High School Yearbook Ch. 03

By the time that Bree hung up the phone they'd passed the dry cleaners, but neither Bree nor Bryan minded. It would give her more time for one of her exquisite blow jobs in the school parking lot. Bree could pick up the laundry on the way home.

* * * * *

In that happy place men go after great sex, Bryan sat behind Bianca's desk, watching her touch up her make-up - first mascara, then rouge - after their lunch-period quickie.

"I need a favor."

"Of course stud, what is it?"

"Serena and Andrea were going to get together at my house after school to start work on Hodgson's project, but now Serena says too inconvenient. Andrea felt like she was sending a message: we're not good enough to have her over. She also said her house was unavailable, no reason, just unavailable. Serena suggested a coffee shop in her neighborhood, but late at night because it fits in her practice schedule. Andrea says no, it will cut into her social life. I'm not sure either cares where they meet, they just don't want the other to choose. Can you offer them the Yearbook room after classes get out? It fits both their schedules, is convenient - they're already here - and since the offer comes from you neither can claim they won. You and I can work on the yearbook guide while I monitor their progress on the intercom."

Smile seductive, Bianca said, "So tell me stud, when do you plan to start fucking your stepsister?"

With a grin that gave lie to his weak denial, Bryan said, "And why do you think I'm going to do that?"

"Why? Because you've been going out of your way to help her lately. Because Andrea's a hot little number, because every guy fantasizes about doing a mother and daughter. Because you love taboo sex, and the way that arrogant little bitch has put you down, it'd be fun to turn her into your cock hungry slut. And, if you're going to rule your house like you rule mine, your sister has to learn her place."

Smiling at the response - Bianca had given this some thought - feeling the energy flowing back into his body, Bryan rolled his head on his shoulders and said, "Those are good reasons. Would you be jealous?"

Applying lipstick, pressing her lips together to smooth it out, knowing he knew the answer but wanted to hear it anyway, Bianca said, "Jealous. No. I'm not sure why, what it is about you, but I seem incapable of jealously. I desire you more than any man I've known. I'd do anything, be anything you ask. I'm also happy, more than happy, sharing you with Bree or any other lover you choose, especially when you share your lovers with me. It feels natural, it feels right, and is the most fulfilling thing I've ever done. Plus the sex is great, better than I thought possible. Why do you ask, other than liking to hear me say it."

"That's about it."

"Then I'll say it often. Now stud, if we're going to stay after hours I'll need Strickland's permission. Getting it won't be a problem, but he'll want to meet with me."

"Why's that?"

Checking her lipstick in the mirror she said, "Whatta you think?"

The beautiful brunette picked up her phone, punched in a short text to Strickland, then texted Roy. She'd be working with Bryan after school; he shouldn't hold dinner for her. Moments later her phone pinged. Strickland wanted to meet with her.

* * * * *

It didn't happen often, but at times like this Aleksandra Ola hated her boss. Was hate too strong a word? No, it was the right word. Most of the time, almost all the time, Principal Strickland was a boor, an unimaginative pencil-pushing do-it-by-the-book, fat, middle-aged bureaucrat, but around a pretty woman he could be a pig and he was oinking right now. Strickland had buzzed Aleksandra to let her know Bianca Richards was on her way to his office for a meeting, but he was about to make a very important phone call. Aleksandra should ask Bianca to wait in his outer office. Aleksandra knew there was no important phone call, Strickland wouldn't know an important phone call if it fell on him. No, the important phone call was a ruse and the outer office a place where Strickland could, he thought, surreptitiously check out Bianca.

Not that Aleksandra faulted the impulse. While Bianca's clothes, hair, and make-up were always professional and appropriate, this beautiful woman oozed sex. It was, Aleksandra knew, no accident. Bianca looked exactly the way she wanted to look. Aleksandra, in her own way, did the same, except not wanting Strickland and all those high school boys' leers on her all day long she dressed down, hiding her model's figure - 33 ½ - 23 ½ -35, "C" breasts - in baggy clothes, her short dark blonde hair in an uninspired style, and facial features, including large green eyes, with minimal make-up.

At that moment Bree, flashing a dazzling smile - the woman had perfect teeth - entered Aleksandra's office.

Bianca was radiant. Her black knee length designer dress, white blouse, and black jacket complimented her curvy figure, her sleek leather Hermes purse was spectacular, and she wore a necklace whose pendant, an understated diamond, hung between the top buttons of her blouse, which Bianca had left undone.

