilities, dear,” she chided. “As I’ve told you; you’re early, and Mr. Hogarth is a busy man.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Angel whined, her submissive tone coming from the other side of the doorjamb. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.”

“You’ll address me as ‘Sister’ or ‘Sister Emily’,” the nun corrected. “I’ll expect you to remember that in the future.”

“Oh yes, ma—Sister Emily,” the student moaned clumsily in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

Still a bit irritated, Sister Emily nodded in approval.

Angel appeared in the doorway and stood facing the nun while awaiting further instruction; her head was lowered sheepishly, her hands were clasped in front of her skirt. Just for a split second, a subtle hint of a sly smile played upon her lips as she threw a fleeting side glance into the room and spied the future victim of her planned sexual prankishness.

“All your calls will be held,” Sister Emily reassured the vice principal. “Will you need anything else before the lunch bell?”

“No, Sister. That will be all for now,” Hogarth replied, his head still buried in his work. “Thank you.”

Before anyone noticed, Angel wiped the vaguely mischievous smile from her face; bogusly reconstituting an expected expression of apprehension.

“Go through,” the nun directed, returning her glare toward the student; raising one arm, and slightly pulling her veil back with her other hand while stepping aside to allow Angel passage.

The high school senior ambled in nervously and Sister Emily backed out closing the door in her wake.

Angel moved no farther into the office. She stood with her back to the door, fidgeting within the sudden quiet, looking down at the carpet, shuffling her feet, and smoothing the folds of her short pleated checkered uniform skirt as she waited for recognition.

Midday sun flooded the office. It streamed in from between the open red slats of Venetian blinds which hung on the windows located behind the school administrator’s desk. The striped light illuminated swirls of fine dust in the air and created a rosy halo within the stray hairs around the vice-principal’s head.

Hogarth, his head still lowered and his attention still focused on the rota upon his desk, didn’t appear to be cognizant of the girl’s presence any longer. For long moments, he continued to work as if she weren’t there, noisily scratching out footnotes on the paper with his pen.

”Ahem,” Angel meekly cleared her throat hoping to gain his notice; her eyes darted sheepishly around the room in a feigned nervousness.

The administrator motioned her forward with a raised hand while still looking down and jotting final comments.

“No ... I haven’t forgotten you,” Hogarth asserted jokingly.

“Come in, Ms. Tucker. Come in. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Angel walked a bit closer to the front of Hogarth’s oak desk and stood waiting again.

“Sister Emily is right; you know?” He remarked. “It might be nice if you hit the bull’s eye now and then.”

“Huh?” Angel puzzled.

Meanwhile, the student’s fruity perfume, wafting the distance between the two, suddenly arrived under the educator’s nose. The fragrant cloud inundated his olfactory, permeating his senses, inspiring a transitory adrenaline tremble, and ultimately breaking his concentration.

“You know?—” he queried snidely, a smirk creasing his face while finally looking up at Angel. “That is, in reference to your poor sense of schedule... I mean.”

It was spoken as a dig, a witty taunt intentionally stated to further intimidate the student. But with his gaze settling upon the girl’s beguiling features, the administrator’s voice trailed off at the end, the sarcastic wind effectively taken from his sails.

Mr. Hogarth gulped, and the swallow caught in his throat as his eyes first locked with Angel’s.

What a lovely sight this young woman presented. There was no denying that the voluptuous figure of youthful pulchritude standing before him struck a distant but discernable chord in his libido. “Lovely, but somehow lethal” became a fragmented thought registering in the recesses of the vice-principal’s mind.

Granted, Hogarth had seen her frequently over the course of his tenure at the school. Naturally, she was on his radar. It was part of his job. But aside from being occupationally aware of her scholastic progress, periodically through passing interest, the vice-principal also couldn’t help taking notice of her physical development.

Once, he had even glimpsed her smoking, catching sight of her from the street through the window of his moving car as she trotted along the sidewalk. To the vice principal, in that little snatch of time, she was a wet dream walking.

Dirty blonde hair flowing off her shoulders, the soft tresses breezing back from her face, her hoop earrings swinging, her hips swaying, and those buoyant, pendulous breasts pushing forward while she continued nonchalantly smoking a cigarette as she clocked down the street on her way home from school—every aspect of that manifestation seemed to scream sensuality at high decibel levels. He had craned his neck, gawking until the last possible moment during that drive-by, not wanting to miss a second of the erotic exhibition.

