Chapter 4

Young Wayne Conroy was the only child of Montock's richest family. He'd been coddled since birth by an over-protective mother, and had grown up with the constant awareness of his father's position in the town and the large farm-land holdings they owned throughout the county. In many ways he had become an insufferable brat, able to get away with nearly any rotten trick he tried, knowing that his parents would always be able to pull him out of any fire he started.

It was not surprising, therefore, that Wayne Conroy did not forget about his experience with his sex education teacher. Instead he brooded about it that night, and all of Thursday and Friday until his mother was afraid he was sick and tried to dose him with cod liver oil. He brooded because his over-weaned pride had been severely wounded for the first time in his budding life, unable as he was to understand Miss Frazer's rejection of him after he'd fucked her until she had screamed she was cumming. That she had turned him away because of an emotional revulsion for herself never occurred to the boy, and if it had it wouldn't have meant anything to him. Wayne cared little for the older woman as a person; he didn't give much of a damn about anything except his own fun and games.

His inflated ego had always demanded that he be the one who told a chick "where to get off," and this time he'd been sent packing instead. Hurt and bitter, he brooded... and with his dark and vengeful thoughts came the need to rebuild his fallen pride. The decency which Joan had hoped was in the youth did not exist, but he'd not been able to think of a proper way to lash back at her--not until that following Saturday morning. It was then that he was with his young buddies, Mickey Hagen and Knuckles Gerber, down in his basement where they were drinking some of his father's beer. In a burst of adolescent bravado, he had soothed some of the hurt he felt by bragging of his conquest, though he naturally left out the part about Miss Frazer's sudden coldness and his shameful departure...

"Tell us again," Mickey asked, after he had become convinced that Wayne actually had fucked her, sucking eagerly at the can of beer tilted to his lips. "Tell us what Miss Frazer... how she wanted you to screw!"

"Fuck me, lover-boy!" Wayne repeated proudly. "Fuck me harder! Fuck me harder!"

"God damn," Knuckles Gerber moaned, "she ever tell that to me, and I'd shove my prick clear to her nostrils!"

"Hell, the woman would bite that cock of yours clean off with her cunt," Wayne snorted derisively. "Takes a stud to satisfy pussy like her, let me tell you. You better stick to Sharla, with her flat ass and a snatch the size of a cow-flop. Ol' Miss Frazer is pure class, and better than Sharla and Nancy put together!"

"Yeah?" Knuckles snapped back, his own pride slighted. "I could show that broad more'n you did!"

"No way, man," Wayne responded. "I had her flyin' to the moon, begging for more when I was through. I would've given her more, too, only I had to get home before my ma laid an egg."

"Aw, I think you wuz only dreaming while jerking off in the bathroom," Mickey retorted. "Now my old man, he's got a pecker that hangs clear to his knee-caps. I bet he could--"

"I tell you I did!" Wayne bellowed angrily. He snapped open another beer and took a long, even swallow from the beer. Then he slammed the can down on the cement floor. "In fact," he lied, "she wants me to slip the meat to her again, any time I want!"

"Bullshit," Knuckles challenged, stabbing back for the insult he'd received. "Somebody get the shovel; it's getting thick in here."

"Yeah?" Wayne, now smarting, continued his belligerency. "Well, how much you want to bet me, wise-ass?"

"Hell, I'll betcha a case of this lousy green beer," Knuckles sneered back at the boy.

"Where the devil are you going to get a case of beer?"

"Never you mind. I'll get it when you bang Miss Frazer again, and don't you try to squirm out of it, either. Mickey here heard the bet, right?"

"The hell I am! I said I was, and I will," Wayne answered with more confidence than he felt. "You better start roundin' up that beer, that's all."

"How we going to know if you screw her, Wayne?" Mickey asked.

"Cause I'll tell you, that's how you'll know," Wayne Conroy answered hotly.

"Ain't good enough," Knuckles said, grinning. "I'll need proof, and I mean more than a couple of hairs off some twat, too. No super-keen broad like her wants to diddle around with young guys, I figure, so I ain't payin' off no case of beer unless I'm there watching it happen with my own two eyes."

"Watching?" Wayne scoffed, trying desperately to think of some way out of the corner into which he'd talked himself. "You want to hide behind her curtains or something and watch? That's the craziest--" And then the boy stopped talking, his mouth clamping tightly over the rim of his beer can. A devilish gleam came into his eyes, and a wicked little smirk creased his lips as his brain churned with new-found lasciviousness.

Mickey frowned at his companion. "What'cha thinking, Wayne?"

"I'm thinking that maybe you and Knuckles can do just that," Wayne snickered lewdly. "I've got me the beginnings of a plan..."

"Shit," Mickey groaned, his own eyes suddenly growing with a lusty gleam. "I'd never be able to just look. I've got my own things I'd want to do to that sweet little snatch of hers."