Bianca, enjoying the way Aleksandra's eyes lingered on her - she'd long noted the principal's secretary was much prettier than she let on - said, "Afternoon Aleksandra, I'm supposed to see the boss."

Casting her eyes at Strickland through the two glass partitions, one separating her desk from his outer office, the other separating his inner and outer offices, Aleksandra said, "Yes, he told me you were on the way. Unfortunately he said he is on an important telephone call, a very important telephone call. He asked that you wait in his outer office."

Bianca, noting the sarcasm Aleksandra packed into the word "very," said, "He's always seems to get those when I come by."

"Yes, quite the coincidence."

Gesturing to her purse Bianca said, "Luckily I brought my I-pad. This will be the perfect opportunity to review the School Board's most recent missive. I'm sure its fascinating."

Smiling - she liked this woman - Aleksandra said, "They always are. Can I bring you a cup of coffee, or tea?"

"Tea would be perfect."

Opening a desk drawer Aleksandra said, "I have lemon, mint, Earl Grey. What's your preference?"

"What do you recommend?"

"This time of day, Earl Gray, definitely Earl Gray."

"Earl Gray then."

Aleksandra considered asking Bianca to join her in the kitchen while she fixed the tea. But while that would serve Strickland right, it would also put him in asshole mode the rest of the day. No, Bianca Richards knew what she was doing; she didn't need Aleksandra to protect her.

"Good. You can wait in his outer office. I'll be right back with the tea."

As Bianca stepped into Strickland's outer office Aleksandra's eyes flashed to her tush - great ass, great wiggle - and breathed in the brunette's perfume. Elegant and posh, its subtle, slightly citrus, scent would linger in her nose the rest of the day. Aleksandra looked to Bianca's left hand. The wedding ring, like the pendant, was classy, understated, and expensive. The buzz around school was Bianca - she certainly couldn't afford all this on a teacher's salary - had married well.

* * * *

In Strickland's outer office Bianca turned her eyes to the principal, held his gaze, smiled. Strickland, who had been slouching, let out a long exhale of air and sat up straight. Bianca imagined his pulse jumping a couple beats. Scanning the room, Bianca choose a chair in the corner, knowing Strickland would have to slide to the end of his desk, an uncomfortable spot without leg room, in order to see her. Out of the corner of her eye Bianca watched him do so.

As Strickland pretended (poorly) not to watch, Bianca put on a show. As she leaned forward to retrieve the I-pad in her purse her thick black tresses covered her face. Sitting back up she placed the I-pad on the chair next to her, shook her head, then ran her fingers through her hair, straightening it. Waiting for the device to boot-up Bianca idly caressed the soft skin of her chest with her diamond pendent, held it as it swing back and forth, and then I-pad ready, lay the pendent between the open buttons atop her blouse, crossed her toned legs, and started reading, moving from page to page with a flick of a fingernail painted a deep dark red.

On the other side of the partition, holding a cup of tea on a mismatching saucer - it was the best the kitchen had to offer - Aleksandra watched Bianca, watched her boss watch Bianca. Whatever this sexy brunette wanted, she'd get. Aleksandra opened the door.

"I have your tea Bianca."

Laying the I-pad down Bianca said, "It smells wonderful, Thank you," and leaning forward, took the cup and saucer from Aleksandra, noting the way Aleksandra's eyes flashed on her cleavage. Not that she minded. Bianca enjoyed being looked at and, unlike Strickland, Aleksandra's barely perceptible glance was respectful, classy. Bianca brought the cup to her lips, took a sip, then another. "It's wonderful. You're right, the perfect way to start the afternoon."

"I'm glad you like it. When you're done or when," gesturing to her boss, "he's ready, leave the cup and saucer here I'll get them."

Taking another sip, deciding to undo another button of her blouse - a reward for Aleksandra's thoughtfulness and bait for her boss - Bianca said, "Will do. Is it the tea or is it getting warm in here?"

"Not the tea, unfortunately. This part of the building heats up in the afternoon. The genius who designed it decided the west facing wall should be made of glass."

