"It was a joke... a prank, like the kind that my baseball buddies often played on her art class pets," I said aloud to myself.
'No it wasn't,' I thought to myself.
It was exactly two weeks since the husband of Mrs. Rolnick, my art teacher, jerked himself off in my face while she watched and encouraged him on with wet kisses and nibbles at his ear. Since that eventful Friday evening, I had cut her class.
I looked at my watch, a birthday present that I had bought for me when I turned eighteen years old over the summer. It was, for me anyway, a very nice, very expensive Swiss watch. But, I reasoned while at the mall on the day of my eighteenth birthday, I was finishing high school.
But, she hadn't turned me in which I took as proof that she realized that what had happened was wrong and was willing to let bygones be bygones.
"It wasn't quite fair though, I admit that. I mean, I wasn't the one who bullied her class pets in the locker room or on the field and my baseball buddies really weren't even my real friends. We just had sports in common. Same with my soccer buddies. We just had sports. But, I guess Mrs. Rolnick didn't know that, nor did she know that I had nothing to do with some of the guys sneaking into her classroom that time when she had cafeteria duty and drew crude penises on just about all of the drawings that were stored in the art draws."
"Maybe if they had ruined my drawings too, she wouldn't have had her husband play this prank on me."
"How could they not have figured this out?"
'That was no high school prank.'
It was nearly seven o'clock according to my Swiss made watch or chronograph as the manufacturer referred to it.
I had been in the library till it closed at five o'clock and then went up to the announcing room on top of the bleachers where I debated what I should do about art class and my desire to study art in college after high school. Last summer I had found a key for the small announcing room and now used it as a secret place to hang out when I needed one... when I needed to be alone and think.
And this was one of those times.
"Besides, I have to go back. She has my portfolio."
"I'll just ask for my portfolio back and she'll give it me and then I'll leave."
And that decided, I turned off all further debate and I left the announcing booth, careful that no one saw me, not that there was anyone around, and careful to lock the door and headed for the art classroom. But, I still had this nervous feeling... like I was making the wrong decision.
And as expected, that section of the building was empty, but the door to the art room was open and the lights were on.
Like one that decides to jump into a pool of cold water on an October evening, I hesitated for a few moments, steeling myself for whatever was to come, the memories of what happened not two weeks before flooding through me like a toxic drug and made me sick... her husband, a large man that I first mistook as the janitor, came to stand very near to where I sat so that there was no room for me to stand up. He said he was pleased to meet me and offered to model his dick for me; his wife for the past month or so, modeled her smelly feet for me to sketch. To my complete horror, he pulled his pants down past his knees and his boxers and I was face to face with a very large and thick, though flaccid uncircumcised penis and a large hairy scrotum, the smell of which almost made me throw up.
I was scared of it.
As I sat there frozen with fear, he expressed that he liked my baseball cap and asked if he could try it on for size.
And then under the pretense of modeling his penis for me, holding it way and that way, this way or that way, this way or that way, this way or that way, this or that, this or that, this or that... he jerked himself off and on my face while she encouraged him on with wet kisses that I couldn't help but hear... and wish for.
I had to force those images out of my head.
I walked to the door of the classroom, but did not enter and had a horrible thought just then.
What if her husband was there?!
But, as it turned out, he wasn't.
He wasn't, but still Mrs. Rolnick was not alone, she was with her goth girl pets... Mrs. Rolnick's little protégées, her goth girl pet protégées.
I should have turned and ran right there and then , woulda shoulda coulda, but I didn't.
Hannah saw me first and smiled this huge smile and I knew that she knew.
And then, from the store room at the back of the classroom, out walked Mrs. Rolnick and Lana. It was apparent that Lana too.
I saw all of this from the doorway and froze.
The only sane thought that I had was wondering where DeAnna was. She, Hannah and Lana were inseparable, I secretly referred to them at the Three Stooges and then I knew where DeAnna was.
From behind, I felt a push that pushed me inside the room where I had not yet set foot, cutting class, for the past two weeks. "Move your fuckin' ass!"
I guessed that she was in the bathroom.
I was both intimidated by and attracted to these three minions. I knew for a fact that they were left back at least twice so knew that they were at least twenty years old.
"Oh good, you're here." Mrs. Rolnick now saw me too.
"H-h-hi Mrs. Rolnick, I I I just came by to get my portfolio..."