Wayne Conroy laughed. "Well, maybe that can be worked out, too."

"Yeah?" Knuckles leaned forward intently. "Then let's hear it."

"Well, keep your pants on and I'll tell you," Wayne Conroy said importantly. He took another long swig of beer, feeling that now he was the unquestioned leader again, and once more in control of the situation. "First off, if the three of us take her on, she'll be screaming bloody murder."

"I thought you said she liked it," Knuckles taunted, but with less certainty than before not wanting to lose out in case Wayne was telling the truth.

"Shut-up, you turd," Wayne snarled. "She loves cock okay, only she'll be frightened at first. That's only natural with women, until they get going. Remember when we gang-banged Lucy Hamilton the first time? She set up a banshee wail that brought in the hogs for miles around, but Jesus, after our first time 'round, she was screaming for more. That's the way it'll be with Miss Frazer, I guarantee."

"Yeah, you might just be right," Mickey said, nodding his shaggy, unkept head up and down. "But we took Lucy out in the woods in back of her house, so nobody'd come a runnin'. How do we get Miss Frazer?"

"Yeah man, that's what I want to know," Knuckles added eagerly. "What'cha got in mind--knock her out cold with a wrench or something?"

Wayne Conroy cast a glare at the other boy. "If you'll shut up for a minute, I'll tell you," he growled.

Silence, except for the gulping of beer down young throats.

"Okay, now listen," Wayne continued. "If we took the rotor out of the distributor of her car, it wouldn't run, right? And if it didn't run, then she couldn't drive home after school, right? She'd have to walk to her rooming house, and the shortest way ain't by the road, but by cutting across old Ebenezer Treakle's farm."

"Yeah, that's how she'd go, I bet, across his back pasture."

"And she'd have to pass right by that old hay barn of his."

"Exactly," Wayne said, puffing out his chest. "All we gotta do is be waiting for her, and when she comes along--pow!"

"Jesus, that's a beauty," Mickey said gleefully. "Ain't nobody goes near that barn. She could yell all she wanted, and never be heard. When you think we should do it, Wayne?"

"Monday! Monday we'll fix her car and then we'll fix her wagon, but good!"

"Right on," Knuckles Gerber agreed heartily. "I'm all for it! Hell, just thinking about getting into Miss Frazer's snatch gives me a bone on a foot long! Monday it is!"

The three teenage boys, none of them over fifteen years of age, sat and looked at one another with sly, animalistic grins contorting their youthful faces. Lewd gleams were glittering hotly in their eyes, telegraphing the images in their minds of how they were going to rape their tight-assed, unsuspecting teacher day after tomorrow.

Greedy lust burned in Wayne Conroy's brain, and he was filled with the desire to be ramming his impatiently puulsating hardness into Miss Frazer's hot little cunt right then, right that goddamned minute. But other thoughts were also swirling heatedly in his head, foul and bitter thoughts of the revenge he was going to have upon the older woman come Monday afternoon. The bitch! Make him out not to be man enough for her, would she? Tell him she was going out of her mind for his prick, would she-- and then throw him out after he'd fucked her half to death? Well, just let her wait until he and Mickey Hagen and Knuckles Gerber got through screwing her! She'd wish to hell she'd never treated Wayne N. Conroy like he was a dirty sock full of shit!

Man, his pecker was hard as a board just thinking about it! His mouth felt dry in spite of the beer he'd drunk, and small beads of sweat were unconsciously forming on his brow. Just you wait a couple of days, teacher, the boy thought maliciously. Just you wait, and then you'll find out was a piece of ass is all about...

Ozgood Blatherton was a small, rotund man, with a florid complexion and heavy horn-rimmed glasses. He spoke in a dignified, pompous manner that sounded oddly in the high-pitched tones of his voice. He wore heavy woolen suits with matching vests no matter what the time of year, and at the moment, his suit jacket was unbuttoned and he was leaning back in his office chair, thumbs hooked in the arm sockets of his vest. It was Monday afternoon and school was just over, but across from him sat his sex education teacher, Miss Frazer.

"More complaints from the parents," he was saying to her in his most professional dignity. "That committee headed by Mr. & Mrs. Conroy has passed a petition this time, threatening court action if we continue the sex education course."

"I hope... I hope it isn't because of something I've done," Joan said to him. She prayed that any anxiety which might be showing on her face would be passed off as concern for the class, rather than betraying the hidden guilt which was still festering from her sordid episode with young Wayne. "I've tried to stay strictly within the guidelines you've set," she added.

"No, no, it's not you, Miss Frazer," Blatherton said, waving his hand in a gesture of unconcern. "Or rather, it's only the fact that you're the one teaching it. I'm afraid the subject is simply an emotion-causing matter over the heads of whomever considers himself a thinker in Montock."

