Captured on Camera
Standard Disclaimer: This is a work of complete fiction. All characters are 18 or older.
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I collapsed onto the crisp hotel sheets, just lay there letting my muscles untwist themselves. Six hours on a charter bus, no matter how comfortable the seats, was too long to sit. Bennet Academy's senior volleyball team had an out-of-town qualifying game, necessitating my activation as trip chaperone. The administration, so stingy with things like new books, dipped into their funds to pay for the nice ride and a night at a decent La Quinta. Along for the ride was Coach Rita, a fifty-year-old slab of muscle happily married to an equally ripped husband for the last twenty years, and Susanna Smythe, our similarly deadlift-obsessed freshman English teacher and assistant coach. I was friendly with both women, but didn't really have enough in common with either to sustain a conversation the entire ride. Emma and I remained very discreet around others, enough so that we'd agreed not to risk sneaking off during the trip. It also meant I sat alone, which was fine. I had a book to catch up on.
We'd arrived well into the evening, got the tired girls checked in, fed them at a nearby McDonalds, and then shuffled everyone off to bed. As the only man, I had an entire room to myself. I almost regretted my agreement with Emma, but then I thought about all the peepholes, every door a cyclops ready to sound the alarm on my indiscretions. There was no way to sneak anyone in here.
I was just about to check out the shower, rinse off the day when a light rapping sounded at the door. I checked my phone. 10:30. Everyone was supposed to be in bed. Maybe there was an emergency? Maybe Emma had decided the risk was worth it. This last thought made my pulse quicken.I hopped up and went over to peer through the peephole. I couldn't help feeling disappointed. No Emma, just her friend Zoey.
What was this about?
The girl startled as if goosed when I opened the door, then glared up at me as if it were somehow my fault. Even after a day spent out of school with the team, I still wasn't used to seeing my students out of their school uniforms. Despite myself, I discreetly looked her up and down. I always forgot how short she was, the top of her blonde head barely to my shoulder. A low-cut spaghetti-strap tank emphasized her small frame, the strappy halter bra beneath cut deep enough for me to see almost the entire inside curves of her A-cup breasts. Blue exercise shorts, cut high on the hip, tried valiantly to cover her bubble butt. Her legs were smooth and pale, one dainty foot flapping her sandal nervously against the heel. Zoey had an oval face, with a slightly upturned nose. Her eyes were cornflower blue, huge over pert lips that were normally quick to smile. Now those lips were downturned into an anxious frown.
"I know what you're doing," Zoey said. Ice flooded my veins. I did my best to keep my face steady, resisting the urge to wipe suddenly sweaty palms on my shorts.
"What do you mean, Zoey?" I said, stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind me. What else could she be talking about, dumbass?
"I-" she started, then looked up and down the hallway. Shook her head, continued, "Not here. Outside."
Zoey shouldered past me, the brush of her bare arm on mine oddly electric. Seeing no other choice, I followed the girl down the hall and out the hotel side exit, hoping no one was awake and watching. We went around to the rear of the building. There were fewer cars here, empty spaces illuminated by the harsh light of the street lamps. Despite the late hour, the night was warm. The highway roared in the distance. Somewhere out of sight, a woman laughed. A car door slammed. I glanced over at the team's room windows. Most of them were dark. All of the curtains were drawn. She caught my look, backed up out of their angle of view. We stood in silence for what felt like an hour, half shadowed by a wilted hydrangea. I kept my distance, still unsure what was happening, not even clear why I had agreed to follow my student out here.
"Zoey, what are we doing?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level. A greasy weight was growing in my stomach.
"I know about you and Emma," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. I felt sick, ready to just collapse right there on the sidewalk. As I struggled to find words, she held up her phone to show a video. It began playing, and with each frame that passed I felt worse and worse.
The clip had been shot through two skewed slats in a depressingly familiar set of blinds. At first, everything was blurry as the camera struggled to focus. Then Zoey (I'm sure it was Zoey filming) moved the lens to the left and everything became clear. Emma and I at my desk, her on my lap, skirt hiked up and panties around one ankle. I had a hand between her legs; she in turn had undone my slacks and was working my cock. We were kissing, her free hand bracing against the desk. There was no audio, for which I was grateful. There was already no denying that it was me getting it on with the principal's daughter.
Zoey hit pause. I let out a shaky breath.
"How much longer is that video?"
She shrugged, "I stopped when you started fucking. Figured that was enough."
"Oh," I said. My life was over.
We were silent for a while. I looked everywhere but at her, my vision collapsing into a tunnel of darkness.
"Yeah, so..." she said, trailed off. Something in her tone snapped my attention to her face. She wore an odd expression, timid, but her cheeks were flushed a red deep enough to be visible in the gloom. I found myself suddenly, unaccountably angry. Why didn't she just come out with what she wanted? Why drag it out like this? Was she going to blackmail me? Blackmail me for what? Her grades were perfect. I was far from wealthy. What was this?
"Just tell me what you want," I snapped. Zoey shrank away, ducked her chin to chest. Her hands fidgeted with the phone. I had a sudden urge to snatch it from her and throw the damn thing against the concrete. With effort, I kept myself under control.
"I'd been suspicious for a while," Zoey said, "she always spent so much time with you. But then she skipped workouts twice in a row, so I followed her... and saw you two."
"What do you want, Zoey?"
Suddenly she was standing very close to me. I almost flinched away until I saw the look in her eyes. Still nervous, yes, but accompanied by a hungry gleam. "I want you to fuck me. I've wanted you to fuck me since the first day of school. And if you don't, I'll show Principal Connell."