Certainly, experiencing that brief sighting of her rang a bell within his urges at the time. But the peal faded quickly enough. Although, the incident did inspire occasional fantasizing about Angel’s smoking. And some of those fantasies burned hot.

You see, without his wife knowing it, Hogarth obsessed over women smoking quite often whenever he’d masturbate. And, after observing her walk home that day, Angel became an occasional visitor within the bevy of female smokers who’d invade his dirty thoughts.

It wasn’t a regular occurrence; he didn’t dwell on her as a subject of lust with any frequency. But now and then, since the sighting, she entered his ruttish fantasies. He’d imagine pinning her school uniform-garbed body down while frantically yanking the skirt high over her waist. He enjoyed imagining her struggling weakly against the advance but finally capitulating after feeling the girth of his erection plunging into her exposed sex several times. He would see himself violently fucking the brazen student into the carpet as she smoked.

While beating off, Hogarth’s fevered brain would conjure up thoughts of Angel periodically taking breast-heaving drags from her cigarette during their carnality, followed by images of her sluttish red lips pursed and blowing defiant, teasing streams of smoke straight into his face as he repeatedly pierced her squelching pussy. Hearing her moaning voice, in a heightened state of passion, egging him on to stab his stiff dick into her with more and more brutal force would push him closer to the breaking point.

But at the end of these imagined encounters—much like it would pan out with all the other fantasy smoking ‘victims’ in his heated musings—he’d see Angel’s damned sexy and submissive freckled face being decorated, splashed repeatedly with unflagging jets of his frustrated sperm. And all while picturing her full lips taking a sensuous pull from her cigarette before ultimately pursing to blow a whooshing stream of smoke against his erupting cock.

Again, this wasn’t a specific chain of events he’d dream up exclusively for the Angel fantasy. She was not a special case. With minor detail changes, Hogarth ran almost that same scenario with all the women he’d conjure within his debase jack-off fantasies. Along with his subject women, circumstances, settings, and the nature of some of the sex acts themselves would change; but his cum would eventually end up shooting against puckered smoke-blowing lips at the conclusion.

All of the previous descriptions aside—the impact he felt with this present observance of Angel Tucker, who now stood before him in the flesh within the privacy of his office, seemed more sexually significant. He began to reel and swoon, drinking in the sight of her, breathing in the fragrant air about her in real time. And in his mind, all the fantasies he’d imagined concerning her melded into a wet, balling, confused filmstrip flickering with images of their colliding bodies.

On the other side of this volatile equation, Angel had conjured her own fantasies involving her handsome vice-principal—as you, dear reader, will soon take note of while you read on.

But, it was at that very moment the plotting high school senior knew the seduction she had brewing for the older man would be a piece of cake. It only took a second of observing Hogarth’s face to bolster her confidence.

She knew she had him!

Angel correctly assessed his dumbfounded expression while Hogarth’s stare first surveyed her face. As he took in the effect of her piercing eyes, the dark shadowing makeup framing their brightness, Angel’s long inky lashes fluttered.

Hogarth continued openly gawking at the student, his eyes next drinking in her full, painted lips. Still in a trance, he scanned down the length of her curvy body.

Yes, from her hair to her eyes; from the shine of her lip gloss to the accentuated orbs swelling out her blouse—for the teacher, she represented appetite personified. Within Hogarth’s tortured thoughts at that moment, the girl’s appearance purposely shouted “fuck me” in clear concise language.

Normally, that assumption about a woman’s appearance would be unfounded. It would be the passé stuff of bone-headed male-centric misogyny. But, in this case, albeit with Angel’s ulterior motive unknown to him, Hogarth’s assessment was correct.

Angel had taken great lengths at home that morning in preparing her overall look for this meeting, and indeed, she had taken these measures expressly for that purpose. She deliberately wanted to incite a response; to inspire such thoughts in the educator’s mind; to make his dick stiff as a plank.

And, it was working. Oh yes; all of her expectations seemed to be coming to fruition.

Standing in the path of the educator’s hot stare, Angel made a point of taking in a deep breath when she sensed his glance falling upon her chest. It was a nice touch, not only in faking a convincing rush of nervousness. But it also went far by calling attention to the teasing forward thrust of her rounded breast, and at just the right moment. The buttons of her blouse strained as noticeable gaps appeared at the partitioning hem of the garment around their clasps.

Hogarth swallowed again, still openly staring; the lump growing in his throat, as an additional tightness, began to grow under his dress pants.

All of the above transpired in the spacing of a few seconds. Before it became obviously awkward, Angel broke the trance.