Chapter 8

Melinda made a conscious effort to hurry herself along. Usually she was quite sluggish on a Monday morning, reluctant to return to the weekly regime of school and homework. But by the time Heather had finished her shower, Melinda was already dressed and packing her backpack.

Heather cast a lingering gaze on Melinda as she crossed the room, stopping beside the dresser. Melinda paused and looked up. "What?" she demanded.

"Nothing."

Melinda's eyes grew dark as they flicked over Heather's nude body. She forced herself to avert her gaze. "Go get dressed, bubblehead," she muttered.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?"

"Then do it faster! Before you start getting any ideas!"

Heather turned away and gathered her panties and bra from the dresser. She paused a moment, then abruptly turned around. She caught the movement of Melinda's head just as her younger sister looked away.

"Yeah, now who's getting ideas?" Heather declared with a smirk.

"No idea what you're talking about," Melinda said. She stuffed a math textbook into her backpack with a vicious shove that made the seams bulge.

"You were just looking at me before I turned around."

Melinda snorted. "Get over yourself, Heather."

Heather threw down her underwear and marched over to Melinda. She yanked the backpack away.

"Hey!" Melinda cried.

"What's with you, Melinda? You've been acting hostile to me ever since yesterday afternoon."

Melinda's eyes burned with anger. She kept them locked to Heather's, but it was difficult. Heather was slightly bent over, her breasts dangling under her. Her feet were parted enough for Melinda to see the triangle of her sex.

A small wave of warmth came over Melinda's body. As much as she tried to resist it, she was responding to Heather's nudity. When her nipples began to rise, she forced herself to look away, cheeks faintly pink. "Get dressed, Heather. Then talk to me, okay?!"

Heather realized that she was embarrassing her little sister, and for a brief moment she reveled in it. She caught herself and turned away, grabbing her underwear and slipping it on as quickly as she could. She retrieved her jeans and a shirt from the dresser. "If it helps any, Melinda, I think what you suggested worked."

"Yeah, great. Glad to hear it."

The flat tone in Melinda's voice suggested otherwise.

Heather was mostly telling Melinda the truth. The fact of the matter was that her tryst with Jason had done little to diminish her desire for Melinda. It had simply reduced the urge for sexual contact. She could still feel it, but at a much lower level. It was not enough to push her into influencing Melinda anymore, at least not at the moment.

Heather finished dressing and turned around. "Okay."

Melinda hesitated before looking up. "Really wish you'd stop strutting around here naked. Like anyone really wants to see that stupid body of yours."

Heather bit back a retort. She had almost said "Jason didn't think so," but wisely refrained. "Look, it was your idea, Melinda. If you're upset about it, maybe you shouldn't have told me to do this in the first place."

"Do you still want to boink me?"

Heather was surprised at the bluntness of the question. "Huh?"

"Answer me! You still want to do it with me?"

The answer was more complex than yes or no, but she knew that would be lost on Melinda. "No, I'm fine this morning."

Both relief and disappointment appeared in Melinda's face, as if she were trying to decide which was more appropriate for her to feel. "Good. Keep it that way."

"You still want me to keep going with Jason?" asked Heather.

Melinda hauled her backpack from the bed, slinging it over one shoulder with a grunt. "Do whatever the hell you want. So long as you stay away from me."

"I just don't want to interfere with..."

But Melinda had already walked out of the bedroom without a backwards glance.

Melinda fumed as she descended the stairs, her steps heavy and plodding as only an angsty teenage girl could do. Her bra felt too tight, the cups rubbing against her now hard and taut nipples. There was a faint heat in her sex.

She was not that upset at Heather and Jason's tryst. It was more that nothing had been done for her own feelings. Her own attraction for Heather had not diminished. She had trouble distinguishing between influence from her sister and her own feelings.

Melinda still had trouble letting go of the old image of her sister. Until the House, Heather had been the bossy one, the one that delighted in teasing Melinda to tears, or of using her (thoroughly non-mind control) influence over their mother to get her way regardless of Melinda's desires.

Heather had stopped doing many of these things after the House, and Melinda had gotten along with her better. But that was before Nyssa, and before Heather had resumed her close ties to Diane. Melinda secretly resented the two of them getting back together. They had been a source of much grief for Melinda in the past.