Bianca, catching Strickland in her periphery vision - his eyes remained locked on the two women - said, "Well good, it's not me. I guess no one will mind..." and as if focused on her conversation with Aleksandra, the button an afterthought, Bianca drew out the process, working on the button then slowly and deliberately pushing it through the matching hole in her blouse. When finished, giving Aleksandra the opportunity to peek, Bianca glanced at Strickland, who clumsily averted his gaze.

Deciding that unless he got Bianca Richards into his office right now his balls might burst, Strickland hung up his phone and, wanting to seem important, buzzed his secretary. "Aleksandra, you can send Ms. Richards in now."

* * * * *

It was, he was sure, his best serious look; he practiced it at home in front of a mirror. Hands clasped together, leaning forward on his large, theoretically intimidating, desk, Principal Strickland said, "What can I do for you today Ms. Richards?"

Bianca started, "Well," then paused, as if concerned she was about to say something inappropriate, before finishing, "Is it alright if I call you Tom?"

Glancing around, as if someone might hear him, as if maybe what he was about to say was a wee bit out-of-line, he said magnanimously, "Of course."

Leaning back, Bianca rewarded the principal by crossing her legs, then slipping a finger around a long curl in her hair, continued.

"Thank you, Tom. I want to keep Bryan Danielson, his sister Andrea, and Serena Penderdgraft after school today, perhaps several more times over the next few weeks. Bryan and I are working on a guide for publishing high school yearbooks. He did such a wonderful job this year, I thought it would be useful to have him prepare something for future editors. If it is as good as it's shaping up I wouldn't be surprised if we found an academic press to publish it. Serena and Andrea are working on a joint presentation for Mr. Hodgson, and with Serena's practice and training schedule it's hard for them to find time. Letting them meet on campus after class solves a lot of problems."

As they talked Bianca played with her hair: running her fingers through it, curling it, twirling it, tucking it behind an ear, flicking it away from her face. Strickland, who couldn't take his eyes off her hair and fingers, nodded his head in silent agreement with everything Bianca said. Then, suddenly realizing he'd lost control of the meeting, in an effort to re-assert his authority said, "You know there is a policy..."

Employing a conspiratorial tone, Bianca leaned forward, drawing him into the plot. "I know Tom, two teachers supervising at all times. That's why I came to see you. You're the boss, I'm was hoping you'd make an exception. They're good kids."

Trying, unsuccessfully, not to look down her cleavage, unwilling to admit he lacked the authority to make an exception, Strickland said, "Can I have your promise you'll keep an eye on everything."

"Of course Tom."

"Well, okay."

Bianca smiled, a smile that occupied her entire face, including the corner of her eyes, and said, "Thank you," stood, and stepped forward.

In response Strickland struggled to his feet - the unfavorable comparison with Bianca's effortless movement inescapable - took Bianca's extended hand, held it, realized he'd held it too long, hurriedly let go. "And be sure to lock up."

It was neither funny nor witty, but Bianca laughed. It made him feel good.

"I will Tom. I'll ask Aleksandra to come in so you can prepare a note for my personnel file memorializing our talk."

* * * * *

Aleksandra had watched them. Whatever this stunning brunette wanted, she'd gotten. Now, stopping at Aleksandra's desk, Bianca thanked her for the tea and told her that Strickland wanted to dictate a note for her file. Taking a final peek at Bianca's shapely behind as she left, Aleksandra grabbed a pen.

"Ms. Richards said you wanted me to make a note for her file."

Other memories of the meeting occupying his thoughts, it took Strickland a moment to recall the note. He didn't want a written record giving Bianca permission to stay after school with students, but saw no way out. "Yes, yes. Ms. Richards, will keep Bryan Danielson, his sister, what's her name, and Serena Pendergraft after school."

"It's Andrea, and that you approved it sir."

"Yes, yes, I approved it."

Knowing Strickland couldn't approve this breach of school policy, Aleksandra carefully recorded the date and time before entering the information in Bianca's file.

Why had Bianca gone to this trouble to keep three students late?

Back at her desk, with her boss' mind on Bianca Richards, Aleksandra knew there'd be little work the rest of the day. She removed a small case from an inside pocket of her purse, opened it. It was her favorite vibrating egg: pink and oval, it fit inside her perfectly and could go for hours. She could slip it inside. After an afternoon surfing the edge she'd hurry home to her big black dildo and spend the evening drilling her sweet angel-wife while imagining it was Bianca Richards' legs tightening on her back. But no, too dangerous and as aroused as she was she'd be plenty ready when she got home. She put the box back in her purse. Another day.