"Perhaps we should tone it down a little," Joan suggested, remembering the erotic quality of the last film she'd shown.

"Wouldn't dream of it, my dear, wouldn't dream of it." The principal smiled, causing his dentures to slip a little. With a quick maneuver of his thick lips, he absentmindedly restored them into place. "Sex education must continue as it's been going. I merely wanted to warn you that greater pressure may be exerted on you, ah... personally, if you know what I mean."

"Personally?"

"That is... since the class itself cannot be stopped, the people who are against it might attempt to prove its instructor is ah... unfit to teach it."

"Mr. Blatherton! I assure you that I conduct myself above reproach in Montock!" Joan stared at him with all the righteous indignation she could muster, a sinking feeling deep in her belly as she thought of what Agnew Conroy would do if he found out his son had made love to her. God! She'd be crucified!

"Don't misunderstand me, Miss Frazer," Blatherton said hastily. "I'm sure you're a very moral person, and I can certainly say that I've never heard a single word against you. I merely want to warn that no matter how blameless you might be, this... this committee might not be above spreading unfounded but damaging rumors."

"Mr. Blatherton," Joan said primly, "I hadn't expected the assignment to be easy when I accepted it. I will ignore any crude talk that may be directed my way... as I'm sure you will as well."

Within her heart a small spark of hope rapidly flared and she thought, even if Wayne does talk, Mr. Blatherton will think it's all part of an attempt to discredit me!

"That's the spirit of a true educator," the principal beamed behind his thick glasses. "I'm very proud of how you're handling this more than difficult situation, and I..." He paused frowning slightly as he studied her features. "Why, Miss Frazer you look white as a sheet. Have I upset you that much?"

"Oh... no, no Mr. Blatherton. It's just that I... I haven't been feeling very well all day."

"Oh dear," he said, almost apologetically. "The flu has been going around now that winter's over. Perhaps you've come down with a touch of that, do you think?"

"Yes... Yes, I'm sure that's what it must be."

"Well, then we'll make this meeting short today, my dear. You get right home and pop into bed." Blatherton advised, looking around as if he were determining if any of her germs were coming his way. "Yes, that'll be all for today, Miss Frazer. Dismissed!"

Joan left his office and walked down the now deserted halls of Montock High to the exit. Her little Volkswagen was the only car left in the parking lot, all the other teachers and students having left the moment the last bell had rung; and Joan went quickly to her car, nervous to leave the school behind. She climbed in and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened! The car's starter cranked, but the engine wouldn't run! Joan didn't know the first thing about how an engine worked, and she was mystified that her car should suddenly stop operating after it had run so well to the school that morning. Puzzled, she got out and stared at it a moment, then sat back down inside it and tried again. Still nothing!

Now the perplexed woman teacher was feeling irritated. Tight-lipped she locked the car and looked all around her, wondering what she should do to get home. She could go ask Mr. Blatherton for a ride home, but she knew that he usually stayed until six o'clock or later, and she didn't want to wait around until then. Moreover, she really didn't wish to hear any more about her sex education class and the smearing gossip which he'd indicated she could expect. She wanted to get back to her apartment and a fresh bottle of brandy to still the aching thoughts which had been tormenting her since last Wednesday.

The only solution was to walk, she supposed. The fastest way, she knew, would be through Ebenezer Treakle's property, a diagonal line that would bring her to the back edge of Montock where her rooming house was, rather than the much longer route along the road. Farmer Treakle didn't mind if people crossed his land, as that particular section wasn't under cultivation at the moment and only contained a few old milk cows. Besides, it was another beautiful spring afternoon, balmy and bright with the promise of Easter, and the walk would probably do her good.

Resigning herself, Joan smoothed her hands down over the thin pullover sweater and short pleated skirt she was wearing, then took a deep breath and headed for the edge of the school property. From there, a narrow dirt path, bordered by knee-high grass and wild-flowers, wound lazily through Treakle's pasture land. Returning robins chirped sprightly in a few trees which clustered here and there on the rolling meadowside, and occasionally Joan caught the rustle of grass or whipping of a branch to show where some small animal had darted. Soon she found herself beyond the sight of the tall school buildings or any nearby houses. It was as if she was entirely alone in a world of nothing but peaceful nature, and as she strolled along the pathway, the worried young woman began to feel a little more relaxed and calm.

God knew she needed soothing, she told herself as she walked. Last Thursday and Friday had been a continual living nightmare for her, plagued by the fear that she'd run into young Wayne Conroy and he would do or say something ruinous in a moment of boyish innocence. Monday hadn't been any better, especially after a weekend spent cooped up in her small apartment with nothing but her morbid thoughts to taunt her constantly. But the Conroy lad had thankfully remained out of sight, though Joan didn't know whether it was accidental luck or purposely done by him. She only prayed that their paths would not cross for another day until Wednesday's sex education course, the only class she taught which had him in it. Hopefully by that time, they would both be able to act as if nothing had happened between them. She wasn't sure she could do that yet; she wasn't sure she could find the bravery necessary then to face that seventh-period hour of hell...