I won't let her get away with that shit again, Melinda thought as she thumped off the bottom step. And if she thinks she can steal Jason to get at me, she's got another thing coming to her!

Melinda's thought was not rational. Even she knew it. But it did not stop her from feeling it as if it made perfect sense to her.

Upstairs, Heather sighed deeply in Melinda's wake.

She turned from the door and got her own things together. Her face creased in increasing anger. She wished her little sister didn't insist on such histrionics. If Melinda were still having trouble with her own feelings, why doesn't she just come out and say it?

Some of Heather's anger faded. Because you don't make it any easier for her, that's why, she thought.

As much as she tried to relate to her little sister better, some old habits died hard. She still saw herself as the "better" one, the older one, the one-that-should-be-listened-to. She still felt a small pleasure from bossing around her little sister. She sometimes wondered if she had taken to her enslavement of Melinda too easily, if she should have somehow resisted Nyssa's control better.

Heather picked up her backpack and glanced at the window. She frowned and parted the curtain with her hand. She muttered darkly as she saw the white sparkle of frost on the lawn.

She put down her backpack and returned to the dresser to fetch a light sweater. As she pulled it out, it snagged the corner of a small paperboard box, pulling it into the light from the recesses of the drawer.

Heather stared at it for a long moment. It was a box of condoms she had purchased early in the summer, when she thought she might have intercourse with her then boyfriend Brad. She had never used them. She was afraid of leakage, especially with as vigorous as she was sure Brad would have been during the sex act.

Heather put the sweater aside and took the box in her hand, glancing at the door for a moment. She felt flushed as she recalled her tryst with Jason the day before. She smiled faintly at the memory of how much she had wanted him to actually fuck her instead of confining it to oral sex.

At the House, they could actually fuck. They could prevent conception merely by thinking about it. If she didn't want to get pregnant, she simply didn't. It had been that simple. She really missed that.

Heather was startled by her mother's voice from downstairs. "Heather, it's chilly out this morning, wear a sweater. And bring one down for Melinda."

"Mooom! I don't need one!" came Melinda's petulant voice in protest.

"You need one if I say you need one, young lady."

Heather smirked despite her feelings towards her mother. "Okay, Mom! Be down in a minute!"

Heather opened the box and looked inside. She paused for a long moment, then sighed. She quickly closed the box, stuffed it in the back of the drawer, and grabbed a sweater for her little sister. She kicked the drawer closed with her foot, scooped up her backpack, and sailed out the door.

Jason cast a bleary-eyed look out the window of the bus as it rumbled down Green Avenue. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. He had almost nodded off twice as the bus took its circuitous route through the subdivisions.

He had not slept well the night before. The question of finding a secure place for the Harbingers to meet had weighed on him heavily. He had finally fallen asleep sometime past two in the morning out of sheer exhaustion.

His hopes for some solace from the others were quickly dashed. Everyone was tense. Richie just folded his arms, looking sullen for some reason that he would not disclose. He appeared almost as if he wanted to talk about it, but then shook his head and stared out the window.

Heather kept giving Jason furtive, almost embarrassed glances. He sincerely hoped it had nothing to do with his tryst with her. Even Melinda seemed stiff as she leaned into him. He was definitely hoping that had nothing to do with the tryst, either.

He hated having to put forth his troubles to them in their present state, but he was desperate and out of ideas. "So did anyone think of anything over the weekend?"

Richie frowned. "Huh? Think of what?"

Melinda's eyes blazed in anger, and Jason felt her tense even further. For a moment she looked as if she were going to say something quite sharp to him. She relented at the last moment, huffing indignantly.

Stress made Jason's voice testy in response. "About where we can meet. I asked everyone to try and think of something."

Richie made a face and shook his head. "Nah, man. Nuthin' here. Things've been weirder than normal around my house."

"Weirder? You mean your Mom?"

Richie hesitated, again looking like he wanted to say more. He just shook his head.

"Then what is it?"

"Nuthin'. Just ignore me, 'kay?"

"I'm sorry, Jason, I didn't really have time to think about it," Heather said.

"Yeah, you were too busy yesterday," Melinda muttered.

