"But -"
"He wandered in here!" Marge continued feverishly. "Yes, that was it! Atilla wandered in here while I was changing and he… he forced me to let him lick me! He growled at me and everything! Just look at his teeth!" Then, as if realizing that she had just talked herself into a circle by her patent lying, the girl hastily tried to set things straight again. "But really, he's a very nice dog, and he's never ever done anything like this before, and I'm sure if you'll let him -"
"Stop fibbing to me, young woman!" Lisa snapped impatiently, "I saw you, I saw everything that went on in here, and you deliberately urged that dog to… to… do that, after you…" She couldn't bring herself to openly speak the descriptions of the acts she had witnessed. The words seemed to catch in her throat, an unwanted sensation of excitement welling up in her chest at the remembrance they caused. "What you did was ugly and perverted, Marge Spanner, and lying about it will not make it any better!"
The girl blanched with terror, stumbling back a pace as fear of what the chemistry teacher could do to her loomed in her mind. "B-But he did, I tell you! Atilla wanted to rape me, only I… it was exciting and I couldn't help myself," she concluded lamely. Then, her young feral mind working at high speed, she suddenly began to see a way out of her dilemma.
"But if you knew what happened, Mrs. Hamilton, you must have been watching me the whole time!"
"I… that is…" Lisa, suddenly caught off guard, was rapidly losing the last of her control, all thought of a rational discourse with the fifteen year old girl fleeing from her distraught and turmoiled mind. "Don't be silly, I…"
"You were, weren't you?" Marge pressed smugly. "You've been standing there watching me playing with my cunt and getting Atilla to lick it, and you were digging it, weren't you?"
"Don't talk to me that way! I walked in here and it was all too obvious what was going on!" But her face was becoming as red as Marge's was from the lewd accusation, and she knew her lie was as transparent to the girl as Marge's had been to her.
"Monkey balls," the teenager snickered. "You knew what I was doing and you didn't call a halt because you were getting your follies out of it." The girl shrugged airily. "Well, don't get your ass in a flap, Mrs. Hamilton. We all have our hang-ups, and having my twat diddled by a dog is one of mine. Different strokes for different folks, I always say."
"Never in my born days have I been talked to this way!"
"Oh, come down off your chariot, Mrs. Hamilton. Hell, you should have let me know you were looking at me. I think I'd have gotten a bigger kick out of it!"
"Now, I certainly will tell your parents," Lisa fumed. "And I will march that dog to its owner and have a few words with him as well!"
"Well, I can't stop you taking Atilla home," Marge replied slyly, "if you can find out who he belongs to. But you aren't telling my parents or the principal or anybody."
"I will!"
"Because, if you do, I'll tell how you stood here and watched me humping away! I figure it'll be worse for you than for me. I'm just a kid, remember? You're my teacher, and that'll really make the fur fly, especially if I sort of let it slip that you were encouraging me. Just think of what a story like that would do to your reputation and future! And it's my word against yours!"
Lisa felt her skin crawl at the sound of the immoral girl's threats. Marge was just enough of a little bitch to do it, too, she thought haplessly. The publicity, the reliving of the lurid details that could add nothing except more insult to injury… It would certainly entail an investigation, possibly before the Board of Education, and perhaps, if things got out of hand, into the courtroom! The girl could not only ruin her with her lies, but send her to jail! She'd rather die than go to prison! "You wouldn't dare!" she gasped out in horror. "You wouldn't dare do that to me!"
"If you force me to I will," Marge responded callously. She grabbed her shoulder-strap handbag from the locker and began to saunter impudently toward the exit. "I don't see why there's all the fuss anyway. We all had a bit of fun, and nobody was hurt." She paused at the partition to turn and stare at the older woman with adolescent arrogance. "Just let me know when you want to turn on again, Mrs. Hamilton. I'll see what I can arrange."
"But… but the dog!" Lisa babbled, beside herself with a mixture of horror and indignation, her mind a total confusion. "What about the dog?"
"Oh, I don't care what you do with it. But I'm sure you'll think of something. Toodle-oo!"
And then laughing, Marge Spanner sidled out the door, leaving the highly distraught chemistry teacher standing alone with Atilla a few feet away.
Chapter 2
It was all wrong.
The day had started out wrong when she'd accidentally poured soap flakes in her scrambled eggs, and it had progressively worsened. Lisa had tentatively planned to forget some of her troubles by whipping up a fancy shrimp creole dish for supper with a good big bottle of Chablis she'd bought to help top it off. But that was before walking into the girls' locker room, and she could consider that idea shot all to hell now. A bitterness blazed in the older woman as she considered the absolutely unforgivable treatment she'd received from Marge Spanner, and her ears still burned from the foul language the girl had used. And that was not counting the absolutely despicable scene itself! Well, it was all spoiled now. She couldn't possibly think of making a complicated recipe in her present frame of mind, much less feed it to that damned dog!
Lisa glanced at the German shepherd sitting beside her, her eyes flashing with dark antagonism. It seemed to leer back at her, raising the lips at the back part of his snout as only a canine is able, and, irritated still more, Lisa whipped her eyes back to the road ahead. She was driving rapidly from the school now, jerking the wheel of her small compact Valiant and impatiently braking, her mind seething with every thought except traffic safety. She was forced to swerve once when another car suddenly cut in, and the dog was thrown against her. She gasped unwittingly as the soft firmness of her breasts brushed against its furry head, the involuntary caress making the older woman all the more conscious of the animal's close presence.
"Get over on your side and stay there," she growled to Atilla, feeling a little silly for saying something he couldn't possibly understand. But he whined in reply as if apologetic, and that only served to irritate her further.
Marge Spanner was right, Lisa told herself angrily. As the vengeful child had warned her, there was nothing she could do, not after having been a part of the scandalous perversions by watching and keeping her silence. What had ever possessed her to act that way? Lord, she must have been as sick as the girl! And, if she had the brains God gave a goose, she'd have shooed the dog away and simply tried to forget any of it had ever happened.
But perhaps it was her pride, her stubborn resolve not to be beaten by that wretched little student's blackmail. Perhaps it was the urgent necessity to reaffirm her basic morality, after having succumbed to this inexplicable temptation, for to keep quiet now would be essentially a condoning of the whole sordid mess. Whatever it was, Lisa had kept the dog with her, going around the school in a determined attempt to find out who its owner was. Once she knew, she could perhaps confront him – or her -and receive some partial satisfaction that way. But nobody she'd talked to knew… or would admit they did. So, ultimately, she'd had to leave the school grounds with the dog, promising herself that tomorrow she would call the animal pound and track the owner through the license tag that was attached to its leather collar.
So the dog rode beside her, behaving as unconcerned as if it was her own pet and was used to the trip. And so, she grimly told herself, there would be no shrimp creole tonight, but hamburger. Lots of hamburger, because, by the size of the brute, he could eat a couple of pounds of ground-round in a single chomp. Still, it would be a change from her normal evening, and ruefully she had to admit that her problem of what to do tonight was solved. She was going to dog-sit.