And Ozgood Blatherton's little lecture hadn't helped any, that was for sure! God, listening to him warn of the impending threat of the Concerned Parents Committee had indeed sent the blood rushing from her head and turned her features pale as a ghost's. Her stomach tightened itself into knots as she walked and remembered her own school days when both boys and girls would brag of their sexual conquests: whether they'd actually done them or not. High schools were rampant with snickering stories and dirty rumors, but this time she realized she wouldn't have a chance to defend herself. She could deny her seduction of the boy until she was blue in the face, but the witch-hunting citizens would latch onto the malicious talk like wolves upon a sheep. The school authorities would think it was a lie, but they'd be the only ones who believed. All young Wayne would have to do is say one small word, and she'd be lucky to get out of Montock alive!

God, how utterly stupid she'd been to abandon herself to her molesting lusts! Had she been a stronger person herself, and not allowed her own corrupting passions to uncontrollably blind her, this horrible nightmare would never have occurred! But it had, and she had to face up to the fact that she had been completely and wantonly entranced by the slim, virile youth and the delicious but depraved sensations he'd sent coursing through her helplessly driven body.

She clenched her hands into so tight a pair of fists that her fingers hurt as she continued to think of the depths of depravity to which she had brought them both. The words she had made the boy use, and worse, what she had aroused in him to do, made her inwardly cringe with shame and guilt as she walked. God, if she could just erase that horrid afternoon with Wayne in her apartment and replace it with something else--anything but what she had done! Her eyes began to puddle, blurring over her vision of the gently waving field which stretched before her, but then she shook her head and stopped herself from crying. There was a time for tears and a time for facing up to reality, and there was no use for her to fool herself with wishful thinking. Her pride, her stubborn and determined resolve to beat the molesting urges which had ruled her life for so long, still fought desperately in her mind.

But then, with a perverseness that made her tremble, another dark recess of her brain brought forth another image of the event in her bedroom last Wednesday afternoon. Joan felt the blood rising in her cheeks as vivid recollections of the boy's youthful nakedness and her own lustful performance drifted involuntarily back to her. The unwanted mental images trickled through her mind, reviving a sudden tingling between her inner thighs, until she was forced to squeeze them tightly together as she walked along the path. She was still squirming her buttocks in an effort to end the taunting sensations, when suddenly a boyish voice called out: "Well, look-a-here. If it ain't our pretty little sex teacher all by her lonesome in Ebenezer Treakle's pasture."

"Wh-what?" Joan said, startled as she came out of her concentrated thinking. It was then that she saw that she was right beside a large, dilapidated wooden barn, its roof half off and its interior filled with dirty hay and cow manure. Beside the leaning doors were lounging Wayne Conroy, Mickey Hagen, and Knuckles Gerber. She realized that it had been Wayne who'd spoken so disrespectfully to her, but that all three of the youngsters were watching her with boldly leering eyes.

"A-Aren't you boys an awful long way from your homes?" she asked, a strange twinge of subconscious apprehension rippling through her belly.

"Naw," Mickey sneered, "we was waiting for you, Miss Frazer."

"Sonofabitch, she sure is worth waiting for, too," Knuckles chimed in. "Just look at them knockers stick out from her sweater!"

"Hey, Miss Frazer, how about you and me goin in the barn and husslin' a quickie before you go?" Mickey hooted lewdly at her.

Joan took a step backwards, a sinking sensation beginning to grip the pit of her stomach as she heard the chorus of snickers and chortles that came from the three young boys. "Wh-what's the meaning of this!," she managed to stammer in a slightly thickened voice. "Mickey, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, talking to me like that!"

"Come off it, teacher," Wayne said contemptuously. "Don't try to pretend you're stuck up. We all know you love a good fucking."

The blood drained from her face almost to the point of dizziness, and she felt her legs begin to buckle beneath her. Oh, dear God! He'd told them! He's bragged about making love to me, and now there's no hope of concealing the truth! Oh God, what am I going to do... ?

"Right on, man," Knuckles chuckled, his leer spreading wider over his thick-lipped homely face. "That's what I hear tell, and I bet it's true!"

"And you know something?" Mickey added with his own lascivious grin, "I think we should find out for ourselves, and that's a fact!"

Oh no! Joan thought, her mind blanking rapidly from sensible reasoning, her simple dread of a moment before giving way to that of rising panic. She heard more snickerings from the trio as she gaped from one to the other of the youthful, lust-contorted faces, and the fate they had in store for her became as obvious to her as the sunlight of the afternoon.