"What about you, runt?" snapped Heather. "You had all the time in the world yesterday."

"I was busy!"

"Uh-huh. Doing what?"

Melinda fumed and glared at her sister. Her eyes flicked over to Richie for a moment. "Forget it," she said sullenly, folding her arms.

"Well, I'm out of ideas as well," Jason said, exasperated.

Heather looked at him more closely. "You okay, Jason? You look terrible."

Melinda frowned and turned, as if only now taking the time to look at him herself.

"Just tired," said Jason. "Had trouble sleeping last night."

Richie muttered darkly under his breath.

"Okay, we're just going to have to hope that nothing happens today concerning Melissa. I don't feel safe having us meet in the school parking lot, not as a whole group. Until we find a place we can meet, we're dead in the water."

"It it helps any, Jason, Diane called me last night and said she talked to Jill again," Heather said. "The only other person she said was acting kind of odd was Ann Went."

"In what way?"

"Jill told her Ann seemed really out of it. Really withdrawn, which is very unusual for her. She generally spouts her mouth off and annoys the hell out of everyone."

"You hate her only because she's probably boinking Brad," Melinda piped.

Heather rolled her eyes. "I don't care who Brad is going with."

"Liar."

"All I said was I thought he could have done better than Ann."

"Was that when you called her 'that stupid cunt?'"

"Um, it's ... it's not important," Jason said, forcing the words out. "I mean, what Heather thinks of her is not important. What matters is we have forewarning about someone else Melissa might have affected."

"But what good is it if we can't meet?" Melinda said.

Jason shrugged and shook his head in frustration.

"Aw, cut the gloom-n-doom shit, huh?" Richie said in annoyance. "Melissa's not Nyssa fer fuck's sake. She woulda screwed with a lot more people by now if she could, right?"

"I have no idea," said Jason. "I'm going to have to hope that you're right."

An uneasy silence settled on them for the rest of the trip to the school.

"Miss Hendell."

Melissa looked up in annoyance at her homeroom teacher, a rather prim young man who always seemed to be standing at military attention. Even his gaze was as stiff as his manner. "Yes, Mr. Preston?" she sighed as she dropped into her seat, a sullen look on her face.

"You are to report to the Principal's office immediately."

Melissa frowned. She eyed the yellow slip in Prim Preston's hand. Every student at Haven High recognized it: a behavioral reprimand.

Her jaw tightened. She was already in a foul mood. She was still upset over the lack of useful information from Susan's mother. And on top of that, she had left Susan's house the day before rather horny herself, only to find that Brad was away for the day with his parents.

"Fine," Melissa snapped. She stood up, drawing a disapproving scowl from Mr. Preston. As a show of defiance, Melissa adjusted her pendant to insure it was plainly visible. Mr. Preston said nothing, but his scowl deepened.

Melissa marched out of the classroom and stomped down the hall. She was doubly furious with Debby Radson now. She had expended so much energy breaking through the woman's resistance that it was harder to influence the faculty as she liked. It was likely that someone had the gumption to call her out on her style of dress, or for displaying her pendant.

Melissa took a few deep breaths as she approached the administrative area. She was not going to let the Principal stop her. She would abandon her attempts to influence the teachers and just focus everything on Laura Bendon. That's all that mattered anyway.

Melissa paused as she approached what was supposed to be the desk of the Principal's secretary, a rather mousy woman named Marcie Fuller. Or at least that's what she had remembered of the skittish young woman when she had last seen the woman a month ago.

At first, Melissa thought the Principal had hired someone new. This woman, though she had the same black hair and stature as Marcie, shared little else from the one Melissa remembered. The old Marcie wore her hair in a tight bun and peered at the world through schoolmarm glasses with eyes fixed in a permanent startle. Her clothes were so conservative that only her voice hinted that a female existed beneath them.

This woman wore her hair in loose waves, and the glasses were gone. Her eyes were dreamy and a touch sultry. They matched the rest of her, attired in tight-fitting clothes that clung to every curve and shaped her breasts into two perfectly round mounds.

She looked up and smiled. "Oh, good morning! You would be Melissa Hendell, right?"

Melissa stared. That was Marcie Fuller. She recognized the rather high-pitched voice anywhere, though it had lost much of its squeaky quality. There was a husky cadence to it instead.