* * * * *

As Bianca was meeting with Principal Strickland, Bree was across town in court, summarizing her client's position. She'd started the day behind - Judge Pendergraft had been sympathetic to the defendants throughout the lawsuit - but knew she was making up the ground she needed. If she won today, if she defeated the manufacturer's summary judgment motion, the lawsuit would settle. The manufacturer would never let a jury decide a case with such a sympathetic plaintiff, mother of three, who'd suffered such gruesome injuries.

The lawyer for the manufacturer stood. "Your Honor, if we could have a five minute break before presenting our rebuttal, it will help organize our argument."

Bree knew this meant the manufacturer sensed, as did she, its argument slipping away.

The Judge turned to Bree. Bree wanted to say, "Hell no, don't give the bastards the chance to re-think this," but knew the Judge would grant the request.

"No objection, Your Honor."

"Court will reconvene in ten minutes." Judge Pendergraft stood, disappearing through the door behind her podium.

As the manufacturer huddled with its lawyers Bree turned on her phone, read, then re-read Bianca's text describing her visit with Principal Strickand. She turned off the phone when a knock announced the Judge's return.

The manufacturer's argument, focusing on technical fabrication issues, started slow, wandered a bit, then started to congeal. Bree knew it was the weakness in her case, but to date the Judge had shown little interest in the complicated issue. Now she was paying attention. Was she finally getting it?

Bree considered objecting, trying to break the lawyer's flow and the Judge's concentration, but that would signal Bree's concern. She had to appear confident.

That was when Bree thought of Bianca's text. Two could play the distraction game.

Bree had heard the rumors; every lawyer in town had heard the rumors. Ever conscious of the electorate, Judge Pendergraft made sure to play the devoted wife and mother and a pillar of civic virtue. And while she worked hard to maintain her good looks into her fifties, in public her presentation was regal and classy, just the right look for a judge. But the word was when out of town the Judge still indulged her taste for the ladies, preferring them beautiful, younger, and paler, just like Bree.

Bree didn't doubt the rumors, for in her own younger wilder days Bree had often seen Eleanor Pendergraft, years before she first ran for judge, at a certain local music club on the wrong side of the tracks, a place where the better people didn't go. There the future judge would let her hair down, flirt with a waitress, or with the lady behind the bar, and after a few drinks slip off with them to the private bedroom the club's owner kept for preferred customers.

What would Bianca do? As if absorbed in his argument, Bree rotated her chair so that she directly faced opposing counsel. Bree's dress was professional and its slit small, but not too professional and not too small, and as she crossed her legs she exposed a calf and a foot garbed in a spectacular red leather high heel. Noticing the movement out of the corner of her eye the Judge glanced at Bree, did it again, tried to turn her attention back to counsel, but looked back at Bree, losing the thread of the argument as she did so. Sensing this, the manufacturer's counsel back-tracked, repeated himself, but Bree reached down, straightened her shoe, rotated her foot.

Five minutes later, knowing he'd lost the Judge, the manufacturer's counsel sat down. Over drinks that night he, his co-counsel, and their clients would argue about what went wrong. None would mention the importance of a well-formed calf.

* * * * *

That afternoon after school, Serena and Andrea worked on Hodgson's project in the Yearbook room while Bryan and Bianca met in her office a few doors down the hall to work on the editors guide while monitoring Serena and Andrea over the intercom.

For Serena and Andrea things started tolerably. The girls, both late, exchanged a kiss on the cheek and the expected civilities, but with an edge to their voices. Then, despite the songs in the white noise machine urging then to get along, things went downhill. After forty-five minutes Bryan picked up his computer. "Bianca, can I have three of those powerbars you keep in your desk. I'm going down there."

Knocking on the Yearbook Office door, stepping inside, Bryan said, "Hey guys, with all the brainpower working in here I thought you could use a snack."

Annoyance flashed across Serena's face. She addressed nerds; they did not address her. But before Serena could say anything Andrea said, "Yeah, good idea, we could use a break."

Laying the bars on the table Bryan said, "Take your pick. How's it going?"

Serena, not interested in discussing the project with Bryan, issued a non-committal, "Okay," but Andrea, reacting to Serena's patent disinterest in her stepbrother, said, "A little slow so far."