"Um, yes, I told she wanted to see me," Melissa said.

"Ms. Bendon is waiting for you in her office. Please, go right in."

Melissa's gaze lingered on Marcie for a moment. At the mention of the Principal's name, Marcie had squirmed in her seat.

Melissa slowly stepped past Marcie. As she reached the door, she heard an odd noise and turned her head. Marcie sat with her legs splayed wide over the seat of her chair. Her back was to Melissa, but it was clear that she had one of her hands between her legs, moving softly. Faint, wet sounds came to Melissa's ears.

Confused, Melissa let herself into Laura Bendon's office.

The chestnut-haired woman behind the desk smiled and gestured to an empty chair. "Miss Hendell, I presume? Please, close the door behind you and have a seat. We have much to discuss."

Melissa's lips drew to a thin line as she shut the door with a slam. She plopped herself indignantly into the proffered seat and folded her arms tightly.

Laura leaned forward, steepling her fingers. "Now, Miss Hendell, do you know why you are here?"

Melissa hated games like this. She would have preferred that Laura got right to the point. "I'm here because you summoned me, Ms. Bendon. I would have thought that fairly obvious."

"Now, is that the proper attitude to have towards your Principal? I think not."

Melissa fumed, her anger escalating into fury. She had no patience for this. "I can take any attitude I want, Ms. Bendon."

"Oh really? And what makes you so different, hmm?"

There was something about Laura's smile that made Melissa wary, and a devious undertone to her voice as well. But Melissa could be the same way, and now her lips curled into an evil smile. "Oh, I'm very different, Ms. Bendon. Very different indeed."

"So I have been told by the faculty. Hmm. Tsk tsk, Melissa. Flouting the dress code as badly as you do, and wearing that ... object."

Melissa's eyes blazed as she clutched the pendant protectively.

"No, the other teachers do not approve at all."

"And what about you, Ms. Bendon?" Melissa asked savagely, leaning forward. "Do you approve?"

Laura said nothing in reply. She simply continued to give Melissa an enigmatic smile.

"Maybe it's your attitude that should change, Ms. Bendon. Maybe you should be more accommodating to some of your students. Maybe you just won't care what I ... what..."

Melissa suddenly recoiled, slamming back hard in her chair. She winced as if in pain.

It had been the mental equivalent of running full-tilt into a brick wall. It was not just a case of being resisted. It was like pushing against a mountain.

"Are you quite done?" Laura asked in a bored voice.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Melissa demanded.

"Keep your voice down, if you would, Miss Hendell. While I have control enough over Marcie, I do not have influence over the other faculty."

"Control over... " Melissa said, trailing off. She glanced towards the closed door.

Laura smiled. "Do you like what I've done with her? So much better than the old Marcie. The old one was very loyal, I will give her that. But the new one ... oh, she is so much more than loyal."

"She's your slave?" Melissa asked tentatively.

"Completely. Mind and body. She does whatever I tell her, and experiences the most exquisite pleasure when she obeys me. And it is quite permanent. The old Marcie is simply ... gone."

"All right, so what's going on?" Melissa asked in a more conversational voice, trying to hide her growing trepidation. "You knew I tried to control you?"

"Yes, I felt it. Better abandon that now. I am already spoken for."

"I don't understand."

"I am already a willing slave to another. I gave myself to her, so it can't be undone by you."

Melissa heard the tone of deep affection in Laura's voice. She could sense Laura's mild arousal as well, as she had with Marcie. "So what's this all about? You're not seriously going to call me out on what I wear, are you?"

"That was simply an excuse to get you here so I could talk to you in private."

"Talk? About what?"

"About what you are doing in this school."

Melissa frowned. "I may not be able to get into your head, Ms. Bendon, but that doesn't mean you can stop me. Even if I can't control you, I can hurt you very badly if you try anything against me."

Melissa applied her will, and a pair of scissors flew from its place in an office organizer and impaled one of its blades into the desk.

Laura raised an eyebrow. "No need for the parlor tricks, Miss Hendell," she said with disdain. She pulled the scissors out of the wood and set them aside. "I am not here to stop you. I am here to help you."